《The Accidental Pimp》


 Chapter 1: The Executioner

    Part 1: The Reluctant Executioner


    Chapter 1: The Executioner


    The executioner hesitated.


    No matter how many times he did this, he always hesitated. Beyond the door were two men who would die in just a few hours. He was going to end their lives with a splash of blood and the cheers of an adoring crowd. When it came time to perform, there would be no hesitation, no mercy. For now, the executioner stared at the door.


    He took a long, deep breath. If it wasn¡¯t him, it would be someone else. Someone who didn¡¯t care about anything more than putting on a show. Someone who would revel in the job and torment them in their last moments. Someone who would live up to the name of the Butcher. He exhaled.


    The door opened up to the holding cells. A few oil lamps cast a dim, flickering light in the small room. Four cages lined the back wall. There was a crate with clothes for the prisoners and a shelf with a few battered old books and the keys. Two guards sat at a table, playing cards.


    Upon seeing the executioner enter they set their cards down and stood. ¡°Butcher,¡± they murmured respectfully, with no small amount of unease.


    The executioner gave them a nod. He stepped past them and stopped in front of the cells. The prisoner on his left was older, graying, and haggard from his time in captivity. To his right, the prisoner was tanned, wiry, and in the prime of his life. The old man remained seated, but the wiry man got to his feet and slammed his hand against the bars.


    ¡°Is this supposed to scare us?¡± he demanded. With his long, messy dark hair and grey eyes, he might have been handsome on the outside. The cells had a way of taking that away. Four days of patchy scruff covered his face, and his clothes had been taken away and replaced with rags.


    The question threw him. The executioner was easily the largest man in the room. The black chitin armor he wore gave him some added bulk, but his bare white arms were thick with muscle and covered in scars. His helmet was like his armor, an Orchrisan Legion officers, save for his ornate mask. A grinning skull peered back at the prisoners, as ghastly white as his exposed skin.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°The Emperor likes it when the condemned suffer before the end. It¡¯s not my choice.¡± His voice was surprisingly soft, though it was distorted by the mask and came out as a hiss.


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m scared, you¡¯re a fool,¡± he snarled, baring his teeth. His fingers gripped the bars until they went white. Realization hit him. ¡°Wait. Condemned?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he didn¡¯t know,¡± said the old man from his cot. There was no fear in his voice. There wouldn¡¯t be after this long. ¡°You poor bastard.¡±


    ¡°Good evening Horace,¡± the executioner greeted with a respectful nod.


    ¡°Butcher,¡± Horace returned the nod with a weary smile.


    There was silence again while the executioner chose his words carefully and the wiry prisoner¡¯s eyes darted around. Even after ten years of service, speaking didn¡¯t come easily for the executioner. This was the hardest part of the job by far.


    ¡°You¡¯re not from Orchrisus. What¡¯s your name? Where are you from?¡±


    He didn¡¯t think he would get an answer. Another slam of the bars or more threats, maybe, but not an answer. The executioner was pleasantly surprised when the prisoner said, ¡°Antonio. Antonio Brechen. From Finsk.¡±


    The executioner nodded. ¡°You¡¯re a long way from home, Antonio. I¡¯m afraid the laws are not always kind to foreigners here. You were found guilty of three counts of murder. One of which -- ¡°


    ¡°They were cheating!¡± Antonio seethed. ¡°Those bastards were trying to rob me. I caught them at it, and the barkeep stood and did nothing!¡±


    Horace let out a dark chuckle. ¡°Welcome to Orchrisus.¡±


    The executioner glanced at Horace. The old man shut up. ¡°I believe you. Had you just beat them half to death, we wouldn''t be here. Fights happen. The Watch looks the other way. A man has a duty to stand up for himself. But you didn''t. You killed three men in front of dozens of witnesses.¡±


    ¡°What the hell was I supposed to do?¡± Antonio protested weakly. ¡°Let them cheat me?¡±


    He didn¡¯t blame Antonio. In a city like Orchrisus, there were always thieves. Especially on the outskirts, where traders and travelers stopped for a respite from the endless desert. There was no shortage of bad men in Orchrisus. Antonio¡¯s story was one of at least a dozen each year. No matter how much the executioner felt for him, he had a job to do.


    ¡°I understand. You were in a shit situation, and there was no way out that would''ve been acceptable. Doesn''t change anything. You killed three men, Antonio Brechen of Finsk. I''m afraid that means you were sentenced to be executed, to be carried out tonight by my hand.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Antonio¡¯s eyes widened. He backed away from the bars, as if the distance would somehow protect him. ¡°They throw me in here and just decide to kill me? Where''s the justice in that!?¡±


    The executioner sighed. ¡°There were thirty people who saw you stab three men to death before you were subdued. The Arbiter assigned to your case determined there was no need for a full trial.¡±


    The poor bastard probably hadn¡¯t been told any of this. There was a very real chance that they¡¯d locked him up, decided his sentence, and sent him straight here without any explanation. Guilt stirred in the executioner. He buried it, like he¡¯d done time and again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how executions are done in Finsk,¡± the executioner pressed on, not unkindly. ¡°Here in Orchrisus, you will be brought upstairs to the arena. From there, you have two choices. You can go willingly, and I will make it as quick and painless as I can.¡±


    ¡°Piss on that.¡± Antonio let out a desperate, nearly hysterical laugh.


    ¡°Or you could fight,¡± said Horace, getting to his feet. He looked through the bars at Antonio with something like pity. ¡°If you kill the Butcher here, you win your freedom. They prefer it when you fight. It puts on a show for the people, and they get to bet on how long before you die.¡±


    Antonio looked between the two of them. After a second, the meaning sunk in. ¡°How many people have earned their freedom?¡±


    ¡°Eleven,¡± said the executioner. ¡°You lose nothing by trying.¡± Any other prisoner, he would¡¯ve known their crime, their life, and exactly how to entice them to fight. Their files told him everything he needed to know to get their cooperation, and to provide what mercies he could. He should¡¯ve known Antonio Brechen better. Gods, he hated when the courts rushed men to their deaths.


    ¡°Eleven,¡± Antonio echoed, his expression unreadable. Many prisoners put on a fierce mask when facing him. No one wanted to show weakness or fear in front of him. His dark eyes darted up and down the executioner, as if only just now noticing how large and imposing he really was. Some of his fire faded, and then it was the executioner¡¯s turn to worry.


    Two compliant executions would make for a terrible showing. Amicus would blame the executioner for it and spend the next month breathing down his neck. The executioner¡¯s fists clenched. He took a chance.


    ¡°We have your belongings,¡± said the executioner. ¡°If you would like, you may use your knife. If you were able to take on three men and win¡­¡±


    Antonio¡¯s brow furrowed. Half a minute passed before the prisoner¡¯s jaw set and indecision gave way to determination. ¡°I¡¯ll fight.¡±


    Horace laughed. Weak at first, and then picking up volume until his thin body trembled. ¡°Eleven. Eleven in fifty years, and they just keep...They give you what you want every time. Is that what it''s going to take, Butcher? Will you only kill me when I say I''ll fight you?¡± The laughter tapered off into a strangled sob.


    The executioner couldn¡¯t imagine having to wait that long. Waiting to be put to death, waiting for someone to come in and tell him that his time was up. For weeks Horace watched the executioner kill man after man through the window in his cell. It wasn¡¯t right. The executioner was many things, but cruel was not one of them. He shook his head.


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    ¡°No, Horace. Tonight is the night. You won¡¯t have to wait any longer.¡±


    Horace opened his mouth, but no words came out. The laughter disappeared, replaced by something between fear and relief. A month in the cells, and he¡¯d never looked as old as he did now. He let out a long, shuddering breath.


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± Horace whispered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to wait this long, Horace. Your advocate really fought for you.¡±


    Horace snorted. ¡°Bullshit. He didn''t want a loss on his record. Bastard.¡±


    The executioner smiled behind his mask. He nodded to each of them in turn. ¡°I¡¯ll make the arrangements. You have three hours until it¡¯s time. A priest of the Darkstar will be in shortly, to administer the rites and record your last wishes and confessions.¡±


    He¡¯d already turned to walk out of the room when Antonio called out, ¡°What about you? Will you talk to a priest? Will you confess? I will earn my freedom. No matter what.¡±


    The executioner didn¡¯t turn around. ¡°No. I¡¯m already damned.¡±


    Watching people trip over themselves to get out of his way hurt. People were unafraid, if cold, when the mask was off. He spent most days without the mask and the executioner¡¯s co-workers tolerated his presence. Gladiators and slaves alike would acknowledge him with a nod, then go back to pretending like he wasn¡¯t there. He¡¯d still sit alone in the dining hall, but it would be close enough to catch snippets of conversation. It was almost like belonging.


    With the mask on it meant that he was no longer the solemn, quiet man they¡¯d known for the past fifteen years. There was only the Butcher. Merciless, bloodthirsty, and a grim reminder that when the normal fights ended, people would die.


    The executioner wound his way through the Colosseum¡¯s underbelly. A path cleared for him in the locker room, raucous banter fading to nothing. He felt the weight of their eyes on him as he continued on to the next hallway. The moment he was out of sight, conversation resumed. It was like bringing a bubble of silence with him.


    His office was the only respite from the discomfort. It was a modest, small space without much adorning the walls. There was a desk, a comfortable chair for him and two wicker chairs for guests. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, dimly casting enough light to read by. A sword hung on the wall behind him. It was mostly for decoration, but it never hurt to be prepared. There were no paintings or anything personal in the office, unless one counted a cabinet containing handwritten records of the people he executed.


    There was no need for anything more.


    One of the Colosseum¡¯s slaves was already there, bent over his desk. The majority of it was taken over by a massive silver platter, packed to capacity with fresh food. Kebabs, tender lamb, and even smoked grubs were on display in the center. They were surrounded by fresh fruits and vegetables in a ring around the edge. It was more than the executioner could eat in two days.


    The short, mousy slave jumped to her feet. She kept her eyes firmly locked on the ground. She held the lid to the platter, and her face was reddening more by the second. The executioner nodded and moved past her. He took his seat.


    ¡°Thank you, Giselle. Bring me two bottles of mead, and the special draught. Then send him in. Oh, one more thing,¡± he said before she could scurry away.


    ¡°When we¡¯re done here, I request that you and...Pick a friend of yours. When we¡¯re done, you two will be on clean up. I expect it to take a while, and for there to be few leftovers. Understand?¡±


    Giselle risked looking up to stare him in the face. She flinched, but nodded, making the chain links around her neck jingle. She murmured a thanks and took off out the door, letting the lid clatter to the ground. The executioner sighed, but stood and put it over the food.


    Half an hour later, the door opened once more and Horace was led in by a guard. The guard stopped at the doorway. He shoved the older man in. Giselle darted in, arms full with the bottles. She set them down and got out just as quickly. The door slammed shut, leaving the two men alone.


    ¡°Have a seat, Horace.¡± The executioner rolled up the scroll he¡¯d been reading and put it back in the cabinet.


    Horace narrowed his eyes but did as he was told. ¡°What¡¯s this, then?¡±


    The executioner lifted the lid. The smell of succulent meats and fresh bread nearly bowled the prisoner over. Horace¡¯s eyes bulged at the feast. The executioner set the lid on the ground, and opened the two bottles of mead. ¡°A last mercy. You¡¯ve been through a lot. I can¡¯t give you your life, but I can give you this.¡±


    His statement wasn¡¯t met with the enthusiasm the executioner had come to expect from the pre-death feast. Instead, Horace slumped in his seat. ¡°You...I appreciate this. But I was guilty. I am guilty. I deserve this death. You understand that, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the executioner, ¡°I understand. You¡¯ve been a model prisoner. You made a mistake, and you accept the consequences. That¡¯s worth something.¡± He undid the chinstrap of his helmet, and pulled it off.


    He wasn¡¯t deformed, exactly. That always came as a surprise to the people he invited for a final meal. The executioner¡¯s skin was as white as marble. His cropped hair and sharp eyebrows were a light, off-white blonde. The only hint of color was in his eyes, somewhere between icy blue and lavender. He had severe, hawkish features marred with scars and a crooked nose too large for his face. He set the helmet down on the last empty spot on the desk, facing away from the prisoner.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding when you said you were already damned,¡± Horace said, gaping.


    The executioner¡¯s teeth clenched.


    ¡°You¡¯re moon-¡±


    ¡°Albino,¡± the executioner snapped, soft voice turning harsh. ¡°The gods had nothing to do with this.¡±


    Horace flinched, then nodded slowly. The executioner relaxed. He set a bottle of mead in front of Horace. He lifted his up, waiting.


    The old man grabbed the bottle and raised it up. ¡°To my health?¡± In spite of himself, the executioner chuckled. They clinked bottles and drank.


    Horace wasted no time in grabbing a kebab and tearing into it. A handful of grapes followed. The executioner sat back and waited patiently. He didn¡¯t have to wait long. Time in captivity shrunk one¡¯s stomach, and Horace had been thin before being imprisoned. Once he slowed down, the executioner helped himself to some lamb and a handful of pomegranate seeds.


    ¡°So,¡± Horace started, then paused to finish chewing and swallow, ¡°do you normally share a meal with people you¡¯re about to kill?¡±


    ¡°Some.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Mostly the ones who want it quick and quiet. Getting a potential fighter full and drunk makes for a bad showing.¡± The executioner took a swig of mead.


    Horace¡¯s hand froze halfway to his mouth. ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that logic, but that seems a little...Calculating. You don¡¯t really strike me as the type to be that cold.¡±


    The executioner raised an eyebrow. ¡°What makes you say that? Before now, I was just a faceless killer.¡±


    That earned him a short, harsh bark of laughter. ¡°And now you¡¯re not,¡± Horace gave him a crooked smile. ¡°If you were what you seemed, then you wouldn¡¯t be feeding me and drinking with me. You might be known as the Butcher, but that doesn¡¯t really fit you, does it? Who are you?¡±


    It was hard to not immediately avert his gaze. The executioner lasted ten seconds before his eyes darted to his helmet, itching to put it back on. He took a deep breath. He was in control here.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll answer that, if you answer a question of mine.¡±


    Horace took another long drink of mead. He leaned back in the chair and shrugged. ¡°Ask away, Butcher.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± The question had been eating at him for months. ¡°Why did you do it? You had a comfortable, well respected job. You had a daughter. Why did you throw it all away?¡±


    Horace didn¡¯t answer right away. He popped another grape in his mouth and mulled it over. Finally, he shrugged and said, ¡°Money.¡±


    ¡°On come on,¡± the executioner scoffed. ¡°You worked for the courts. They pay decently well. And if you were coerced, they¡¯d protect you.¡±


    Horace shook his head, laughing bitterly. ¡°Not from debtors. My daughter fell in love. I had a wedding and a dowry to pay for. So I went to a lender. When I couldn¡¯t pay it back fast enough, I got threatened. When that didn¡¯t get them the money any faster, she got threatened. So, someone offered me an out. Enough money to pay off my debts and set my Lucia up, should I get caught.


    ¡°Well, I got caught, and here we are.¡± Horace gestured to the room.


    It made sense. The executioner had done the job long enough to know that almost everyone had their price. People did stupid things out of greed, then it was on him to provide the consequences of their actions. ¡°Who offered you the money?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Horace scoffed. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell the arbiters and I¡¯m not gonna tell you either, no matter how much food or drink you get in me. They kept to their word. Lucia and any children she has will be comfortable. That¡¯s all that matters.¡± Horace raised the bottle in a mock toast.


    ¡°Was it worth it, then?¡± the executioner leaned forward, lips pursed. ¡°Your daughter will have money, but she loses you.¡±


    At that, Horace faltered. The bottle in his hand trembled. He set it down. For the first time since arriving at the Colosseum, he looked close to breaking down. He swallowed hard.


    ¡°That¡¯s the real punishment, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m not afraid of dying, Butcher. I¡¯ve earned this death.¡± He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. ¡°Lucia will start a family of her own, but I won¡¯t get to see it.¡±


    The executioner nodded, but said nothing. What else was there to say? He finished his bottle and set it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and relaxed, enjoying the tiniest bit of swimming in his head. Horace wasn¡¯t content to sit in silence.


    ¡°I gave you your answer, now I want mine. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± The executioner paused. ¡°My name¡¯s Quentin. I¡¯m not...I didn¡¯t try to get this job. I worked in the infirmary, at first. I used to stitch up the gladiators after fights and training.¡± His eyes went distant.


    ¡°One day, someone picked a fight with me. People used to always pick at me. It comes with¡­¡± He gestured at himself.


    ¡°People are bastards,¡± said Horace.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed. ¡°I fought back. I laid him out. A friend of his jumped in, and I laid him out too. Then three more of his friends joined in.¡±


    ¡°Did you lay them out too?¡± Horace grinned.


    ¡°No, they beat the piss out of me.¡± Horace¡¯s surprised, genuine laughter made him smile. The executioner took another grape. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t like...It was more of a draw than them winning. It got me noticed by the owner of the Colosseum.¡±


    ¡°Then he made you the Butcher?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s when I - ¡±


    They were interrupted by a knock at the door. The executioner grabbed his helmet and hastily put it on. ¡°Enter,¡± he called.


    The door opened a crack, and Giselle¡¯s face peeked through. ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± the slave said.


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll be out in a moment. Close the -¡°


    The door closed before he could finish his sentence. He sighed. The executioner stood up, strapping his helmet on properly. He fished keys out of the desk and locked the cabinet. The sword he took off the wall and strapped to his belt.


    ¡°Hold up a minute,¡± Horace protested, ¡°I¡¯m going to die soon. You can¡¯t leave off mid-story like that! I need to know.¡±


    The executioner smiled behind his mask. ¡°You¡¯ll appreciate the company more than my story. Trust me.¡±


    Horace¡¯s brows furrowed in confusion, then realization hit him. He turned toward the door. ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have an hour. On the desk is a bottle. It will dull your senses. When you¡¯re done here, drink it. It will make your death painless. It¡¯s all I can do for you.¡±


    He walked to the door. Before he reached it Horace said, ¡°Thank you. Quentin.¡± The executioner¡¯s chest tightened. He nodded, and opened the door. Outside was a guard and, he presumed, Lucia.


    Seeing him, she blanched. He stepped past her and stood next to the guard. Seeing her father, Lucia let out a cry and ran to him. She threw her arms around him as he stood, nearly bowling him over into the half empty platter of food. Tears streamed down the old man¡¯s face.


    The executioner nodded once more. The guard closed the door and stood in front of it, leaning on his spear. He kept his eyes down, like everyone else in the colosseum. Sometimes, the executioner couldn¡¯t help but take it personally.


    ¡°When they¡¯re done in there and you go to search him, be gentle. I don¡¯t want to see any bruises that weren¡¯t there before he went in. Understood?¡± On the other hand, it took no effort to be taken seriously.


    The guard¡¯s expressioned hardened, but he didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Yes, Butcher.¡±


    He spared one last glance at his office before he turned around to make the uncomfortable trek back through the underside of the colosseum. Soon, he would have to kill Horace. For the time being, the executioner could consider him a friend. At least, he thought, he could be a friend to Horace. The last one he would ever have.

 Chapter 2: The Butcher

    Chapter 2: The Butcher


    ¡°The Turtle swings and...OH! The kid will definitely be feeling that tomorrow!¡±


    Amicus Brontes'' rich bass rumbled in the air like thunder. His voice came from everywhere, broadcast from enchanted bronze mouths positioned around the Colosseum. When the owner and announcer spoke into his scepter, anyone within half a mile could hear him. Five thousand people filled the stands that night, and many stood outside and listened. For some, missing the fights was as unthinkable as missing temple.


    The executioner watched the fight from the gladiator¡¯s box above the arena, alone. The other fighters were crammed into the other box across the arena, watching from there. On any night he wasn¡¯t scheduled to perform an execution, both boxes would be filled and the executioner would have company.


    At this point in his life, the executioner didn¡¯t care much. No matter what, his nights were all about the arena and the thrill of the fight. Either he would be an invisible part of the brotherhood for a couple of hours, or he¡¯d be able to step into the arena himself and for a few shining minutes the world would be his.


    ¡°He regains his balance, but the Turtle isn¡¯t letting up. He swings, and...OH! The new fish isn¡¯t out of fight just yet, folks. Look at him move!¡±


    Below, the newest recruit dodged one swipe from his opponent¡¯s short sword after another. Clad in leather armor, he pivoted and twisted out of the way of his larger, heavier opponent like he was lighter than air. On the third dodged strike, the kid retaliated. The second his heel touched the sand he launched himself forward, thrusting his trident at his foe¡¯s chest.


    The sound of metal on metal could be heard, even from the viewing box. The Turtle¡¯s shield turned the tines away. He used the kid¡¯s own momentum against him and slammed his knee into his stomach. Even with the leather armor, the kid dropped.


    ¡°Ooooh¡­¡± Amicus groaned, and the audience groaned with him. ¡°That makes eight, count ¡®em, EIGHT times the new fish has gone down! Another two and he¡¯ll match the Colosseum record. Can he do it, or is he done?¡±


    It was a time honored tradition, going into the arena and getting the shit kicked out of you by Demetrius. The job of head trainer wasn¡¯t an idle, cushy position. Though Demetrius rarely had any major fights at this point in his career, it was his job to make sure the new fighters could put on a good show, and for them to lose their first match. It kept them humble.


    ¡°New fish! New fish!¡± the audience chanted. He didn¡¯t have an arena name yet. That would come when he earned one, either through deeds and acclaim or Amicus coming up with something to catch the attention of the ever fickle audience.


    The new fish, or Jonas, the executioner recalled, forced himself to stand. Demetrius stepped back, bowing graciously. Back on his feet, Jonas saluted his teacher. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers so loud, the executioner felt it in his bones. Quietly, he joined them, muttering the words with a muted smile.


    ¡°He may look scrawny, but he¡¯s taking everything thrown his way and asking for more! Could the new fish outlast the Turtle?¡±


    Demetrius circled Jonas like a lion closing in for the kill. Jonas hunkered down, weapon out and turning to keep facing his teacher. For now, he seemed content to let the attack come to him instead of going on the offensive. It was either the mark of fear, or patience. The executioner grinned, holding his breath and waiting for one of them to make a move.


    It was Jonas who moved first. Not at or away from his foe, but in place. His sandaled foot went through the top layer of sand, and his entire body shifted with it. Demetrius didn¡¯t hesitate. He stepped forward and swung low to high. It would be enough to ring the kid¡¯s bell without killing him. Probably.


    The sword cut through the air, but hit nothing. It was a feint, he realized, as the kid dropped even lower and struck back. A rookie would have tried to thrust their weapon forward, seizing on the opening. Ten minutes and nearly as many knockdowns and Jonas knew better than to think he was faster than Demetrius¡¯ shield. Instead, he swung the trident like a club. The shaft connected with the back of Demetrius¡¯ legs.


    ¡°What¡¯s this? The Turtle¡¯s on his back!¡±


    The crowd screamed again, and this time the executioner joined them wholeheartedly, yelling so loud that the metal of his helmet thrummed.


    Jonas didn¡¯t stop to soak in the audience¡¯s adulation. Before Demetrius¡¯s backside even hit the sand, he was on his feet, trident raised. He thrust it forward then, right at his opponent¡¯s chest. The executioner froze, heart soaring.


    ¡°This is it! His first match a victory, the first in -- ¡°


    Demetrius thrust his sword up. It wasn¡¯t desperation, or even aggression. The copper sword caught the trident between two of its tines. The points stopped just inches away from the armor. Jonas set his feet in and pushed.


    The trident inched closer. The kid was stronger, the executioner realized. He was stronger and he had leverage. All he needed was a few more seconds, and Demetrius would either yield or get mildly stabbed. Even now, his arm trembled.


    Demetrius shifted. His arm faltered. Jonas shoved one last time. It was too late. Demetrius swung the edge of his shield into the side of Jonas¡¯ head. The trident slipped from his hands and fell to the sand. Jonas followed soon after, dropping like a puppet with its strings cut. Demetrius rolled over and climbed to his feet. Jonas stayed where he was.


    The crowd and even Amicus was silent, waiting with bated breath. Demetrius raised his sword in the air. The Colosseum went wild.


    ¡°Eight times! Eight times the new fish got back up and kept fighting. It wasn¡¯t enough to win against the Colosseum¡¯s oldest fighter, but give it a year and --¡± Amicus lowered his voice to a stage whisper, ¡°the Turtle just might train up one last legend before he retires!¡±


    Demetrius made a rude gesture up at the owner¡¯s box. Amicus¡¯ laughter boomed like thunder. He could never resist a chance to needle the fighters.


    From beneath, four slaves poured out onto the sand carrying a stretcher. Together, they shifted Jonas¡¯ unconscious form onto it and removed him from the arena. The executioner stirred. That meant it was his time to shine.


    He looked up and made eye contact with a young boy, not yet a teen. The viewing box was mostly covered, but it was occasionally possible to get a peek of the fighters. The boy¡¯s jaw dropped with recognition. The executioner smiled, then drew his thumb across his neck slowly and pointed at the kid. His eyes lit up with a boyish mix of excitement and alarm. He pointed and waved for his mother¡¯s attention, but the executioner was gone by the time she looked.


    He met Demetrius down on the ramp leading up to the arena, between a mural showing the Warcaller and Darkstar ready for battle. ¡°Good fight,¡± said the executioner, as Demetrius limped down the ramp. ¡°I almost thought you lost this one. It might do your ego some good to lose against a fish.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Demetrius growled as he fought to catch his breath, ¡°I was thinkin¡¯ you could do to lose one too.¡±


    The executioner laughed. He and Demetrius clasped each other by the forearm. Demetrius was one of three people in the Colosseum who didn¡¯t fear or hide from him, and the only one he could call a friend.


    ¡°He¡¯s looking like he¡¯s got some potential.¡± The executioner nodded in the direction Jonas was carried.


    ¡°Or I¡¯m just gettin¡¯ too old for this shit,¡± Demetrius said, scowling. He had a good face for it. The trainer was five foot six, and looked like he was carved out of an especially craggy boulder. He had the olive complexion and thick, dark body hair common to most Policherans, though his beard was largely silver by now.


    ¡°Maybe Amicus is right. One of these days some cocky shit¡¯s gonna beat me. That¡¯ll be the day I quit.¡±


    The executioner shook his head. ¡°That¡¯ll never happen. You love this place too much. The only way either of us is leaving is on our backs.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Demetrius shrugged. ¡°Not like I¡¯d have anything to retire to. Can you imagine trying to settle down and start a family at my age? The woman would have to be fuckin¡¯ desperate to go for me.¡±


    His words dampened the executioner¡¯s spirit like an upended bucket of freezing water. His throat tightened. No, the executioner couldn¡¯t imagine settling down or starting a family. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. ¡°Yeah¡­But miracles happen, right? You losing to a newbie is about as likely as you finding a woman who could tolerate you.¡±


    Demetrius roared with laughter. ¡°Eat shit, Quentin.¡± He punched the executioner in the arm. ¡°Fight well tonight, brother. Fight well enough for the Warcaller himself to notice you.¡± Demetrius limped his way down the ramp.


    The executioner nodded and watched his friend leave. His stomach continued twisting itself into knots. The last thing he needed was to think about his personal life before he was due to perform, but he could hardly fault Demetrius for bringing it up. The alternative was having no one to talk to at all.


    ¡°And now for the main event¡­¡±


    There was no time for moping about loneliness or the future. The executioner had a job to do. He took a deep breath and walked up the ramp.


    ¡°Once a humble gladiator turned executioner, he died at the hands of the first man to ever win his freedom. His spirit wouldn¡¯t let him rest.¡±


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The little details changed every so often, but the story was the same. There was no room for a freak like him on any of the teams of gladiators, but when executions became entertainment, there was room for a monster. The executioner checked his armor, and then his helmet. Everything was in place.


    ¡°He crawled out of hell itself to be here tonight. Death can¡¯t stop him, and neither can we. He exists only to punish the wicked, only to kill!¡±


    The executioner took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was hard to hear Amicus over the sound of his own heartbeat. Hundreds of performances, and the nerves still came. It was the only time he ever felt afraid, and he loved it. This was it.


    ¡°Who is he?¡±


    The crowd came to life. ¡°The Butcher!¡± the audience roared, voices merging into one. The executioner reached over to pat the mural of the gods. The Colosseum was built in tribute to the god of war and games and the goddess of death. It never hurt to have their blessings.


    ¡°WHO IS HE?¡±


    ¡°THE BUTCHER!¡±


    The executioner entered the arena, arms spread wide. The colosseum went wild. Screams and cheers washed over him like a wave. He stood in the center of the arena, turning and breathing it all in. Row after row of bench seats were filled. Men and women, the rich and the poor alike all came for the privilege of seeing the Emperor¡¯s justice carried out.


    They were there to see him fight. The executioner drew his sword and let out a bestial roar, lost among the screams of his adoring fans. It didn¡¯t matter that he only had one friend, or that the other gladiators did their best to ignore him or avoid him. It was all worth it, when he was standing in the middle of the Colosseum with people chanting his name.


    At least, the name of his character. Two or three nights a week, it was his. The executioner took a deep breath and let it out, coming back down to earth. His heart pounded and lightning raced through his veins. He was more than ready.


    ¡°The Butcher is hungry tonight, folks! We have not one, but two damned souls, ready to be sent off to the Darkstar¡¯s judgment! Between them, they¡¯ve cost the world a dozen lives...so far. Bring out the first prisoner!¡±


    The gate to the holding cells opened. Two armed men brought Horace up. His hands were chained together and they had a crushing grip on his arms, but Horace kept his head held high. The guards led him to the center and removed his bonds. They retreated down the ramp, and the gate closed behind them.


    ¡°Horace Secundes. Father, brother, court clerk, and a corrupt and GREEDY bastard! We get a lot of murderers, but Horace didn¡¯t get his own hands dirty, oh no. He took money to arrange for the escape of three dangerous criminals, hours before they were due to go on trial. During the escape, they killed nine good men. Two of those criminals were brought to justice already, but their leader Christophe, believed to be the head of the street gang known as the Warlords, remains at large¡­


    ¡°Tonight, Horace will pay for what he did.¡±


    Screams and jeers came from all around. Horace looked around. His quiet dignity faltered. Each second of people calling for his blood sapped his strength until he was trembling. More importantly, the executioner saw, there was still life and awareness in his eyes. He didn¡¯t take the draught.


    ¡°Horace,¡± the executioner half-shouted over the boos, ¡°what are you doing? This could¡¯ve been painless.¡± He stalked forward, hunched over and menacing like the monster he was supposed to be. He stopped just short of the prisoner.


    ¡°I-I couldn¡¯t,¡± Horace shouted back. His eyes darted around the Colosseum wildly. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for prisoners to lose their will when they were down there with him. The crowd made it real. Even watching the fights out of the tiny window in their cell couldn¡¯t fully prepare them for what awaited. ¡°I¡¯m guilty. I¡¯ll face my death like a man.¡±


    The executioner shook his head in pity, but he understood and even respected the decision. It was better than breaking down and crying.


    ¡°Like the coward he is, Horace has refused to fight for his life. He accepts his guilt and his punishment. You know what that means, folks!¡±


    ¡°Fresh meat!¡± The audience responded, turning it into a chant. ¡°Fresh meat! Fresh meat!¡±


    He hated this part. ¡°I¡¯ll make this as painless as possible. Just work with me, Horace.¡± Horace opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say, he never got the chance.


    ¡°Freeeeeeeeeesh MEAT!¡± Amicus screamed.


    The executioner surged forward. Horace took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. He stumbled, but the executioner caught him by the throat and dragged him. Across the stone center of the arena, to the ring of sand near the lowest tier of seats. Horace¡¯s eyes widened. He was in a state of perpetually falling, only to be caught and pulled along as if he was nothing. The executioner flung him down on the sand.


    Horace landed on his hands and knees. ¡°Close your eyes. Don¡¯t look at them!¡± The executioner barked. His stomach twisted into knots. ¡°Think of your daughter, Horace. The first time you ever held her.¡±


    The old man trembled on the ground. He nodded. The executioner grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back to his knees, throat angled up and outward. ¡°May the Darkstar judge you fairly and take you into her keeping,¡± said the executioner.


    He drew the sword across Horace¡¯s throat ear to ear. Blood sprayed from the wound, arcing in the air and painting the sand and wall a dark, blackish red. The executioner held Horace there until the last of his life left him and the spray tapered off. Horace¡¯s body flopped onto the sand.


    The executioner held his bloody sword up for his audience¡¯s approval. There was silence, and then a lone scream brought them all back to life. The sound lost some of its luster, but not all of it. The executioner threw his sword down next to Horace¡¯s body and returned to the center of the arena.


    ¡°Justice is served!¡± Amicus Bronte crowed. ¡°Remember this, my lovelies, whenever you even think of committing a crime. The Butcher waits for you, and he is eager to take your life!¡±


    ¡°Asshole,¡± the executioner muttered.


    Once more, the team of slaves came out with their stretcher, Giselle among them. They collected Horace and the executioner¡¯s sword. Giselle stopped five feet short of the executioner. She pulled out a large knife and lobbed it at him. It landed at his feet with a clang. She took off running back down the ramp as fast as her little legs could take her. The other slaves looked at her in alarm, then hurried after her.


    Sighing, the executioner picked up the knife. It was larger than the daggers most commonly used in street fights. It was halfway to a short sword, with a gentle curve at the tip and a guard on the hilt. The executioner tested the weight. It suited him.


    ¡°Only eleven people have won their freedom. Six in the past 20 years! Tonight, we see if there will be one more free man. This man murdered three people in mere seconds! This monster had to be stopped from massacring even more innocent Orchrisans, but our brave men of the Copper Watch intervened in time.¡±


    The gates opened again. Antonio was led out in chains by the guards. If the jeers from the crowd bothered him, he masked it well. His rags had been replaced with light armor of his own. He had the same leather breastplate that the executioner wore, along with guards on his wrists and shins. He lacked the leather skirt the executioner wore, and the executioner knew it was intentional. Looking half naked and with untamed, ratty hair, the audience wouldn¡¯t see a person fighting for their life. They¡¯d see an uncivilized, violent brute getting put down by their pet monster.


    One guard unlocked his wrists, and the other freed his legs. They took it slowly, eyes locked on the prisoner. They needn¡¯t have bothered. Antonio only had eyes for the executioner. Antonio¡¯s gaze bore straight into him. A shiver of gleeful anticipation run up and down the executioner¡¯s spine. One guard pulled the shackles away while the other retrieved Antonio¡¯s dagger and threw it at his feet. They backed up down the ramp, and the gate closed behind them.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you our newest potential pardon. Hailing from the far off country of Finsk, the murderer Antonio Brecklin!¡±


    Antonio turned his baleful glare up to the owner¡¯s box. ¡°That¡¯s not my name,¡± he said, halfway between anger and disbelief. ¡°I¡¯m talking to you,¡± he shouted at Amicus. ¡°My name is - ¡°


    ¡°Let the execution begin! FIGHT!¡±


    The moment the executioner heard the signal, everything changed. The announcer and the crowd faded away to a distant buzzing in the back of his head. The world was still, calm, in his control. He reversed the grip on his knife and dropped into a ready stance. Antonio still faced away from him, yelling at the announcer. The executioner attacked.


    With his back turned, Antonio didn¡¯t see it coming. It would¡¯ve been so easy to grab him by his wild hair and open his throat. It would¡¯ve been the fastest fight against a willing participant in the executioner¡¯s entire career. It would¡¯ve been boring. The executioner planted his boot in the prisoner¡¯s ass and sent him sprawling.


    The prisoner hit the stone hard amidst a round of laughter from the audience. He was back on his feet in seconds, face red and bottom lip bloody. Antonio snatched his dagger and was up in a knife fighter¡¯s loose, easy stance, glaring at his foe. The executioner held out his arms and bowed low, mockingly.


    Antonio came at him with all of the grace of a charger beetle and half the subtlety. He was fast, and his blade an extension of his arm. The executioner could see why Antonio¡¯s victims could¡¯ve been taken by surprise. They didn¡¯t know what to look for.


    The attack came from low to high. As Antonio closed the distance, his entire body turned, ready to lend his strength to the wild slash. Ready to commit to it. The executioner saw this about the same time Antonio thought to do it. His body in motion was as simple to read as a children¡¯s book.


    The executioner¡¯s body moved almost on its own. He fell away from the attack, stepping back. He pivoted away from the follow up he knew was coming. His heart thudded fast in his chest, but his breathing was calm. This is what he was made for. Antonio¡¯s blade came within inches of his face, and then there was an opening.


    His knife bit into skin as Antonio passed him. He whirled around in time to hear the prisoner cry out in pain. The executioner¡¯s knife was red, and a thin line was sliced into the back of Antonio¡¯s scalp, bleeding freely.


    Antonio touched the back of his head and brought his hand back, wincing. It came away dark red. The executioner held up his knife.


    ¡°First blood!¡± Amicus screamed, and the audience joined in, turning it into a chant.


    The prisoner looked around at the crowd with disgust when something else crossed him. For the first time since being arrested, he realized the gravity of his situation. He looked down at the blood on his hand, and then back at the executioner. Through all of the bluster and savagery in the man''s demeanor, there was no hiding the fear. Antonio launched himself at the executioner.


    Whatever the executioner was expecting, this wasn¡¯t it. Antonio came in fast and low. He was still a foot away when he raised his arm. He thrust the dagger at his foe¡¯s crotch. The executioner twisted in place. He caught the blade with his own and turned it away. He stuck out his foot as the prisoner¡¯s momentum carried him past. Antonio went down hard.


    The executioner took a step back and waited. Antonio scrambled back to his feet, sucking in air. The executioner bowed again, smiling.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Antonio snarled.


    He came at the executioner once more. Antonio swung, and his opponent bent backwards. The knife whizzed past the executioner¡¯s mask. Antonio pressed on, stepping into the next swing.


    It was almost too easy. The executioner backed up a step and leaned away from the knife. The prisoner had no guile, no skill. Antonio slashed, and all the executioner had to do was twist out of the way. The third time he dodged, he snapped back and struck.


    His attack sliced open a long, deeper line in the meat of Antonio¡¯s left arm. Hot red blood dripped from the wound. Antonio stared at it slack jawed, as if only just now realizing that he wasn¡¯t there to fight for his freedom. He was there to die and there wasn¡¯t a single person there who expected anything more than that. The audience¡¯s scream of approval at the new wound reminded Antonio of that.


    The executioner loved and dreaded that moment when reality hit them. The dark, predatory side of him fed on that burst of fear. The fights ended about the time the prisoners understood that they would lose. Some fought harder, and the executioner¡¯s guilt evaporated. Others gave up or started crying.


    Antonio took off running.


    Immediately, the executioner followed. Logically, he knew there was nowhere to run. There was no squeezing out of the gates, and no climbing the walls to escape via the audience. It was one last, sad attempt to survive. It was his job to make sure the prisoners didn¡¯t. He stalked forward, grip on his knife tight.


    Antonio made it to the ring of sand when he stumbled. Looking over his shoulder at his swiftly approaching death, he stumbled and fell onto the sand. He flipped himself over and scrambled backwards.


    ¡°Please,¡± he let out, voice breaking. ¡°Please don¡¯t do this.¡±


    The executioner¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°What happened to you killing me?¡± The executioner shouted, slowing as he approached. ¡°What happened to gutting me like a fish? You were doing so well. Stand. STAND!¡± It was so much harder when they begged.


    ¡°I...I¡­¡± Antonio looked around, as if searching for someone to save him. His fingers dug into the sand beneath him. ¡°I¡¯ll pay a fine, I¡¯ll --¡± It turned out, Antonio would throw a handful of sand into the executioner¡¯s face.


    The mask blocked some of it, but the eyeholes weren¡¯t small. The executioner¡¯s eyes shut too late. Burning, itching blackness took over his world. He had just enough time to be alarmed before Antonio crashed into his middle, bringing them both to the ground once more.


    His helmet hit the ring of stone, jolting and stunning him. Antonio¡¯s knife slashed his thigh, bringing him back down to earth. He struggled, wriggling underneath Antonio as the prisoner propped himself up, ready to end it with one good stab. The executioner slammed his knee up into something soft.


    Antonio let out a muffled yelp, and the executioner pressed on. He¡¯d lost his knife with the fall, but that didn¡¯t mean he was unarmed. He reached out blindly until he got a fistful of hair and yanked back. The executioner sank his fist into the man¡¯s face. Once, twice, enough to flip them over.


    That was when the pain came back, singing hot and insistent that his leg was injured, his eyes stung, the skin of his knuckles opened anew with each rough impact. The executioner didn¡¯t let up. He punched the prisoner into the ground until he blinked enough to be able to see shapes and light again.


    Antonio was down, if not dead. He shuddered on the ground, letting out quiet, weak hitches of wet breath. This was over. He just had to finish it. The executioner blinked rapidly, trying to see the world through brief flashes of vision before his eyes shut themselves again. He grabbed Antonio¡¯s knife off the ground.


    ¡°May¡­¡± The executioner started with a growl. He cleared his throat. ¡°May the Darkstar take you into her keeping.¡± He plunged the knife through the armor, through his chest, through Antonio¡¯s heart. The shuddering breaths came to a stop.


    The executioner stood, pain in his leg screaming at him, but it held. He held up Antonio¡¯s bloody knife. The audience screamed and cheered.


    ¡°UNBELIEVABLE!¡± Amicus screamed into his scepter. ¡°For a moment I thought we had a new freeman, and a vacancy in the Colosseum! But no, our champion prevails once more. Who is he?¡±


    ¡°The Butcher!¡± the crowd replied as once, voices raising to a fever pitch. ¡°Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!¡±


    The executioner closed his eyes. The name was stupid, but he never tired of hearing them chant it. It was his. When he finally lost a match, there would be a new executioner with their own dumb stage name, but there would never be another Butcher. The executioner could be proud of that.

 Chapter 3: Quentin Quintius

    Chapter 3: Quentin Quintus


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Demetrius growled.


    Enjoying his win was short lived. Demetrius waited for the executioner at the ramp. His scowl was as deep as the executioner had ever seen it. Nevertheless, he immediately threw the executioner¡¯s arm over his shoulder and helped him along. The wound on his thigh was long, but not deep. Dried blood kept it from bleeding more.


    ¡°A successful execution,¡± the executioner replied, limping down the tunnel.


    ¡°Successful in that you¡¯re alive, and he¡¯s dead, right?¡± Demetrius opened the door. They wiped their feet on the rug outside and stepped into the infirmary.


    The infirmary was the only place in the Colosseum to escape the ever present dust and sand of the desert. Salim, the physician, kept his workplace immaculate. There wasn¡¯t a spec of dust or dirt on the operating table or any of the beds in the back, hidden behind a paper screen. Oil lamps hanging from the ceiling kept the room brightly illuminated, and instilled a feeling of alertness. The physician himself was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Right. Successful in that they¡¯re both dead, I¡¯m here, and if this cut costs me a week I¡¯ll be surprised.¡± The executioner undid his chinstrap.


    Quentin Quintius pulled off the helmet.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had worse than this.¡± He wiped the sweat from his brow. The world was still blurry and watery, but the worst of it was over. ¡°Could you get me a waterskin?¡±


    ¡°Cut the shit, Quentin,¡± said Demetrius, getting a skin off the physician¡¯s desk and bringing it over. ¡°That was sloppy. You could¡¯ve ended it any time. For fuck¡¯s sakes, he wasn¡¯t even looking at you when the fight started. You could¡¯ve shanked his dumb ass in the first five seconds and danced away¡¯!¡±


    Quentin took the waterskin. He drank from it, then tilted his head back. He forced his eyes open and rinsed them out. He grit his teeth. Each second felt like an eternity. Eventually, the skin ran out. Quentin blinked slowly. Not perfect, but he could mostly see again.


    ¡°That would¡¯ve been a boring end to the fight. Amicus wouldn¡¯t live me down if there were two deaths without much of a spectacle. Besides, I could say the same for you,¡± Quentin scoffed. ¡°You could¡¯ve ended the fight with the new fish anytime.¡±


    ¡°I almos¡¯ had him!¡± a slow, slurring voice said from one of the beds. Jonas raised up, eyes flickering around in a daze when they were even open. A bandage was wrapped around his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s different and you know it,¡± said Demetrius. ¡°He didn¡¯t have a chance, but it was important to see how well he¡¯d do.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°Lay down and try to get some rest, kid,¡± Demetrius growled in a way that struck Quentin as almost fatherly. Jonas eased himself back down to the bed with a muffled groan.


    ¡°When he does well, it¡¯s gonna go somewhere.¡± Demetrius continued. ¡°We¡¯re going to put him out there and he¡¯s going to put on a show. He¡¯s gonna make some money, get injured somewhere along the line, and then settle down with one of his fans. Brag about his glory days to a house full of whiny brats.


    ¡°What d¡¯you think happens if one of the poor bastards they throw at you does well? Lemme think.¡± Demetrius put his finger on his chin. ¡°Oh right. They kill you.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t respond at first. He looked away from Demetrius, and settled on the cut. Just under seven inches long. Each dull pulse of pain was somewhere in the background, barely noticed. He could almost forget it was there, if it wasn¡¯t for the incessant itching.


    ¡°Demetrius, would you get me the suture kit?¡± Quentin pointed over to the shelves above the operating table.


    He grunted and left. Quentin sighed. He set about removing his armor. The breastplate fell to the floor, followed by the leather skirt. He took his time with the arm and shin braces. Quentin was left in only his loincloth. Now that the fight was over, all of the previous doubts, guilt, and insecurities came back. He hated being exposed.


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± he said after Demetrius came back with a metal tray lined with tools and two bottles. Quentin grabbed the bottle. ¡°Amicus wants them to fight back, and...I do too. It¡¯s easier when they fight back.¡± He poured a brownish liquid over the wound. It stung, but it was better than getting an infection.


    ¡°Amicus would cream himself if you offered to torture them in front of the crowd,¡± Demetrius retorted, pacing around the room..


    ¡°...You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Quentin repeated, laughing weakly. He grabbed a curved bone needle and the thread. ¡°I don¡¯t want to torture them, but I want a fight.¡± He threaded the needle.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight you,¡± Jonas slurred.


    Demetrius sat down next to the fallen teen. ¡°Sure thing, as soon as you¡¯re rested up, kid.¡± He reached out to tousle Jonas¡¯ hair, but thought better of it. ¡°You might even win it, if Quintius continues to be an idiot and gives people chances to kill him.¡±


    Quentin opened the other bottle. He poured out a thick, oily looking goop onto his wound. The itching and burning disappeared, replaced with a distant, freezing sensation. ¡°Look. I know it¡¯s dumb, it¡¯s risky, it¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Suicidal?¡±


    ¡°Sure. But¡­¡± Quentin trailed off. He wasn¡¯t used to having to explain or defend anything. Prisoners, he had authority over. Most people didn¡¯t talk to him. This was, he decided, a problem entirely unique to dealing with Demetrius. He was saved from answering by the infirmary door opening.


    His relief turned to unease when Amicus Brontes walked through the door. The owner of the Colosseum was a short, fat, pale man in the finest clothes money could buy. His curly brown hair was going grey and balding on top, leaving wild tufts along the sides. He had a big mouth and was famous for his massive, manic grins. Upon seeing Quentin, he frowned.


    ¡°What in the name of the gods were you thinking, Quintius?¡± Amicus rumbled, stopping a foot short. Quentin fought the urge to cover up his pale, nearly naked body.


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Quentin swallowed hard. ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t thinking?¡± Amicus supplied with mock enthusiasm. ¡°Didn¡¯t care about the consequences of your actions? Please, please, please tell me what was going on in that pretty pale head of yours, Quentin. I¡¯m dying to know.¡± He crossed his arms.


    ¡°I, uh,¡± Demetrius stepped out from behind the paper screen. ¡°I was just talking with him about that, Amicus. I told him it was stupid to risk his life like --¡±


    ¡°Risk his life?¡± Amicus gaped. ¡°Risk his LIFE?¡± He threw his head back and let out a booming, forced laugh. ¡°That¡¯s what he gets paid for, you idiot! I don¡¯t give a damn about him risking his life. It would take nothing to find some jackass who loves money and killing to fill that role. No,¡± Amicus said, sneering, ¡°I¡¯m referring to the little visit.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Quentin.¡±


    ¡°Ohhhh,¡± Amicus echoed. ¡°That rings a bell, does it? Care to explain?¡±


    Quentin took a deep breath. No, Demetrius couldn¡¯t save him from this one. The longer he went without acknowledging it, the worse it would be. He grabbed the needle and thread. ¡°He¡¯d...He¡¯d been locked up alone for a month. It wasn¡¯t right.¡±


    Amicus flung the metal tray to the side. Quentin, Demetrius, and even Jonas flinched. He got close, finger thrust in Quentin¡¯s face, but he still didn¡¯t come close to touching him. ¡°Who gives a shit? He was dying in an hour! You¡¯re not here to make the prisoner¡¯s lives better, or give them any fucking closure. Your job is to go out there and kill them.


    ¡°What did you gain out of letting the man¡¯s daughter see him? No no, better yet. What did I gain out of it?¡±


    Quentin looked to Demetrius, who shrugged. Amicus stared him down, waiting. Past the irritation, Quentin could see a hint of glee, not unlike how he felt when going in for the kill. There was no clean way out of this.


    ¡°Well, your father,¡± Quentin started.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Has been dead for five years now and is not the current topic of conversation,¡± said Amicus. ¡°We¡¯re talking about what you letting in a civilian to see her condemned father did for me.¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Amicus echoed, nodding. ¡°So tell me. Why should I keep you around if you risk security leaks on behalf of the prisoners? Give me one good reason why I shouldn¡¯t sack you and find someone who will do your job the way I want it done.¡±


    Because it¡¯s a dangerous job and the only reason he had it was because they ran out of people willing to do it, Quentin wanted to say. Because they¡¯d lost 6 executioners in the ten years before he started, and each one cost the colosseum greatly. Because even if Amicus hated him, the supreme arbiter appreciated stability and consistency. It was possible Amicus could get him kicked out if he bitched enough, but it wasn¡¯t likely.


    Quentin said none of these things.


    Instead, he sighed and slumped. ¡°Because,¡± said Quentin, ¡°You get my pay for executing Horace. You¡¯re right. I broke the rules and it was an unnecessary risk. It¡¯s only fair you should be compensated for your patience. My court fee for Horace is yours.¡±


    That did it. Amicus¡¯ eyes glittered with greed. ¡°Mm,¡± he said, nodding. ¡°That¡¯s...Acceptable. You get this warning. Do it again and it¡¯ll be the Colosseum fee.¡± He grinned, showing crooked teeth.


    Quentin grit his teeth. ¡°How about a compromise? I¡¯ll keep you informed, but for the prisoners who deserve to be able to say goodbye one last time, we let them and you take my court fee.¡±


    Amicus thought about it. His grin widened. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what. In your next execution, give the audience something to really cheer about. Dismember the poor bastard, cut off their head, stab them a few times and draw it out. Give us a proper show, and you can have your last goodbyes. That second execution, with the guy from Finsk¡­¡±


    ¡°Antonio,¡± Quentin sighed.


    ¡°Whatever. That was a good start. Go a bit further next time, and I¡¯ll consider it.¡± Amicus¡¯s booming laughter filled the room, lingering even after he left.


    No sooner had the door closed before Jonas lurched to a sitting position. His eyes swirled in and out of focus, settling on the door. ¡°That guy¡¯sss a real dick,¡± he slurred.


    ¡°Well said, kid,¡± Demetrius clasped the teen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°So, about you being satisfied with that execution¡­¡±


    Quentin buried his face in his hands. ¡°Fuck you,¡± he groaned


    ¡°You¡¯re not my type,¡± Demetrius snorted. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t care about your life, what the hell was the end of that fight? You didn¡¯t fight him like a gladiator, Quentin. You fought him like an inhuman pit dog. Do you want to be a pit dog again, Quentin?¡±


    He shook his head. That was years ago, and he was better than that now. He was no longer the scared, angry kid who was willing to throw himself into a fight for the spare shards they tossed his way.


    ¡°No,¡± Quentin said softly. ¡°But it let me live. You just said you didn¡¯t want me to die, brother. Would you rather me die or be a pit dog?¡±


    Demetrius scowled. ¡°Neither, preferably. Those aren¡¯t the only two choices. You¡­¡± Demetrius paused. It was rare to see him mull over his words carefully instead of letting them tumble out like a rockslide, heedless of who was about to get crushed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been at the Colosseum for close to forty years,¡± he said. ¡°In that time, I¡¯ve seen eleven different executioners, includin¡¯ you. Out of ¡®em, two were decent enough men who did their jobs quietly¡¯n honorably. Six of them were sloppy shitshows that got themselves killed bein¡¯ fools in the arena, and three of them were cruel and stupid and ended up dead outside of here. But you¡¯re the only one who¡¯d let a daughter in to say goodbye to her father.¡± Demetrius tugged on Jonas¡¯ arm until he was upright.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Quentin.


    Demetrius shrugged. ¡°Dunno. You¡¯re not a pit dog. You¡¯re not any of the guys who came before you, either. You¡¯ve lasted longer¡¯n most of ¡®em, but...Maybe you¡¯re too good for this job, and seeing you go ballistic on a guy and beat him almost all the way to death makes me worry.¡±


    ¡°Worry,¡± Quentin scoffed, staring down at the floor. Anything to avoid meeting Demetrius¡¯ eyes.


    ¡°Yeah, worry. I try¡¯n look out for all the dumbasses under my wing. You may be the star of the show, but that doesn¡¯t make you any less of a dumbass. C¡¯mon kid,¡± Demetrius tugged on Jonas¡¯ arm. ¡°Let¡¯s get you out of here.¡±


    Jonas fell to his feet. He wobbled but remained upright. The next step, he faltered but Demetrius caught him and helped him stay up. The trainer sighed, but was smiling. Slowly, they made their way to the door. Demetrius¡¯ hand was on the handle when Jonas stopped them, looking over his shoulder.


    ¡°Oh yeah. Hey! Quentin! The guyss were gonna buy me a drink. Celebratin¡¯ my first¡­¡± His eyes unfocused for a second. ¡°First fight! You wanna come? It¡¯ll be great.¡±


    Quentin grimaced. He looked over to Demetrius, who wore a similar expression. He shook his head at the executioner. Quentin nodded. ¡°That¡¯s really...Great of you to offer, kid. Maybe another time.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on! We¡¯ll wait until¡­¡± Jonas gestured at Quentin¡¯s leg. ¡°No problem! You belong with us, yeah?¡±


    Demetrius tugged on the teen¡¯s arm. ¡°He¡¯s not much of a drinker. C¡¯mon. We¡¯ll get you a beer or two, and then get you home. Before your brains leak out your ears.¡± He flashed an apologetic half smile at Quentin, and dragged Jonas along. Finally, Quentin was alone.


    He let out a long, frustrated sigh. Getting a drink with fellow gladiators would¡¯ve been fantastic. Back when he¡¯d worked in this very room, he occasionally got away with joining them for drinks when the Colosseum closed. That was ten, nearly eleven years ago. He didn¡¯t think about it often. It was easier to forget and move on, when being ignored was the status quo. Jonas seemed like a good kid, and Quentin almost hated him for not knowing how things worked around there. In a few months, he probably wouldn¡¯t speak to Quentin either.


    Quentin bent over and scooped the needle and thread from the floor. Briefly, he considered limping over to get new ones, but decided against it. Salim kept the infirmary obsessively clean. The floor was good enough to eat off of. He smiled at the reaming he¡¯d get if Salim knew, and threaded the needle. He pressed his finger close to the wound. The flesh was still good and numb, and would be for at least another hour. It was good enough.


    Pressing the needle through his flesh was something that had once been disconcerting. There was no pain, but he could feel the pressure as he pushed it through first one bit of skin, then the next. He pulled, and the thread pulled his skin back together. That part, oddly enough, tickled. When Quentin first worked on himself, he nearly passed out from the shock of it. Now, it was almost comforting.


    Methodical. It was nice, putting something back together. Healing, instead of killing. Each push of the needle and pull of the thread smoothed over the damage. In a week or two, it would only be a scar. A year or two from now, maybe not even that, with how quickly he healed. The same went for the executions. A few people would talk about tonight for a week, maybe two, and then it would fade away.


    No one in Orchrisus would remember Antonio Brechen. Would his traveling companions? Did he have family back in Finsk who would wonder why he didn¡¯t come home? People would remember Horace Secundes, but with any luck they would leave his daughter alone.


    The stitches were nearly done when the door opened once more. Quentin looked up to see the physician, finally there. The lanky, dark skinned Ramali man had a stub of a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He took one last puff and dropped it on the floor before coming into his infirmary. He exhaled the smoke, and grunted at Quentin.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t wait until I got here, Butcher?¡± Salim asked. His raspy voice was neutral, almost bored.


    Quentin frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve asked you not to call me that.¡± He looked back down at his leg and continued stitching. ¡°You weren¡¯t here, and it hurt. I figured I could do it myself, so I did.¡±


    Salim walked over to Quentin and knelt. He put his hand on Quentin¡¯s leg as he inspected the job so far. His dark skin made Quentin¡¯s pallor all the more stark in comparison. ¡°You¡¯ve used too much numbing gel,¡± he said.


    ¡°I probably missed the beetle carts, so I¡¯m going to have to walk home. I didn¡¯t want to be in agony the entire time. Could¡¯ve used less gel if you were here to patch me up sooner.¡± Quentin didn¡¯t bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice.


    ¡°Yes. I had a corpse to stitch up and make pretty. I seem to recall you asking me to do so, so that his daughter would not receive a corpse with a big red smile. Should I have not?¡± Salim looked up at Quentin.


    Quentin flinched. ¡°No,¡± he said. Lucia would have her father back, and he could be properly sent off. ¡°Thank you,¡± he added. He held up the needle.


    Salim shook his head, almost smiling. ¡°No. You¡¯re doing a fine job of it yourself. Finish what you started, Butcher.¡±


    Frowning, he went back to work. It was harder with the physician hovering over the wound. It was on purpose, Quentin knew. It was a reminder, the same one he got every time he had to be patched up. Quentin did his best to ignore him and finished the last three stitches and tied it off. He put the needle down and put his hands up.


    Salim looked at it silently, then nodded. ¡°Clean. Not too tight, or loose. Your base knot is shit though. Overall, passable.¡± He got up and got a rag, wetted it, shears, and came back. He cut the suture at the end, and wiped away the blood with a wet cloth. He nodded again, and stood up. ¡°You were a good assistant. You could¡¯ve made a good surgeon.¡±


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t choose to become a killer, you mean.¡±


    He got an affirmative grunt in response. ¡°What we choose defines us.¡±


    Quentin reddened. ¡°I¡¯m good at this,¡± he said. ¡°Are you going to do this every time I come in here?¡±


    Salim sniffed. ¡°A healer makes a vow to hurt no one. Kill no one. At the first opportunity, you abandoned that.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t a healer yet,¡± Quentin protested. ¡°I was just an assistant. I made no vows.¡±


    ¡°I taught you what I knew. Kept you out of prison or slavery.¡± Salim, apparently, wasn¡¯t done. Not once did his voice raise or change in tone. He sounded permanently detached. ¡°In return, you traded healing for fighting behind that mask. Instead of harming no one, you¡¯ve killed...How many now, Butcher?¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re doing this,¡± Quentin sighed, fingers digging into the bed. ¡°What do you want from me, Salim? What would you have me do instead? Everyone else seems to have an opinion tonight. I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    Salim turned away from Quentin. ¡°Clean up when you¡¯re done.¡± He said, nudging the fallen armor with his foot. Then he too left Quentin alone with his thoughts.


    Before the executions, he hesitated. During, he was strong, feared, loved, and every second of fighting for his life reminded him that he was, in fact, alive. Afterwards, it always came crashing down on him. For twenty minutes, Quentin felt alive and on top of the world. Was that really so wrong? If it wasn¡¯t him, they¡¯d get someone else. He repeated that in his head, the way he¡¯d done after every execution over the past decade. Quentin climbed to his feet.


    His leg held his weight without buckling. There was no pain yet, and wouldn¡¯t be for a while. If he hurried now, he could be home before it wore off, and start drinking. Maybe even enough to stop feeling like shit for what he did.


    ¡°They don¡¯t get it,¡± Quentin said to himself. ¡°This is the only thing I¡¯m good at.¡±

 Chapter 4: The Escort

    Chapter 4: The Escort


    In the time it took Quentin to finish cleaning himself up and get dressed, the Colosseum had all but emptied. The slaves remained, as did the few guards on the night shift. There were always a few people who lingered out front but most had already piled into the carts and were on their way home. When he stepped out of the employee¡¯s entrance there was one cart left, filling quickly.


    A behemoth beetle was hitched to the cart, placidly chewing on a mix of half rotten vegetation and garbage. The moonlight reflected off its shiny black carapace. It was half again as big as the cart it pulled, and the cart carried half a dozen people. More, if they were friendly and didn¡¯t mind a slow, cramped ride as the monstrous insect lumbered across the city.


    ¡°You getting on?¡± The driver called out to him, patting the beetle¡¯s single long, curved horn.


    Quentin reflexively pulled his cloak tighter. He glanced over to the cart. The only open spot would sandwich him in between a particularly husky Policheran man and a young couple intent on devouring each other¡¯s faces.


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk,¡± he said.


    The driver shrugged. ¡°Nice night for it.¡± He closed the back of the cart and got into the driver¡¯s seat. He took hold of the reins and let out a shrill whistle. The beetle¡¯s wings fluttered once, then it lurched forward at a slow but steady pace.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. Winter was on its way out and spring was around the corner. The night was warm enough for Quentin to forgo his gloves and just enjoy the breeze. Orchrisus at night was a different world entirely. Without the sun¡¯s harsh glare enveloping the land in a vaguely orange haze as far as the eye could see, the soft glow of the moon and stars turned the bustling city into an ethereal paradise.


    The Colosseum stood alone on the north edge of town. Where Quentin stood, there was a quarter mile of empty desert between him and the first line of shacks and tents. With each passing block the buildings grew more and more dense and labyrinthine. It was easy, standing there, to forget that he lived in the heart of arguably the largest city in the world.


    At any given time there were thousands milling around or going about their lives, never realizing how wonderful it was, being invisible and unremembered. Every day they would meet and interact with dozens, if not hundreds of people and not think twice about how blessed they were. It was easy, standing there alone on the outskirts and looking in, to be envious of that sense of community and belonging.


    ¡°Shit.¡± Quentin heard from behind him. ¡°Did I miss the last beetle?¡±


    ¡°Afraid so,¡± he replied, not turning around.


    ¡°That¡¯s just my luck.¡± She, and it was definitely a she, stopped beside him. The cart disappeared behind the first line of tents. She let out a short, exasperated laugh. ¡°You miss it too?¡±


    ¡°No. I like walking.¡± He looked down at her, and his heart skipped a beat.


    People the world over came to Orchrisus, in all shapes, sizes, and walks of life. It was easy to become inured to the weird and unusual, but even so Quentin found himself staring. She was tiny, at least a foot shorter than Quentin. Her skin was a rich, dark brown, standing out even more against her yellow sun dress. She had to be an Islander.


    The Islander smiled at him, and the night lit up. She had a heart shaped face that radiated warmth. It took him too long to notice her head was shaved completely smooth. Silver glinted from studs in her earlobes and left nostril. Quentin found himself staring, and only realized it when she arched one delicate eyebrow at him. He looked away.


    ¡°Hi there,¡± she said, amusement clear in her voice. ¡°Now, do you like what you see, or was that disapproval? It¡¯s always one of the two.¡± She laughed again. It was a warm, throaty, pleasant sound.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Quentin, ¡°it¡¯s been a long day. I didn¡¯t mean to stare.¡± He started walking, willing his face to cool down.


    The Islander wasn¡¯t put off. She fell into step with him. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not a problem. But that wasn¡¯t an answer either,¡± she said.


    ¡°...Yes,¡± Quentin replied. He didn''t know why he answered. Maybe it was the embarrassment of getting caught. ¡°You look... you look good. Sorry for staring.¡±


    ¡°Don''t be. The day men stop staring is the day I have to find a new job. Speaking of¡­¡± She slid her arm around his.


    He stopped and turned to face her. His stomach jumped, and he wasn''t sure if it was because he wanted to get away or because he was caught and she wasn''t angry. All Quentin knew was that she made him vaguely uneasy.


    ¡°The place I''m staying is pretty far. Just north of the river. Is yours closer?¡± She grinned without any shame.


    It all clicked. Quentin let out a breathless chuckle. ¡°Do you ordinarily proposition strange, cloaked men late at night?¡± For a moment, he worried that he was off the mark, and that she would slap him.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, ¡°I normally proposition rich men. Usually in the early evening, but I¡¯m flexible.¡± She leaned forward, trying to get a peek at Quentin¡¯s face.


    He pulled away, holding his cloak tight. ¡°I see. Doesn¡¯t it seem a little dangerous? You have no idea who I am. I could be a crazed killer, for all you know.¡± He bit back a bitter chuckle.


    The woman shrugged, still wearing that pleasant smile. ¡°If you were, would you really be trying to get away from me? My name is Razia,¡± she said, holding her hand out. ¡°Razia Rashid. A pleasure to meet you¡­?¡±


    ¡°Quentin,¡± he said, taking her hand. He immediately regretted it when she looked down and saw her small dark hand completely enveloped in his big pale grip. He took his hand back. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m¡­¡± The words escaped him. With each passing second he came to wish that the earth would swallow him.


    Razia didn¡¯t seem bothered. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to be sorry. Or nervous.¡± She slowly extended her hand towards him. Towards his cloak, he realized, as she put her hand on his shoulder. ¡°May I?¡±


    No. Yes. Quentin¡¯s heart pounded in his chest so hard there was no doubt she could feel it. It was silly. He knew it was silly. Razia was lovely, but she all but admitted she wanted money out of him. Or maybe it was curiosity. See if the rest of him was as much of a fre -- Quentin took a deep breath, and took a chance. He nodded.


    The hood went down, and Quentin was exposed. There was no one else for at least a quarter of a mile, but a sense of panic and need to hide clawed at him from inside. Even if the moon wasn¡¯t near full and bright, there was no missing him for what he was. Quentin stood very, very still, waiting.


    Razia looked over him for a short eternity. Her face was neutral, eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked over his features. She took her time, as if she was trying to memorize him. ¡°You,¡± she began. Here it came. Quentin grimaced. ¡°Have gorgeous eyes.¡±


    What?


    ¡°What?¡± he said out loud.


    ¡°Your eyes,¡± Razia said, pointing up at them, ¡°are gorgeous. Haunting, even! I¡¯ve never seen eyes that color before.¡± She laughed, and it was like a splash of cold water.


    ¡°You¡¯re making fun of me,¡± said Quentin, frowning.


    ¡°I¡¯m not! You could freeze a girl at twenty paces with eyes like that. That¡¯s the lightest blue I¡¯ve ever seen!¡±


    His frown only deepened. ¡°I think you might be forgetting something here.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Realization caught up a second later, and she rolled her eyes. ¡°I mean, yeah, you¡¯re moonkissed, but --¡±


    Whatever she said next was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through his head. It didn¡¯t matter how many times he heard the term, it was like a punch to the gut. He didn¡¯t bother sticking around. Quentin flipped his hood back up and continued towards the city. A second later, Razia was at his side again, jogging to keep up with his pace.


    ¡°Hey, hold on!¡± Razia tugged on his arm again. She couldn¡¯t have stopped him if she¡¯d dug her feet in and held on. Quentin slowed, but didn¡¯t stop. ¡°Was it something I said?¡± He nearly pulled his arm back, but a quick glance showed that she looked earnest, if nothing else.


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    ¡°Moonkissed,¡± he said through clenched teeth. ¡°I hate that word. There¡¯s no curse. Naturalists have found animals like this, and no one talks about them being cursed. No one calls them moonkissed.¡±


    Razia¡¯s mouth opened and closed without making a sound. She had the good grace to look embarrassed. ¡°What curse?¡± she finally managed to say. ¡°Moonkissed are good luck, right?¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t answer, but he stopped.


    ¡°Stillborn babies, given a second chance by the goddess of death?¡± she continued, haltingly. ¡°Bring good luck and prosperity to their loved ones? I have a cousin who¡¯s moonkissed, and people love him. His spouses feel pretty blessed, at least. C¡¯mon, you gotta give me something here, hon.¡±


    Quentin searched her face for even the slightest hint of deception, a smile, something. All he found was a lovely young woman, looking increasingly regretful and nervous. He lowered his hood slowly.


    ¡°I like your version better,¡± he said, forcing a smile. ¡°I prefer albino though.¡±


    ¡°Oh thank the gods,¡± said Razia. She all but deflated, laughing. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t ask what it means around here, should I? I promise, if I had known it was a sore subject, I wouldn¡¯t have said anything.¡± Razia closed the distance and put her hand on his chest. ¡°How about we get indoors, and I give you a proper apology?¡±


    He gaped. This was beyond shameless. Quentin¡¯s face became an inferno. Her smile was back again, and mischievous this time. ¡°Uhh¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh gods, you¡¯re blushing!¡± Her eyes lit up. ¡°No no, I¡¯m not teasing,¡± Razia hastily added, ¡°it¡¯s just...Your face actually gets more color when you blush. You get pinker. It¡¯s adorable.¡±


    His mouth hung open with half a dozen sentences he couldn¡¯t get out. He imagined he looked somewhat like a fish. Razia was patient, and she didn¡¯t move. Her hands still rested on his chest, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It made it hard to think straight.


    ¡°Why me?¡± he croaked. ¡°You, we --¡± Quentin licked his lips. ¡°We already established you¡¯re pretty --¡±


    ¡°Just pretty?¡± Razia grinned.


    ¡°And just half a mile from here is a decent sized inn,¡± Quentin continued, ¡°where you could find any number of men who would accept before you could even finish offering. You don¡¯t need to make anything up to me. Seriously.¡±


    He met her gaze. He was roughly twice Razia¡¯s size, but her hungry grin had him pinned. She was close enough to be uncomfortable, but he couldn¡¯t move. Quentin felt like a small animal, cornered by a predator.


    Razia shrugged. She trailed her hands down his chest, stopping before she got to his belt. ¡°A girl¡¯s gotta eat, right? I could probably have people lining up, but you¡¯re the only one here, you look like you could use some good company, and¡­¡± Her grin widened. ¡°You seem so nervous that I can¡¯t see you possibly being a danger to anyone.


    ¡°Harmless tends to be a fantastic trait in potential clients.¡± Razia stuck out her tongue. It too had a silver stud through it. ¡°What do you say, Quentin?¡±


    He said nothing at first. It was tempting as it was difficult to not burst out laughing at being called harmless. Gods, it was refreshing to find someone not scared or disgusted by him. The way that she smiled at him was¡­


    A show, Quentin reminded himself. She wanted money, and a sad freak like him was an easy mark.


    What did that matter? Even if it was only for a night, it would be better to share it than to go home and brood until the sun came up. Again.


    ¡°How about this,¡± said Razia, voice softening, ¡°walk me to a safe part of town. If we get there and you don¡¯t want anything to do with me, I¡¯ll drop it.¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°If I¡¯m harmless, what good would having me around be?¡±


    To his surprise, she was serious. ¡°Just having another person here would keep some of the worst jackals away.¡±


    He knew what she meant. Quentin nodded. He put his hood back up. Razia smiled. She hooked her arm in his once more, and they set off towards the center of Orchrisus.


    The desert between the city and the Colosseum was a silent place. Few people lingered there long, even during the day. The only sounds were the ever present hum of insects and the sound of sand crunching beneath their sandals. That changed when they reached the tent village.


    Those too poor to rent a house or even a room formed their own community on the outskirts. They weren¡¯t bad people, but Quentin always kept his eyes open and one hand on his purse around them. Many of them wouldn''t steal from each other, but there were no qualms about preying on the people passing through.


    ¡°So what had you there at the Colosseum so late?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Razia¡¯s question made him start. He turned away from the tents and back to her. ¡°Oh. I work there.¡±


    Her eyes lit up. ¡°Oh yeah? What do you do?¡±


    Quentin froze. Razia stopped as well and looked at him, smiling shrinking but not fading. ¡°I, uh.¡± He could kick himself. No one talked to him. No one asked him what he did. ¡°I work in the infirmary,¡± he said, face heating up once more. ¡°And the practice yard. When they need someone stitched up or a practice dummy to beat up on, they get me.¡±


    It had been true, once.


    ¡°That¡¯s versatile. So, if I get hurt, you can patch me up and if danger shows up, you can take the hits while I get away?¡± Razia gave his arm a playful squeeze.


    Quentin chuckled. ¡°Yeah, exactly.¡± He started moving again, faster now. He didn¡¯t want to linger in that area any longer than they had to.


    The end of the line of tents was in sight. They stopped abruptly, turning into a line of worn clay houses, all painted different vibrant colors. During the day, they kept the city from being the same drab beige as the environment. At night, they were the first signs of the city, and were marginally safer than the tent village. There were safer paths to Quentin¡¯s home, but none as fast.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Quentin asked as they passed the threshold and he breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°You should¡¯ve probably been gone about ten minutes before I came out. They usually usher people out pretty quickly once the show¡¯s over.¡±


    When Razia didn¡¯t answer immediately, Quentin looked down at her. Her face was oddly pensive. ¡°The executions,¡± she said. ¡°This was my first time catching a show. Can you believe that? I¡¯ve been in Orchrisus for four months now, and this was the first time I¡¯ve been to the Colosseum. Everyone was telling me I had to go and see it.¡±


    A knot formed in Quentin¡¯s stomach. ¡°Yeah?¡± he croaked. ¡°What did you think of it?¡±


    ¡°It...Seemed cruel, honestly. Having to die in front of that many people. But it was still pretty captivating!¡± she added quickly, ¡°I mostly came for the first execution. That was...sad. The second one was a surprise, and that one was kind of fun. I thought that the man¡­¡±


    ¡°Antonio,¡± Quentin supplied. They passed a long haired, shirtless man leaning against a house, arms crossed over his chest and whistling to himself. Quentin eyeballed the man as they passed. He didn¡¯t look up, but he let out a long, high pitched whistle that sent a shiver down Quentin¡¯s back.


    Razia looked at the man curiously, but turned back to Quentin. ¡°Yeah, him. For a second I thought he was going to win. The guy next to me laughed at me for it, even! It was kind of funny. That executioner, the Butcher, right? They couldn¡¯t seem to decide whether we¡¯re supposed to cheer for him or be afraid of him.¡±


    Quentin stopped them just shy of the next intersection of paths. He held up his hand before Razia could ask. This part of town wasn¡¯t quiet at this hour. Lights could be seen through windows, and every so often a few younger men could be seen hanging together, dicing or laughing together. There was no one ahead of them. He couldn¡¯t see past the houses on either side of him to see if there was anyone there, but he wasn¡¯t about to ignore the feeling in his gut.


    Instead, Quentin led them back a few feet and they slipped down a narrow alley between houses. Razia followed along, jogging to keep up with his longer steps. Sandwiched between houses, only the barest slivers of moonlight shone through. After a few agonizing seconds of walking silently, Quentin relaxed. He nodded to Razia.


    ¡°You take that Butcher thing seriously too?¡± Razia teased. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s following us, hon. If he was, you work with him, right?¡±


    Quentin forced a weak laugh. ¡°I¡¯m more worried about getting mugged than the Butcher getting me. This part of town can be shady.¡± Razia looked around the narrow alley. She raised her eyebrow. ¡°I say, as I bring you down a dark alleyway.¡± He sighed. ¡°Anyway, the Butcher only kills people who are guilty.¡±


    The alley stretched on for another 20 feet. They got to the end when Razia stopped and looked up at him questioningly. ¡°You sure about that? Everyone who gets sentenced to death is guilty, without any mistakes?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, looking away. He could lie, he supposed. But if he was honest with the people he put to death, why couldn¡¯t he be honest with her? ¡°No,¡± he admitted. ¡°I guess I can¡¯t guarantee that there aren¡¯t mistakes. The Supreme Arbiter is thorough. I mostly trust the courts to do their job.¡±


    ¡°Mostly,¡± Razia echoed. ¡°That first man who was executed tonight. He was definitely guilty, right? He busted some people out, and they killed people.¡±


    Another punch to the gut. He took a deep breath and let it out. ¡°That first execution really bothered you, huh?¡± Quentin asked quietly. ¡°It bothered me too. I had a chance to talk with Horace before the end. He regretted what he did. He accepted his death as fair.¡±


    Quentin took a chance and put his hand on her shoulder. Razia looked at it, and then back up at him. The corners of her lips twitched, though he didn¡¯t know if it was the start of a smile or her holding back a laugh. Comforting the soon to be deceased, he decided, was easier.


    Footsteps sounded around the corner. Quentin stepped in front of Razia, stomach twisting. A second later, two men appeared at the exit to the alley, breathing heavily. Both of them were shirtless and had intricate tattoos on their chests. In the dark, Quentin couldn¡¯t make out their faces, but he didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡°Quentin?¡± Razia asked, peeking from behind him. ¡°Is that¡­?¡±


    ¡°Street gang,¡± Quentin replied. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose we can just walk away from this, can we?¡± He backed up as they walked forward, keeping Razia behind him at all times.


    ¡°That depends, friend,¡± a voice said from behind them. Quentin whirled around to see a third man. He walked into a moonbeam, and Quentin could see it was the shirtless whistler. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Quentin realized his instincts were right. ¡°How many shards do you have on you?¡±

 Chapter 5: Mean Streets

    Chapter 5: Mean Streets


    Razia let out a sharp, genuine laugh that had everyone, Quentin included, turning to stare at her.


    ¡°Oh come on. You¡¯re not going to do the toll road bit, are you?¡± She pushed past Quentin¡¯s arm and stood proudly in front of the leader of them. The leader cocked his head to the side. He considered Razia, a smile growing on his face. Quentin looked between him and the two men still slowly edging forward, pinning them in.


    ¡°No,¡± he finally said. ¡°No bit. We¡¯re robbing you. You either give us your money or we perforate you. We¡¯re simple men, we want a simple thing. We¡¯re far from any Watch patrols. What¡¯ll it be?¡±


    ¡°And what if we don¡¯t have any money?¡± Razia pressed, getting a little bit closer to him. Quentin wanted to shush her, but she didn¡¯t look the slightest bit intimidated. ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten started for the evening, and my friend here is practically a slave.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just let us be?¡±


    The leader pulled out a glass knife from his belt. Behind them, the other two men did as well. They were short, curved little things. Good for stabbing, but too fragile for a real fight. The type that were easily concealed in clothes, and didn¡¯t come anywhere near violating the city¡¯s weapon restrictions. They would kill someone just as easily as a sword or spear.


    ¡°Razia?¡± Quentin said, trying to warn her. If he went for his own knife, they¡¯d be on him in seconds. His fingers still itched to draw it.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll kill the slave and take you back with us,¡± said one of the men blocking their escape. He was taller than even Quentin and built like a brick wall. He mimicked grabbing her and thrusting against her. That made his partner laugh, and even the leader chuckled.


    ¡°Yes, what Gregor said,¡± he drawled. ¡°Though at this rate, you¡¯re wasting our time. Might be easier to just shank you both. What do you think, boys?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about them,¡± Razia pressed, ¡°but that doesn¡¯t work for me. How about you and me talk about it for a little while? Just the two of us, and you let my friend go.¡±


    Quentin put his hand on Razia¡¯s arm to keep her from getting closer. ¡°Look,¡± he said, swallowing down his growing anxiety, ¡°there¡¯s no need for any of that. I¡¯ve got some money right here. It¡¯s yours. We¡¯ll be on our way and you can go back to drinking or creeping around or literally anything other than threatening us.¡± He reached to his belt and pulled out a small cloth sack. He jingled it and the sounds of glass on glass followed.


    The sounds of insects in the night and distant people faded away as Quentin¡¯s heartbeat started working in double time. After spending most of his life fighting, he could practically taste it when a fight was about to break out. Everything in him screamed to act first, to seize the advantage before they could keep control of the situation. The leader looked at the bag of money and seemed to be considering it, but then his gaze slid over to Razia.


    ¡°Wait a minute¡­¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°I know you. You were at that party a couple months ago, down on the south side. One of the leaders of the gangs, Piro I think, brought you out and humiliated you. You walked away crying!¡±


    All of Razia¡¯s confidence evaporated in an instant. ¡°Oh,¡± she said.


    The leader¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°It was you! Oh gods. Boys, change of plans. Someone¡¯s going to want to have a few words with her.¡±


    Razia turned towards Quentin. Her warm, soft features were twisted in real fear then. Quentin didn¡¯t think about it for a second. He let out his breath and acted.


    ¡°Here!¡± He lobbed the bag of shards high up in the air above the thug. The leader looked up and that was the distraction Quentin needed. He stepped forward and drove his fist through the man¡¯s face. He felt the man¡¯s nose crunch and his own already battered knuckles split open again.


    The thug dropped. Quentin ignored the urge to stomp him, kick him, and win the fight. He took off instead, tightening his grip on Razia¡¯s arm and dragging her along with him. ¡°Run!¡± he shouted.


    ¡°Ged dem!¡± Quentin heard the leader shout thickly. He smiled, feeling the throb in his hand. The dark alley they¡¯d slowly crept down when trying to avoid being mugged took only a few seconds at a sprint. By the time the gang had recovered from the shock, Quentin already guided Razia back onto the main thoroughfare.


    They tore down the main street, pushing past a couple of men, hand in hand. One of the men shouted something rude after him. A few seconds later, he shouted again, but this time in fear. Quentin and Razia were already turning down a side street.


    Quentin led them down that way, dodging around a stack of crates and skidded to a halt. In the alley was a group of about a dozen men and women standing in a circle, jeering and shouting. In the circle were two large lizards, four feet long and three feet tall. One of the dunewallas hissed, frills flaring and trembling as the other snapped harmlessly at it.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Quentin groaned.


    ¡°Quentin?¡± Razia said, nudging him and looking behind them. The two shirtless thugs found the alley. Seeing them, they pointed and shouted.


    ¡°Shit shit shit,¡± Quentin repeated in a mantra. One of the people around the dunewalla fight turned around. Quentin saw his opportunity and took it. ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± he said as he dashed forward again.


    The man leapt out of his way, giving them an opening. Quentin pushed past the ring of people and right among the lizards. Both of the dunewallas turned their lazy aggression at him, mouths opening wide to show a row of teeth that would be painful, if not deadly. Quentin paused long enough to reach out and backhand the nearest dunewalla before the wall of people parted for them.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°What the hell?¡±


    ¡°Oh shit, get a hold of them!¡±


    The lizard he struck went wild, gnashing and biting at anything that came close. Another set of shouts told him their pursuers weren¡¯t far behind, but they were slowed. Razia let out a peal of surprised, delighted laughter. The alley ended and once more they were back on a main road.


    The city passed by in a blur of dimly lit clay houses and the odd surprised straggler. Beside him, Razia ran her fastest to keep up with him. Every so often she lagged behind and the sound of her sandals on the sandy street would slow until Quentin tugged on her arm. Each new burst of speed was shorter than the last.


    Running felt wrong. Even knowing that it was the best option he had, he wanted to stand and fight. Even as the wound on his leg flared with pain, piercing through the generous heaps of numbing gel he¡¯d slathered onto the wound, Quentin wanted to turn and stop them and show them exactly what he thought about their attempted mugging. He ran away from the urge as much as he ran from the muggers themselves.


    ¡°Stop¡­¡± Razia eventually said, panting. Reluctantly, Quentin slowed to a stop. Though it was dark and everything was blurry, the Boulevard was just barely visible in the distance. If they could get there, there were enough people there at all hours of the night to be more or less safe. ¡°Just for a moment¡­¡±


    Razia hung on his arm, sucking in air. She shook sand and rocks from each of her sandals, wincing. Quentin turned back to where they had been, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His heart beat fast, but still controlled. ¡°You good now?¡± he asked.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia said. Her breathing was nearly back to normal. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to follow. I think you...Shit.¡±


    It was Quentin¡¯s turn to be pulled into running. He looked, and there were the two tattooed thugs coming straight for them, fresh blood on their arms and legs. The few people in the street got out of their way in a hurry. Quentin and Razia slipped down another dark alley. They were halfway to the next street when Quentin¡¯s wound flared with pain. On the next step, his leg buckled.


    Quentin threw out his hands and caught himself before he landed face first. The impact made the entire world go white.


    ¡°Quentin?¡± Razia stopped and ran back. ¡°You okay?¡± She hooked her hands under his armpits and tried tugging him to his feet.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I should be.¡± He tested his weight. Quentin crumpled, but this time Razia caught him with a surprised grunt.


    ¡°Shit,¡± she hissed, looking back where they came from. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry for this, but trust me.¡±


    ¡°Trust you? What?¡±


    Razia pulled him to the side. Quentin lurched forward on his good leg as she angled them in the tiny space between houses. Razia slipped between them and let herself tumble backwards, pulling Quentin with her. It was so narrow his shoulders scraped the walls. He landed on top of her.


    She shifted on the ground and his weight was redistributed to make their position less awkward. Razia spread his cloak out and pulled his head down into the nape of her neck. Razia made a shushing noise, but she didn¡¯t need to. Quentin was completely frozen.


    Down there, no one would see them unless they went poking around, but the pursuit was all but forgotten. Quentin was so much bigger than her, he realized. On top, he felt like he was in danger of crushing her, but if she was uncomfortable she didn¡¯t seem like it. Pressed up against him, Razia almost felt like...like she fit perfectly. Quentin swallowed hard.


    The two men ran past their hiding place without even slowing.


    Quentin opened his mouth to speak. Razia covered it and held up a finger. They said something he couldn¡¯t make out, muffled and angry sounding. They argued like that for a minute before it ended. A minute of silence later, she nodded and moved her hand.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Quentin croaked.


    Razia looked down and smiled sheepishly. ¡°I thought we could give them the slip. Looks like I was right! You worried about getting caught like this?¡± She wrapped her legs around his waist.


    ¡°Not that!¡± Quentin hissed, pulling away from her before she felt just how little he minded the position. He used the walls for leverage and climbed to one foot as she let out another warm peal of laughter. ¡°I meant sassing that jackass. What were you thinking?¡±


    ¡°Honestly? I thought I''d confuse him, get close, then kick him in the crotch and run like hell. I think we were basically on the same page.¡± Razia grinned up at him from the ground. She held her hand up.


    ¡°Or you could''ve let me give him some shards so they''d leave. You know, without trying to kill us.¡± Quentin sighed and helped her to her feet. She brushed dirt off the back of her dress. ¡°What was that about some guy and a party?¡±


    That same look of surprise and fear crossed her face, and then was gone. Razia shrugged. ¡°Oh, that. It¡¯s really not a big deal. It was a bad breakup. He humiliated me, so I got him back after. He¡¯s pissy because I hurt him worse than he hurt me. You know how it goes.¡± She pushed past Quentin and looked down the street.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t,¡± Quentin muttered. He took a step after her and the pain flared again. He sucked in a sharp breath, but didn¡¯t fall to his feet this time. He propped himself up against the nearest house as he limped forward.


    Razia turned around, looking down. ¡°Are you okay, Quentin? What happened back there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just a minor --¡±


    Razia dropped to her knees and pulled his cloak open before he could protest. She lifted the bottom of his tunic, and winced. Quentin stilled his pounding heart and saw that the cut he¡¯d stitched up was bleeding again. ¡°Oh. Is this why you wanted to just give your money up without a fight?¡±


    Quentin gently put his hand on hers and pushed it away from his thigh. He pulled his cloak closed. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s one reason,¡± he said. He helped Razia back up to her feet again.


    ¡°There were three of them. I¡¯m not sure how many fights you¡¯ve been in, but you don¡¯t want to be outnumbered. One armed person is fine. Two is rough, but doable if I¡¯m not surprised...Or injured. Three while my leg¡¯s like this? Might as well just slit my own throat and save them the trouble.¡± Quentin tested his weight on his leg. The pain returned, but his leg held. He nodded to himself. It would be enough to get home.


    Without saying a word, Razia took his arm in hers and supported some of his weight. It didn''t help much, but Quentin appreciated it. They walked in silence to the Boulevard of Saint Trassius.


    The Boulevard was one of the biggest thoroughfares in all of Orchrisus, north or south. It split the north side in half going from west to east, connecting dozens of side streets and neighborhoods. It was wide enough for the thousands of people and hundreds of beetle driven carts to walk side by side every day, with room left over for merchants¡¯ stalls to line the streets.


    The night grew brighter and the buildings bigger as they left the line of small houses. They were a few yards away when Quentin stopped. Razia looked up at him, questioning.


    ¡°This is where we should part, I think,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I don''t live too far from here, and you should be safe if you don''t go down any dark alleys. I mean, what are the odds of getting mugged twice in one night, right?¡±


    Razia''s shoulders slumped. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± she let out a nervous laugh. ¡°I''m sorry about that. If I''d known that you were hurt, I wouldn''t have provoked that guy. For what it''s worth, if I''d been alone things might have been very different. Thanks for escorting me.¡±


    To Quentin''s surprise, Razia pulled him down and gently kissed his cheek. She lingered long enough for him to feel the ghost of her lips after she pulled away. Quentin didn¡¯t know what was warmer: her smile or his face. She let out a delighted laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got pink in your face again,¡± she pointed out. Of course, that only made it worse.


    ¡°Oh piss off,¡± Quentin sighed, smiling. He pulled his hood back up. ¡°Take care of yourself, Razia, and, uh...Good luck.¡±


    He nodded to her then limped onto the Boulevard. No matter the hour, there were always people there. One more cloaked man wouldn¡¯t be noticed. In the night crowd, he could be alone in peace until he got back home for the night. Another round of numbing gel sounded good. A few days of rest and relaxation, and he would be back in shape for the next fight.


    ¡°So I was thinking,¡± Razia said as she fell into step with him, shaking Quentin from his thoughts. ¡°I owe you money, don¡¯t I? I mean, you threw some shards at that guy, and it¡¯s not right that you paid for the privilege of keeping me safe. Stands to reason that I have a debt to pay, right?¡±


    ¡°What? No.¡± Quentin stared at her. Even now she wasn¡¯t giving up. He shook his head, smiling. ¡°That was a sack of half-qala pieces. I keep it on me in case I get shaken down. He got maybe 8 qala from me. I¡¯m not going to lose sleep over that little.¡±


    Razia¡¯s eyes widened comically. ¡°Well,¡± she said, faking astonishment, ¡°check out Mr. Moneybags here! That¡¯s enough to feed me for a week. With that much, I have to pay you back. It¡¯s a matter of honor now.¡±


    Quentin stopped. She wasn¡¯t going to give up. He didn¡¯t know why, but he wasn¡¯t desperate or lonely enough to not be suspicious. Women like her didn¡¯t go for freaks like him. In all his life, only one other woman did, and that one time...He shook his head.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked once more. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of other people here and it¡¯s safer. You could have your pick of anyone. You don¡¯t owe me anything, Razia. If this is about pity, I neither need nor want it.¡± Quentin¡¯s voice came out colder than he expected, but it was a relief to get it out.


    Razia looked around. She made a big show of it, craning her head around to point at the various people who were standing around, or buying a late night meal at a stall. Her finger bounced in the air as she counted each of them off. She nodded, satisfied. Razia looked up at Quentin, fighting to keep a straight face.


    ¡°There¡¯s twenty three people right here. I can see 2 taverns and an inn. With that, I¡¯d guess that there are probably about a hundred people in spitting distance. If only half of them are men, then I¡¯d guess that there are seventy five people who I could approach. Right?¡±


    She continued without waiting for his response. ¡°Right. Out of those one hundred people, only one of them lost money and aggravated a wound in defense of my life and honor. Forget pity, Quentin. I don¡¯t do that. You seem like a good man.¡±


    A good man. Quentin couldn¡¯t have felt worse if she¡¯d just called him a moonkissed monster. Good men didn¡¯t kill people for a living, or enjoy the thrill of it. Good men didn¡¯t have to hide their face or what they did from others. He shied away from Razia.


    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m not. Thank you for the offer, but no.¡±


    He no more turned around than Razia called out again. ¡°Come on, Quentin. Let me buy you a drink or two at least. Just a drink, I promise.¡±


    Quentin hesitated. ¡°...Just a drink?¡±

 Chapter 6: The Battlemaster

    Chapter 6: The Battlemaster


    This was a bad idea. Quentin didn¡¯t go out for drinks. He bought alcohol and brought it home to drink himself into blissful oblivion in private, but going out? Where there were people to stare and judge and try to start fights? No. The last time he¡¯d tried it had been with Demetrius, and that had ended in a huge chaotic brawl and an apologetic ¡°never again¡±.


    He should¡¯ve known better, and yet here he was following Razia down the Boulevard in search of a place to share a drink. The petite Islander knew none of Quentin¡¯s misgivings. After nudging him into it, all of her focus turned to the task at hand: finding the proper place to get drunk.


    ¡°The Oasis has great drinks, but it¡¯s always a bit crowded. I think we¡¯ll avoid that one,¡± said Razia, gently dragging Quentin along by the hand. They didn¡¯t move faster than what Quentin could manage, but she was a woman on a mission. ¡°I once found a bug in my drink,¡± she pointed at a filthy clay structure. ¡°So, never again.¡±


    It was astounding, Quentin thought, how many pubs, taverns, bars, and other dens of relaxation and vice were on that wide street that he never noticed. Even now, had Razia not been pointing them out as they went, he would have missed them. All Quentin could focus on were the people still out and walking close by, and making sure his cloak was properly concealing his face.


    ¡°Ridiculous,¡± he muttered to himself. No one was watching them, and if they were, they were likely looking at Razia. Like the two Watchmen who let out a low whistle as they passed.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she replied, ¡°but I¡¯ve gotten used to it. Ooh, here!¡± Her eyes lit up.


    They stopped in front of a squat building sandwiched between two closed shops. Lanterns hung in front, illuminating the sign, ¡°Maggie¡¯s Den¡±. Beneath it, in much smaller letters were the words, ¡°No Magic Allowed¡±. The smell of tobacco and some savory meat wafted out, making Quentin¡¯s stomach suddenly growl. Soft music could be heard, inviting them in.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about this,¡± Quenin said. ¡°I appreciate you wanting to be nice, but I should g --¡±


    Razia tugged on his hand and in they went.


    Quentin braced himself for a wall of cacophonous chatter, trouble, something, but it never came. Maggie¡¯s Den was the kind of comfortably worn down place that drew regulars like shit brought flies. Inside were a couple dozen people in it, including the heavy-set matronly woman behind the bar and the stocky teenage girl plucking at a lyre. None of them even looked up. Razia led him to one of two open tables and made him sit on the bench.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she asked. ¡°Maggie brews her own beer and it¡¯s pretty decent.¡±


    ¡°Uh. Sure.¡±


    Razia beamed at him again. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, and then she was off. Quentin watched her glide around the tables, weaving around the other patrons without ever breaking her stride. Razia wasn¡¯t the only woman or even Islander in there, but the contrast of her bright yellow dress and dark skin made her stand out.


    She seemed to prefer it that way. Quentin¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t the only ones on her. As Razia passed people by, they looked up and watched her for a second or two. The burly woman behind the bar (Maggie, Quentin assumed) smiled at seeing her. Razia held up two fingers. Maggie nodded, and the two spoke.


    ¡°What the hell am I doing here?¡± Quentin groaned, burying his face in his hands.


    It still hurt sometimes, knowing that he didn¡¯t fit in. Not as much as it did years and years ago, but he dealt with it now. He buried it deep down until it was only a mild ache, one more scar among hundreds. Now that Quentin was out, he was painfully reminded that he didn¡¯t remember the last night he¡¯d spent with other people.


    Quentin looked around the room. No one else seemed to have this issue. One table over, a young man was telling a story while his date listened with an exasperated smile. One big guy let out a sudden booming, harsh laugh that made Quentin jump. There were one or two people who weren¡¯t speaking or interacting with anyone, but they looked comfortable enjoying their drinks and the ambiance. What was their secret?


    More people entered. Two men made for Quentin''s table. He froze as a bulky man sat right next to him. He slid a bit further down. The other man, slim, middle aged, and grizzled, sat across. He nodded towards Quentin and grunted. Quentin grunted back and was once more, to his relief, forgotten.


    He turned to face the stocky girl playing the music. She sat on a stool, leaned up against the wall. The song she played was slow, light, and relaxing. No one else seemed to be paying her much mind as she played. When she saw Quentin watching her, she perked up and grinned at him. She plucked a few strings and added a short burst of playful, lilting notes to her song.


    ¡°That¡¯s Andrea,¡± said Razia, setting down two mugs and a bowl of nuts. ¡°She¡¯s Maggie¡¯s daughter. Not bad, huh?¡± She sat down opposite Quentin and raised her mug.


    ¡°Yeah...¡± Quentin raised his as well. Razia clinked their mugs together, and they drank. Quentin finished half of it in one go, glad for anything to calm his nerves. He set it down on the table and stared at it in silence, unsure of what to say or do now.


    Razia had that taken care of. Just before the silence between them grew louder than the clamor of the pub, she spoke. ¡°I was asking about what you do, earlier. You know, before we got mugged. Which do you like better, working in the infirmary or training yard?¡± She sipped at her drink.


    ¡°The training yard.¡± There was no hesitation. ¡°I like setting broken bones and stitching people up, but¡­¡± Quentin shrugged, and took a sip.


    ¡°But I bet you like a good fight. I saw how you dropped that jackass. Ged dem!¡± she mimicked, pinching her nose shut.


    Quentin found himself chuckling. ¡°Yeah. When I only worked in the infirmary, they all gave me a hard time. Later, when I got used for sparring, I got to give them that hard time right back.¡±


    ¡°Is that how you got the cut on your leg?¡± Razia leaned in close. ¡°Accident during training?¡±


    ¡°I...Yeah.¡± Quentin chugged the rest of his beer. He had to buy some time. She was supposed to forget about it. No one asked him about his work. He set the mug down, panting.


    ¡°Oh damn,¡± Razia laughed, delighted. ¡°I guess you did want a drink, didn¡¯t you? Gimme a sec.¡± She got up and went back to the bar. Quentin willed his heart to stop pounding and his brain to start working.


    The man beside him nudged him in the ribs. ¡°You got her good and trained, eh? Nice.¡±


    Heat flooded Quentin¡¯s face. He looked at the man, keeping his head and hood down. ¡°No, it¡¯s not like that. She¡¯s trying to -- ¡°


    ¡°Get you drunk to take advantage of you?¡± The man let out a brash guffaw and slapped his back hard enough to shake him.


    ¡°I know her,¡± the man across from them said, scratching at his short blonde beard. ¡°You¡¯ll be broke by morning. You should run while you can. Me an¡¯ Adrian can keep her company.¡±


    Quentin eyeballed the door. There was still time. He could slip away and not have to answer any more questions or deal with the lovely people of Orchrisus at night, or their loud, braying laughter.


    Razia came back with another two mugs and stopped short. She looked between the two men near them, still laughing and very obviously ogling her. Her eyes slid over to Quentin, who was trying his best to shrink in his seat. Her grin grew slowly until her entire face lit up and made his stomach drop. She set the two mugs down in front of him and herself in his lap.


    Her arm went around his shoulders to support herself, and she very carefully balanced on his good leg. The laughing stopped. Quentin stiffened but put his arm around her back, steadying her. He kept his hand at her waist. He had a feeling she wouldn¡¯t have been opposed had it wandered, but this was already pushing his comfort.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± He whispered. This was twice in one night that she¡¯d pressed up against him, even after he¡¯d said no. It was difficult to mind too much.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± she whispered back. Louder, she said, ¡°So you got injured fighting against some gladiators. You won, right?¡±


    Quentin swallowed hard. He didn¡¯t want to answer, but now there were three people watching him intently. ¡°Yeah.¡± His voice cracked. ¡°Yeah, I won. I don¡¯t tend to lose too often. He got me good once, but I walked away and he needed help leaving.¡± That wasn¡¯t a lie, technically.


    Beside him, the man scoffed loudly. ¡°You fought some gladiators and won? You? Is that why you¡¯re wearin¡¯ a cloak inside? Afraid of them wanting a rematch?¡±


    ¡°Naw Adrian,¡± the slim man said. ¡°It¡¯s ¡®coz he¡¯s a gladiator himself. Doesn¡¯t wanna be swarmed by his adoring fans, right?¡± He burst out laughing, and Adrian joined him. Quentin took a deep breath and let it out. It was better than them being afraid of him, but not by much. He could ignore it.


    Razia, as it turned out, couldn¡¯t. ¡°Good catch! I don¡¯t want the competition. Not after the fight he had tonight.¡± She turned to face him. There was mischief in her eyes now, something wicked that seemed to thrive when he wanted nothing more than to run.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Quentin whispered.


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± The man laughed again. He elbowed Quentin in the ribs again. ¡°Who¡¯re you supposed to be, then? Gael the Great? Crazy Carlin?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Quentin said, sighing, ¡°I¡¯m --¡±


    ¡°Show some respect, Adrian! We¡¯re obviously in the presence of Fisherman Frank. You don¡¯t want to get skewered, do you?¡± The slim man tried to keep a straight face, but he cracked, spraying Quentin and Razia with spittle.


    ¡°Oh fuck off,¡± said Quentin. His fists clenched tight enough to feel his already sore knuckles crack. He willed himself to calm down, to not squeeze Razia too hard. He looked up at her, but she was surprisingly silent. Her eyes widened. His hood was pulled back.


    Quentin¡¯s head shot around at Adrian, who was no longer laughing. ¡°Oh shit, Cassius¡­¡± he said.


    One by one, other heads in the pub turned around towards him. Quentin grimaced. He knew that his expression wasn¡¯t doing him any favors. Soon, someone would start something, and he¡¯d have to fight or run.


    ¡°Gods,¡± Cassius said. ¡°You¡¯re a fucking¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say it,¡± Quentin snarled. He looked around the room. Most people were looking at him now. He felt a sharp, sudden spike of white hot anger at all of them, at himself, and at Razia. He turned towards her, wordlessly blaming her for everything. She winced.


    ¡°Maggie!¡± she called out.


    From behind the bar, the owner looked up from the mug she was cleaning. She looked right at the table. ¡°Behave,¡± she shouted. ¡°If I have to come out from behind this bar, your families will have to collect the pieces!¡±


    One by one, people turned away from Quentin and back to their drinks and conversations. He could feel their muttering more than he could hear it. It was nothing new. There was a reason why he stayed in. He let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he was holding.


    ¡°You¡¯re no gladiator,¡± Cassius said, still staring at him.


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not,¡± Razia said. She handed Quentin his mug. Grateful, he took it and downed most of it in one angry, frustrated guzzle. ¡°He¡¯s better than that. He¡¯s the Colosseum Battlemaster! No one gets a fight without first being tested by him!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Adrian gaped.


    ¡°What?¡± Cassius stared.


    ¡°What?¡± Quentin too, was puzzled.


    Razia nudged him with her elbow. She slid off of his lap and poked Adrian in his broad chest. ¡°He¡¯s the head trainer! Every single day, he pushes them to their breaking point and keeps going. How do you think they decide the matches? They have to compete to see who¡¯s worthy.¡±


    ¡°They do?¡± Adrian asked. He and his friend looked at Quentin. Razia turned to him as well. She wore a pleased smirk.


    What was the point of that? He didn¡¯t want the attention, and Razia had to know that. This was fun for her. Quentin swallowed hard. What was he going to do, say that it was a lie and run away? It was too late for that.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin said after a pause. Razia¡¯s loud proclamation was attracting attention again. ¡°Yeah. If they want a slot in the night¡¯s fights, they have to prove it to me first.¡± He fought against the flush that threatened to spoil the story.


    His eyes darted between the two of them, wondering if they would buy it or laugh it off. More than that, Quentin wondered why he was going along with it. He had nothing to prove to random Orchrisan scum. After a second, Adrian scoffed again. ¡°Prove it.¡±


    Quentin looked to Razia. Without hesitating, she moved behind him and pulled his cloak off of him. He shot up straight in his seat. He spent a few nights of the week with thousands of eyes on him, but this was like being naked. Razia put her tiny hand on one of his biceps and squeezed. ¡°You see these muscles?¡± she demanded.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Oh gods,¡± Quentin groaned. There was no way he could run now. His eyes found a spot on the table to focus on. He let Razia lift his arm up and put it on display. He even flexed, and felt a little thrill when she turned her head and her eyes widened appreciatively.


    ¡°...So what?¡± Cassius said. He pointed over to Adrian. ¡°He¡¯s got big arms too. That doesn¡¯t prove a damned thing.¡± Adrian lifted his arm and flexed helpfully.


    Quentin looked at Razia, who was already working on it. ¡°Big, sure, but impressive?¡± she shook her head. ¡°My man here could best any of you!¡±


    From the bar, Maggie leaned over and shouted, ¡°I said no fighting!¡±


    ¡°...in a contest of strength!¡± Razia amended.


    The majority of the pub were staring at them. At him. Razia had a funny way of trying to help him. Quentin wanted nothing more than to hide behind his cloak, shrink from view, and maybe slink off and never see any of these people ever again. She made that impossible. So Quentin did the only thing he could do. He set his jaw and sat perfectly still.


    Adrian looked from his arm to Quentin¡¯s. ¡°What, like arm wrestling? I don¡¯t wanna touch him. What if his curse rubs off on me?¡±


    Razia rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve been touching him all night with no problem. You won¡¯t get cursed.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re a whore,¡± Cassius said. ¡°You¡¯ll touch anyone if the price is right. Even a fucking moonkissed.¡±


    Blood rushed through Quentin¡¯s head. The world flickered, and he found himself pulling out his purse and slamming it onto the table hard enough to make people jump. Taking deep breaths, he opened it and pulled out ten polished, triangular wedges of yellow glass.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got five qala that says you¡¯ll lose. Beat me and I won¡¯t pass the curse onto you. Lose, you give me your money and you apologize to her.¡±


    ¡°No curses either!¡± Maggie shouted. ¡°By the gods, if I have to come over there...¡±


    Most of the patrons, Razia included, winced and kept their heads down. Quentin kept his glare locked on the lanky bastard across the table from him. Cassius was no longer smiling. The longer Quentin stared at him, the more he withered. Razia put her hand on Quentin¡¯s shoulder and squeezed.


    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± Cassius said. He finished his drink to cheers and cleared his side of the table.


    It all happened very fast. From Cassius fishing out shards of his own to their table being surrounded by looming onlookers, Quentin wasn¡¯t sure even half a minute passed before they were ready and people were calling out bets of their own and goading them into getting on with it.


    ¡°So, uh,¡± Razia whispered into Quentin¡¯s ear, ¡°I know you¡¯re probably not happy with me¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± A dozen people pressing in around him made him want to run away screaming, in fact.


    ¡°But this is going to work out in your favor. Just trust me.¡±


    ¡°Do I have a choice?¡± he scoffed. Quentin planted his elbow on the table, and extended his forearm. Cassius hesitated, but took it and squeezed Quentin¡¯s hand hard enough to sting. He squeezed back and smiled when Cassius let out a surprised squeak.


    There was no signal, no call for them to start. One second they were staring each other down, the next Cassius put everything he had into slamming Quentin¡¯s hand against the table. Quentin braced himself. His arm went nowhere. Cassius pushed until he was grunting and his eyes bulged and managed to move Quentin¡¯s arm an entire three inches. Quentin smiled. He pushed back, and slammed Cassius¡¯ hand against the table.


    The roar of cheers and laughter was unexpected, but familiar. Quentin looked around to see people smiling at him, even as they jeered and shoved at Cassius. Razia threw her arm around his shoulders and laughed. He reached forward and scooped up his winnings while Cassius rubbed at his wrist, glaring balefully.


    ¡°And the apology?¡±


    ¡°Fuck your apology,¡± Cassius scowled. ¡°I¡¯m not apologizing to a whore.¡±


    Quentin nodded to himself. ¡°Great Tsaba, Darkstar. I call on you. Bring your touch, your sweet kiss of --¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Cassius cried.


    Razia burst out laughing. She wasn¡¯t alone. Around him, Cassius had people playfully shoving him and teasing him. Even Quentin couldn¡¯t help but grin.


    ¡°Double or nothing,¡± Adrian growled from beside him. ¡°Anyone could beat that skinny bitch.¡± He jerked a thumb towards Cassius. ¡°I have a castura on beating you. How about it, ¡®battlemaster¡¯?¡±


    A chorus of ¡°ooooohs¡± followed. A castura would feed any of them for a week, and they would be eating well. Quentin slide his pile of qala shards to the center of the table. The ¡°ooooohs¡± grew even higher in pitch. Adrian got up and went around to the other side, shoving Cassius out of the way.


    His grip was much stronger than Cassius¡¯. Quentin matched it with enthusiasm. The crowd was on his side now, and it was him versus someone else. This was familiar. This was even comfortable if he didn¡¯t think about it too hard. He nodded to Adrian, who returned it. They started.


    Adrian was much stronger. Quentin couldn¡¯t just anchor his arm and let his opponent tire himself out before he pushed back. He put his strength into it until Adrian¡¯s hand sank with all of the inevitability of the setting sun. Dimly, Quentin heard the assembled crowd¡¯s chatter get louder and louder. Adrian¡¯s teeth were clenched. Their hands hovered inches above the table. Quentin growled and finished it.


    The pub went nuts. Quentin threw his hands into the air as they roared their approval and he drank it all in. Razia handed him his drink, and he downed it in one go. He slammed it on the table as Razia scooped the shards back towards them.


    ¡°Having fun yet?¡± Razia shouted in his ear to be heard over the clamor. She had a small, knowing smile on her face and her hand on his shoulder.


    Quentin nodded. ¡°Yeah,¡± he admitted. ¡°This isn¡¯t so bad. Hey, good match,¡± he said to Adrian.


    Adrian rubbed his wrist, glaring at Quentin. The stocky man looked like he was barely avoiding giving in to the temptation of decking him. Whether it was knowing that it would get him kicked out or because of the possibility of being cursed, Quentin didn¡¯t know, but it satisfied him more than the victory.


    ¡°Double or nothing,¡± Quentin said. He slid the pile of shards back into the center. ¡°The two of you against me. If you¡¯ve got any money left.¡±


    All sound died around them. Cassius froze as he was getting up off the bench. For a torturous eternity lasting all of ten seconds, the only sound that could be heard was Maggie at the bar, yelling for someone to bring another keg out from the back. Then all at once, the sound returned as everyone began talking at once.


    ¡°You serious?¡± ¡°Four castura?¡±


    ¡°Wait, two on one?¡±


    ¡°Quentin, are you sure about this?¡± Razia whispered in his ear. ¡°You won already. Quitting while you¡¯re ahead might be a good idea.¡±


    Quentin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, now you¡¯re suggesting restraint?¡± Razia smiled sheepishly, shrugging.


    Cassius and Adrian whispered to each other. Then Adrian nodded. ¡°How would we even do this? One of us on each arm?¡± Cassius asked.


    ¡°What? No, like¡­¡± Quentin faltered. He gestured to the two of them. ¡°Like the two of you working together to...One hand on the others¡¯, you know?¡±


    They looked at each other. ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± said Adrian.


    Others seemed to agree. A few people snickered, but more turned away, sure that their temporary entertainment was done for the night. Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted. That probably meant he could go back to having some quiet, but there went the temporary respect he¡¯d earned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Quentin,¡± Razia said, loud enough to be heard. ¡°You won, and they¡¯re too scared to keep going. I¡¯m honestly surprised that one challenged you in the first place.¡± She jerked her thumb towards Adrian. ¡°My friend Mel says he¡¯s not much of a man, if you know what I mean,¡± she stage whispered.


    In a flash, Adrian had another handful of yellow glass shards out and slammed on the table. ¡°The hell I¡¯m not. Mel¡¯s a fucking liar, and a dry, used up bag! When we win, hows about I prove it, whore?¡±


    ¡°Adrian¡­¡± Cassius warned, eyeballing Quentin warily. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t antagonize him.¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re fucking doing this.¡± He grabbed Cassius by the front of his tunic and pulled him back down into his seat. ¡°Get out your money. We¡¯re doing this.¡±


    Cassius reluctantly pulled out some shards of his own and slid them across the table. Quentin pulled out another castura piece and added it to the pile. He smiled at Razia, who rolled her eyes at him but squeezed his shoulder once more. Quentin planted his elbow on the table, hand out. Adrian nudged Cassius, who put his hand in Quentin¡¯s. Adrian put his hand over Cassius¡¯.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Razia called out, seizing the pub¡¯s wavering audience. ¡°This is it. For four full castura and the title of Maggie¡¯s Strongest Drunk! Gentlemen...Begin!¡±


    Razia¡¯s announcement caught Quentin by surprise. His opponents started immediately on her cue and nearly beat him in an instant. He caught himself at the last second and pushed, stopping his hand just three inches shy of the table. The way his opponents were positioned close together may have looked stupid, but it worked. Their joined hands wavered there. He bought another three inches. They were almost back to their starting position when Quentin began to waver.


    Quentin grunted, putting everything he had into it. His wrist ached. His arm ached. Alone, either of them weren¡¯t much, but together they slowly forced his hand lower and lower. Quentin¡¯s heart thundered in his head. They were two inches away now. He was going to lose. He had nothing left to give, and it wasn¡¯t enough.


    Their push faltered. Just for an instant, but it was all Quentin needed to push back and slam their hands down against the table with a triumphant roar. His arm throbbed, but he still punched the air. To his surprise, rather than the cheers from before, the bar erupted with laughter and sharp whistles. Everyone except his opponents were laughing hard enough to need to hold each other up, while his opponents looked ready to kill.


    ¡°That¡¯s cheap! That¡¯s cheating, you filthy, no good, piece of shit¡­¡±


    Quentin¡¯s blood ran cold. He looked around. They couldn¡¯t have been talking to him, could they? He turned to Razia in time to catch her pulling the front of her dress back up.


    ¡°What?¡± he gaped at her. ¡°Did you just¡­?¡±


    She shrugged, failing to stifle a wicked grin. ¡°Congrats on the win! I¡¯d say you owe me a drink.¡±


    ¡°No, this is a load of shit,¡± Adrian yelled, loud enough to silence everyone else. He jumped to his feet. His hand went to the knife on his belt, but he didn¡¯t pull it just yet. ¡°You¡¯re not getting a godsdamned thing from me.¡±


    The people crowding around the table backed away. Maggie stepped out from behind the bar, jaw set but not saying anything. Drunk patrons causing trouble was one thing, someone getting ready to pull out a weapon was another. Cassius put his hand on Adrian¡¯s arm, but the stocky man shrugged him off.


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Quentin stared at that knife. If he went for his own, Adrian would jump him. If he got up or moved, that would be enough reason for the man to jump him. It would be just his luck, winning a fight to the death and escaping armed muggers only to die over a stupid argument in a bar. Razia stepped in.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been such a good sport up until now,¡± she said, as chipper sounding as before. ¡°You¡¯re a worthy match for the battlemaster here. That¡¯s why, in honor of his victory, a bottle of Maggie¡¯s finest to you and your friend. On your new friend¡¯s tab, of course!¡±


    Adrian stared her down, huffing with barely concealed rage. His dark eyes flitted between her and Quentin, as if trying to decide which of them was worth stabbing.


    ¡°Anything Maggie has,¡± said Razia. ¡°Your choice. As a thank you for the great matches.¡±


    He looked around at everyone else, watching him and waiting to see whether there¡¯d be blood or not. He snorted, and sat back down. ¡°Fine. Make it a bottle of Salucci¡¯s. Two,¡± he added, after a nudge from Cassius.


    Razia looked to Maggie, who nodded and disappeared behind the counter. ¡°You got it. And you know what? A round of drinks for everyone else as well!¡± The pub erupted with cheers.


    Razia sat back down next to Quentin, who was gaping at her openly. ¡°What?¡± She asked, scooping his winnings back towards them.


    ¡°What happened to restraint?¡±


    Razia shrugged. ¡°Turns out I¡¯m not so great at it. By the way, you may end up losing all your winnings after this.¡±


    Quentin snorted. Of course he would.


    After that, everyone was his friend. Andrea picked her lyre back up and struck up a lively tune. It wasn¡¯t long before the first person came up to Quentin to ask him about the Colosseum and the gladiators themselves. They were followed by two more. Razia slipped away for more drinks, but Quentin hardly noticed.


    It was, he reflected, the one thing he could probably talk about for hours. The other gladiators may have only tolerated him, but he loved everything about what they did and he was not shy about saying so. From the different fighters to matches of the past, Quentin forgot himself as he gushed and people eagerly listened. If anyone realized that winning at arm wrestling didn¡¯t prove that he worked at the colosseum, his wealth of stories backed him up.


    The alcohol helped. Whenever his drink was even close to empty, Razia set another one in front of him. Four or five drinks in, and the rest of the night blurred together. Quentin was dimly aware of people leaving the pub and new people sitting next to him, but there was no further trouble.


    Before he knew it, most of the money he¡¯d won was gone. When there was only a small handful of shards left, Razia helped him to his feet and out the door. Quentin¡¯s heart soared with the calls of goodnight as he left. That was new.


    The night air was blessedly cool on his skin, after a few hours of being in a hot, crowded pub. Quentin staggered forward, closing his eyes and breathing it in. ¡°This was a good night,¡± he said, to no one in particular.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± Razia said. She threw his cloak around his shoulders. ¡°It was nice seeing you animated and, you know, not timid.¡± He took it from her and haltingly put his arms through the holes and the hood up. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds before giving up, swaying in place.


    She fixed the clasp for him, and kept her hand on it. She looked up at his concealed face, looking amused. Razia had a nice face for smiling, Quentin thought with a sloppy grin.


    ¡°You know,¡± Razia said, ¡°it doesn¡¯t have to be over just yet.¡± The corners of her lips twitched, and Quentin was even dizzier than before.


    He put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself. The rest of the world was spinning pleasantly, but Razia was steady. Razia was, he decided, fun. Even the trouble she seemed to bring was fun. Quentin thought back to the alleyway, and how she¡¯d pulled him on top of her. How soft she was, how inviting. His throat tightened. ¡°Yeah?¡± he asked, wetting his lips.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia said. Her hands slid up his chest, around his shoulders and stayed there. She was practically hanging off of him, but not once did it strike Quentin, even through his drunk haze, like she was doing him a favor. ¡°Just say the word and we¡¯ll go back to your place.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Quentin asked.


    ¡°Just like that.¡±


    It was tempting. Gods knew that she was the only woman who¡¯d shown him even a hint of interest in the past eighteen years. She was lovely. He¡¯d never seen a woman with a shaved head, but it suited her. It was exciting. She was exciting. He wanted it, he decided. Even if it meant that she would see all of him. He¡¯d do it.


    Quentin took his hands off of her shoulders. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he said, hating himself for it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re...You¡¯re pretty, but,¡± he started.


    ¡°Just pretty?¡± she said, letting out a short, throaty laugh.


    ¡°Oh come on,¡± he sighed. ¡°I...can¡¯t. Okay?¡± He gently put his hands on hers and pulled them away from him.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Razia said evenly. ¡°I won¡¯t push. But if you see me around, you know the offer¡¯s open, right?¡±


    Quentin nodded, a crooked smile on his face. She made to leave. Quentin blurted out, ¡°Seriously. Why me? I¡¯m not complaining, but...why? Give me a real answer.¡±


    Razia tilted her head to the side, considering him. She let out a deep breath. ¡°I like what I do,¡± she said. ¡°A lot. I came to Orchrisus for a reason. I wanted to be a priestess of the Pierced Heart. Sounds perfect, right? A whore, serving the deity of passion and art. I heard the priests and priestesses actually are respected for what they do.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she shook her head. ¡°I got turned away. That doesn¡¯t change anything. I love what I do. I see lonely, hurt people and I have something I can offer them. I can give them companionship for a time. Everyone deserves warmth and affection.¡±


    She tugged the front of his cloak. Quentin leaned forward. Razia¡¯s lips brushed where his cheek met his ear.


    ¡°Even the Butcher.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s blood turned to ice. Razia planted a kiss on his cheek and walked away. Numb, he watched her walk down the Boulevard. Every instinct screamed for him to go after her, to demand how she knew, to find out what she was going to do with that info.


    He stood there frozen until long after she was out of sight.

 Chapter 7: Bigger Fish

    Chapter 7: Bigger Fish


    Philus was not having a very good night.


    It wasn¡¯t the worst night of his life or even in the bottom ten, but the night was still young. Constant aching throbs radiated from his nose and eyes. The bleeding stopped finally, but now his brain felt like it was stuffed up and would leak out his eyes and ears. Every source of light he passed made it worse, but not half as bad as his friends did.


    ¡°¡®Get dem¡¯,¡± Gregor mocked under his breath, several feet behind him, where he thought Philus wouldn¡¯t hear him.


    Philus whirled around on Gregor and Markus, hand on his knife. ¡°You think that¡¯s funny? He suckerpunched me. He got a lucky hit in, that¡¯s it. What about you, maggot? All you had to do was chase after a cloaked man and a bald whore. Where are they, Gregor? What¡¯s your excuse?¡±


    Markus stepped forward, raising his hands placatingly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t our fault. They gave us the slip near the Boulevard. We got bit up by some fucking dunewallas chasing after them!¡± He held up an arm covered in tiny red marks, where needle-like teeth had latched on and tore at him.


    ¡°You think we should¡¯ve gone there and made a fuss? We saw two coppers. It was either turn back, or take our chances.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Gregor chimed in. ¡°You want we should get sent to the Mirage for hard labor, or get skewered by the Butcher? I love you brother, but I don¡¯t love you that much.¡±


    Philus took a deep, long suffering breath. This wasn¡¯t anything new. They¡¯d been rehashing this for the past hour or so, a little different every time. They wanted to just go back to their neighborhood and see if they could scare up a few shards for enough booze to make up for the embarrassment. Just turn back and forget it ever happened.


    That¡¯s why Philus was the leader, and not them. They had no vision, and no awareness outside their own miniscule territory. Orchrisus was a huge, sprawling city. No one was going to fight them for the outskirts, but they weren¡¯t going to get very far that way either. This was their chance to make a splash, to grow and be somebodies.


    ¡°Just...Shut up and follow me. We¡¯re almost at the bridge.¡± Philus turned around and led them south. Gregor and Markus obediently followed, thankfully silent.


    They mostly stuck to the side streets and back alleys, as was their way. It wasn¡¯t unusual to walk around Orchrisus in just trousers and shoes, but their matching tattoos and curved blades made it clear to anyone who saw them that they weren¡¯t out for a pleasant midnight stroll. They were proud street scum, and their tattoos proclaimed their stories.


    One for their country. Philus and Markus both proudly displayed the Orchrisus flower on their backs, while Gregor had the fiery Finsk sun on his. One for their neighborhood on their dominant arm, a string of letters and numbers showing who they represented and what territory they would fight to the death for. One day, those tattoos would expand and spread over all of their arms and onto their backs. The mark of their chosen god lay on the center of their chest. Markus and Gregor wore the Warcaller¡¯s lightning wreathed fist, surrounded by little diamonds for each important battle they¡¯d won. Philus had the Wanderer¡¯s segmented coin. Each diamond of his own was another score, a job well done that earned them the money to keep going, to keep growing.


    Any other night, Philus and his boys would be proud to show who they were and dare anyone to challenge them. A good scrap would cheer them up, and they could always use more diamonds on their chest and shards in their pockets. Tonight they didn¡¯t want any attention from the Watch, and they certainly couldn¡¯t afford a scrap with even a couple of wannabe toughs. No, heading to the south side was already dangerous for men like them.


    They exited the last alley on the north side of the river and stepped onto the near blinding light of North River Row. While not as busy or populated as the Boulevard of Saint Trassius, it was nevertheless one of the few parts of Orchrisus that truly never slept. Inns and shops huddled together and stayed brightly lit, regardless of the hour. Their light was a beacon for anyone crossing the wide river.


    ¡°How are we doing this, Phil?¡± Markus asked. ¡°We¡¯re taking a ferry, right?¡± He stepped past his leader and stared out over the river. A mile away, he could barely see the lights of South River Row twinkling off the river. Everything in between was an inky void, save for the mirror image of the moon on the moving water below.


    ¡°You got the money for that?¡± Philus scoffed. ¡°No, we¡¯re going to have to walk it. Stick together, and keep your heads down, boys. We don¡¯t want any trouble when we¡¯re on the other side. Seriously. If someone gives you shit, ignore them. Under no circumstances are we to get in any fights.¡±


    Gregor scowled. His scowls were the type that got people to hand over bags of shards and get as far away from him as possible. ¡°Why are we even doing this? Why walk to the ass-end of town over this shit? Let¡¯s just go home. We won¡¯t tell anyone that you got stomped down. We can pretend this never happened.¡±


    Markus put his hand on Gregor¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± He shot a pleading look to Philus, but it was too late.


    Philus closed the distance and shoved the larger man hard enough to force him back a step. ¡°This isn¡¯t about my pride, you beetle-brained sack of shit. This is about shards. Do you have any idea who that was? Oh no, you wouldn¡¯t, would you? You¡¯re happy being a scavenger.¡± He shoved again. Gregor stumbled back into a stack of crates.


    ¡°Guys¡­¡± Markus warned, looking around. North River Row was never empty, and they had several people watching them from a distance.


    ¡°You better stop pushing me,¡± Gregor growled. His hand went to his knife, but he didn¡¯t draw it. Not yet. There were some things you couldn¡¯t undo, and even a thick bastard like Gregor knew that.


    ¡°Then get your head out your ass and listen to me, brother,¡± Philus hissed. ¡°That was Razia Rashid.¡±


    Gregor blinked. He looked to Markus, who shrugged. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Philus sighed, ¡°she¡¯s wanted. One of the bigger gang heads down south is pissed at her. I was seeing that Mooran woman a couple months ago and she got me into a private party. One filled with distinguished bosses and their men, you understand? People who hold more than just one street.¡±


    He looked meaningfully at his boys. Markus was, as usual, intrigued and would wait until he was done before he gave Philus any trouble. Gregor was listening now, though the gods only knew how long that would last before his focus vanished and he went right back to complaining. Philus continued.


    ¡°These were the real deal, lads. Big enough to see each other as equals and not fight over scraps. Can you picture that? Fountains of booze flowing, and there was only one fight that night. And that one fight involved that bald whore.


    ¡°I dunno why it happened or what she did, but one of the bigger gang bosses had it out with her in front of everyone and she left. My woman told me that a week later, she robbed him and ran, and people were looking for her. Now, think about it. If she robbed any of us, would we let her live?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Gregor muttered sullenly.


    ¡°If some dumb bitch thought she could cross us, what would we do about it?¡± Philus asked.


    It was Markus who answered. ¡°We¡¯d work her over,¡± he said, giving a crooked smile. He knew the score. ¡°By the time we were done, she¡¯d be begging for death. And if we couldn¡¯t find her, we¡¯d pay for the privilege.¡±


    Philus nodded at him. ¡°Exactly right, brother. And this boss, this Piro Pentius? He can pay, Gregor. He can pay well. So we¡¯re not gonna go home and forget about it. We¡¯re going to find him, tell him we saw her, and see how much that¡¯s worth. Any questions?¡±


    Gregor shook his head. Markus signaled that he did.


    ¡°Yeah. Why the hell were you going ¡®round with a woman on the south side?¡± Markus asked, making a face. ¡°That¡¯s like a six hour round trip.¡±


    ¡°You ever had Mooran pussy?¡± He waggled his eyebrows. ¡°Feels like she¡¯s trying to break it off. Worth the commute. If you can walk after.¡±


    Markus snickered. Gregor chortled. A second later, they were all laughing and the tension was forgotten. Philus could always count on his boys when it mattered.


    They made their way to the bridge. People moved out of their way as they passed, often looking away. Orchrisus at night belonged to the predators, and the prey knew to keep well out of the way. Gregor leered at a pretty young woman as they passed, but didn¡¯t follow through. Any trouble would slow them down.


    The bridge was a good 30 feet wide and just over a mile long. Not counting the couple of scattered islands in the middle of the river, it was the narrowest part. Thousands of people crossed it every day without issue. It was their bad luck that three copper-badged Watchmen stood at the base of it, talking with one another and occasionally scrutinizing the people passing by. Philus stopped short.


    ¡°Aw hell,¡± Markus groaned. ¡°You sure we can¡¯t take a ferry, Phil?¡±


    Philus shook his head. ¡°At this hour, if any are still running they¡¯ll bleed us dry. And we still gotta get back.¡±


    Gregor tapped him on the shoulder. Philus followed his finger over to where a beetle cart was stopped. ¡°Good thinking,¡± he said.


    ¡°How much to get the three of us across the bridge and near Guilderlane?¡± Philus asked the driver, leaning against the cart.


    The driver was a shriveled, stooped man chewing tobacco. He looked over the three of them appraisingly. He spat to the side. ¡°Three qala.¡±


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Gregor gaped. ¡°You¡¯d be lucky to get that much for a full cart. There¡¯s only three of us!¡±


    ¡°Nng.¡± The driver grunted. His eyes flickered between the three of them, lingering on their tattoos. ¡°Four qala.¡±


    Markus slapped his hand over Gregor¡¯s mouth just in time to block a string of profanities and threats. Philus took a deep breath.


    ¡°You drive a hard bargain sir,¡± he said through clenched teeth. ¡°We happily accept.¡±


    The coppers didn¡¯t spare them more than half a glance as the cart drove by. Half of their earnings for the night were gone. Philus¡¯ nose throbbed with a dull ache. It would be worth it, he decided. It had to be.


    Traveling by beetle wasn¡¯t any faster than if they were walking themselves, but it was constant. The lumbering beast didn¡¯t stop, didn¡¯t jerk around or misbehave. The worst it did was occasionally let out a series of loud clicks, to which the driver would respond with affectionate shushes and the occasional pat on its carapace. The cart got them off their feet for twenty minutes, and gave Philus time to think.


    Despite being ostensibly the same city, south Orchrisus felt different. The buildings on the south side were crammed against each other, and they tended to be taller. Most buildings remained two stories, but it wasn¡¯t out of the question to see massive, sturdy stone structures that towered over everything at a whopping five floors.


    The people were a bit richer on average this close to the temple district, the palace, and Guilderlane itself. Down here, the people prided themselves on how far back their families and money went. Philus and his boys, they were adept at picking out those who didn¡¯t belong and were easy targets. The people here didn¡¯t have to look to know.


    When the old driver let them off a block away from Guilerlane, it took all of ten seconds for Philus to remember why he didn¡¯t come down here too often. Down here, the gangs didn¡¯t walk around shirtless and go looking for fights. For the first time in months, Philus was struck with a desire to cover up.


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    ¡°So, now what?¡± Gregor asked, looking around. Far fewer people walked the streets this late here. The ones who did met his gaze and didn¡¯t look away. He turned back to Philus.


    ¡°Well,¡± their fearless leader started, ¡°we uh...I guess we ask for directions. Maybe hit up a pub and see if we can find someone who can introduce us. This should be Piro¡¯s territory.¡±


    ¡°What about that girl of yours?¡± said Markus. ¡°Is she anywhere close?¡±


    Philus winced. ¡°Things...ended shortly after that party. Probably best we don¡¯t look for her,¡± he said. ¡°C¡¯mon. Let¡¯s take a walk and see what we find.¡±


    That walk didn¡¯t take long. They hadn¡¯t even made it all the way down the street to Guilderlane when four men emerged from the shadows and blocked their path. They were dressed casually, in dark tunics that blended in with their surroundings and offered easy movement. They wore proper metal knives openly.


    Philus held back his boys and cleared his throat. ¡°Evenin¡¯. We¡¯re not here to cause any trouble, we¡¯re looking for --¡±


    ¡°You found trouble anyhow,¡± said a grizzled man with silver in his shaggy beard. He stared down the trio with his arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Guilderlane is off limits. Why don¡¯t you turn around? You¡®re already looking a bit rough. Let¡¯s not make it worse.¡±


    ¡°Phil¡­¡± Markus whispered, tugging at his belt. Philus shrugged him off.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to speak with Piro Pentius,¡± he said, slowly and evenly. ¡°We¡¯ve got info he¡¯d want to know.¡±


    For a second, none of the four men said a word. They waited for their leader to handle it, it seemed. Were the situations reversed, Philus was sure that Gregor or Markus would¡¯ve opened their mouths and spat something stupid and insulting. Silverbeard had them trained. He let out a low, humorless chuckle.


    ¡°He¡¯s not in the habit of seeing gutter trash. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from. This is your last warning. Leave Guilderlane or we¡¯ll dump your bodies in the river.¡±


    Gregor stepped past Philus. ¡°Look ass-jackal, we¡¯re here to do him a favor, why don¡¯t you just¡­¡± He trailed off as all four of them drew their knives. From above, a man peeked over the rooftop and aimed a bolter at them.


    ¡°On second thought,¡± said Philus, ¡°I think we¡¯ll be going. Thank you for your time.¡±


    He grabbed Gregor by the arm and dragged him away, taking long, quick strides to put as much distance between them as possible. Markus had to jog to keep up.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Gregor demanded. ¡°You just going to let them scare us off? We going home, then?¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Gregor,¡± Markus warned. ¡°We¡¯re not here to pick fights. There are other places we can go. Right Philus?¡±


    Philus didn¡¯t answer immediately. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they were in over their head and should just go back and call the night a wash. But if he did, Gregor would never let him hear the end of it. It might take some time, but eventually Markus would give him shit for it too. No, this was the right thing to do. He just needed to start with smaller fish.


    ¡°Right,¡± Philus said. ¡°Follow me, and keep quiet. If anyone tries to start shit, ignore them. We¡¯ll get our satisfaction later.¡±


    They traveled parallel to Guilderlane, heading east, where the prosperity faded to a more familiar, comfortable kind of run down. Long, winding streets led them away from the towering buildings with their rooftop gardens and painted murals.As they walked, Philus was haunted by the feeling of being watched and followed. Every so often he could see a shadow on the rooftops, but they weren¡¯t bothered again until they found another pack of fellow predators, loitering in a dark doorway.


    ¡°Do you know where we can find Piro Pentius?¡± Philus asked.


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± this group said.


    They continued on to a run down little inn, bereft of people in the common room. The man at the front eyed them balefully, giving every impression that they weren¡¯t welcome.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got important info for Piro Pentius,¡± Philus tried.


    The man at the front scoffed. ¡°Then why are you here? He¡¯s got a shop over on Guilderlane.¡±


    After an hour of walking and trying every possible lead, their feet were sore, the cool spring night had turned downright chilly, and Gregor and Markus were conversing silently via a series of looks Philus disliked and distrusted. He knew what was coming when Markus opened his mouth.


    ¡°Phil,¡± he started, wetting his lips nervously.


    ¡°Don¡¯t start,¡± Philus growled. ¡°We¡¯ve come too far. We¡¯re not going home until we get this info to Piro and see what he¡¯s willing to pay for this.¡±


    ¡°Fat lot of good that¡¯s done us so far, yeah?¡± Markus shot back. ¡°I¡¯m tired, I¡¯m hungry, and you already got fucked up once. We gonna keep going until one of these bastards decides we¡¯re worth the trouble? Just accept it. We¡¯re not talking to Piro.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± a high pitched, youthful voice said.


    They whirled around, knives out, to see a boy of maybe 12 sitting against a house. He had a mess of unruly, dusty hair and scrapes on his knees and cheeks. He didn¡¯t look too alarmed at the threat of impending stabbing. ¡°Not running around like this. You¡¯re new to this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Gregor growled and took a step forward. Philus shoved him back. He sized the kid up. ¡°You got anything for us, or do you want a beating that badly?¡±


    The kid stood up slowly. ¡°That depends. I can¡¯t get you to see Piro, but if you¡¯ve got the shards, I can hook you up with the next best thing.¡±


    Philus and Markus shared a look, silently conferring. ¡°How much?¡± Philus asked.


    Ten minutes more of walking through increasingly rough neighborhoods later, Philus was ready to call it all off and go crawling back home. No one bothered them as the scrawny street urchin led them around. As they moved deeper into the dark heart of the southern slums, an oppressive silence filled the night. No one was laughing, joking, or even fighting with each other. They seemed ever vigilant, watching and waiting. Philus was beginning to believe that the kid was the only thing keeping the cold, hungry creatures from descending on them. He shuddered.


    ¡°Here,¡± the kid said, leading them around the corner to a dead end. In that nook in the darkest part of Orchrisus was the ruined remains of a house. The roof was in shambles and looked like one decent storm away from caving in entirely. The windows were broken, shutters barely hanging on. The door was open and hanging on its hinges, but it was black inside.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Markus gaped. ¡°Is this where you take gullible idiots to kill them after you get their shards? Phil, if we die, I want you to know that I told you so.¡±


    The kid threw up his hands placatingly. ¡°Easy, easy. I¡¯m no rat. You paid for a connection, you get one. Gimme a sec.¡± He ran up to the door and called into it. ¡°I got three northern lads here to see Christophe. They say they got info to pass on to Piro.¡±


    There was a moment of silence before the kid nodded. He gestured to the open door.


    Gregor and Markus looked at Philus. He sighed and took the lead. It was only right. They were his boys, and of them should risk dying first, it should be him. He gave the kid one last look on his way in. The kid¡¯s shit eating grin made his blood run cold. This was a mistake.


    Nothing happened. Philus passed the threshold and nothing happened, save that he could see that the house was in much better condition on the inside. A wall had been constructed near the door to block off any sign of life inside. Two armed men ushered them in further, not allowing them to turn back or hesitate. On the other side of the wall was a table, the remains of an interrupted game of cards, and the largest man Philus had ever seen.


    Hunched over the splintery wooden table, he was still taller than Markus and nearly as tall as Philus. He was over two feet wide, and solid. He looked up from the cards he was holding and got a look at the people interrupting his game. His head was too small, Philus thought to himself, stifling a nervous, frantic laugh. The rest of him was so astoundingly huge that his head seemed too small, even with the bushy, unkempt beard and wild hair.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Gregor whispered. ¡°I know you. You¡¯re the leader of the Warlords. You¡¯re wanted! There¡¯s a huge bounty on your head.¡±


    Philus¡¯ head whipped around towards him, eyes widening. Behind them, the armed guards pulled out swords. Not knives like theirs, but full-on swords, pointed right at them.


    ¡°Gregor,¡± he groaned. ¡°You idiot.¡±


    The massive man, Christophe, got to his feet. If he were half a foot taller, his head would¡¯ve scraped the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how it works up in your neighborhood,¡± he said, in a voice that was equally amused and menacing, ¡°but I somehow don¡¯t think it involves coming to a man¡¯s home and asking to be stabbed to death. If that¡¯s what you want, we¡¯re happy to oblige. If not, might I recommend starting over?¡±


    Philus jumped on his chance. ¡°My apologies. My friend has a case of the stupids. He opens his mouth, and dumb shit falls out. I¡¯ve been meaning to take him to get help for it.¡±


    Christophe¡¯s small, dark eyes bored a hole into him. He smiled, or at least Philus hoped that his beard twitching where his mouth should have been was a smile. ¡°A terminal case, potentially. Everyone gets one. Trevor said that you have info?¡± He gestured towards the rickety table with an arm the size of a keg.


    Philus and Markus sat down. Gregor stayed standing behind them, trying his best to ignore the two men with weapons still drawn on them. Philus took a deep breath and began.


    ¡°Tonight, me and my boys were working near the Colosseum. Watching people, finding good marks and --¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯re petty muggers and you were skipping ahead to the part that¡¯s relevant to me.¡± Christophe took a drink from his mug, motioning for Philus to get on with it.


    ¡°We saw Razia Rashid,¡± Markus interjected. ¡°Just south of the Colosseum.¡±


    Christophe froze mid-drink. He set the mug down and swallowed hard. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Philus nodded.


    ¡°And where is she now?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s...She gave us the slip,¡± Philus admitted. ¡°I hadn¡¯t heard anything about her in a couple weeks, but if she¡¯s out walking around, Piro probably still wants her. I figured that info¡¯s gotta be worth something, yeah?¡± He looked around to his boys, nodding. Gregor nodded back, but Markus shrank in his seat. ¡°Maybe you can pass the info along to Piro, and we can get a finder¡¯s fee.¡±


    Christophe took a long suffering deep breath. He leaned forward. The table groaned in distress. ¡°What a fantastic idea. You come in, insult me twice, and then want me to pay you for the privilege.¡±


    His tone was friendly, but the way Christophe smiled at him made Philus¡¯ testicles want to climb up inside his body. ¡°We insulted you twice?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh yes, twice. The first one was forgiven immediately. That¡¯s just the kind of man I am, you know. Gracious to a fault.¡± Christophe¡¯s fingers twitched.


    The next thing Philus knew, Christophe slapped the table to the side of the room like it was nothing. His hand shot forward and closed around Philus¡¯ throat. Christophe lifted him into the air while Philus grabbed at his hand, trying to pry the fingers off.


    ¡°I am not Piro¡¯s fucking errand boy!¡± Christophe snarled.


    Gregor reached for his boss. Christophe¡¯s men raised their swords and he backed up into the corner.


    ¡°You come into my part of town, my house, and you treat me like a stepping stone? You bring me nothing and you want me to pay you for the privilege of bringing this to the attention of my business partner?¡±


    Christophe squeezed. Philus¡¯ eyes bulged. He twisted and flailed in Christophe¡¯s iron grip, but it got harder by the second.


    ¡°We can find her for you,¡± Markus cried out. ¡°We can bring her here for you!¡±


    Philus dropped to the ground. He sucked in a breath and choked on it, coughing and hacking as his body continued panicking. Markus dropped to a knee beside him. Philus waved him off.


    Christophe motioned for Markus to continue.


    ¡°We know that part of town, sir. If she¡¯s still around, then she thinks no one¡¯s after her, right?¡± Markus looked around frantically, desperate for someone to acknowledge his logic. ¡°So we find her for you, we bring her here. That¡¯s gotta be worth a good payday, right?¡±


    That was worth his consideration, it seemed. Christophe snapped and pointed. One of his men sheathed his sword and put the table back into position. The other got a bottle and a fresh mug and poured it for him. Christophe sat back down on his two stools.


    ¡°Yes, that sounds reasonable,¡± Christophe said, pausing to take a drink. ¡°Bring her to me, alive, and I¡¯ll pay forty aquilos. Twenty if she¡¯s dead, but I would really prefer it if she was alive. That would go a long way as an apology, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Philus choked out. ¡°We can do that, sir. No problem.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s much better.¡± Christophe¡¯s hand shot forward once more. Philus and his boys flinched before realizing it was open. Philus took it and clenched his teeth to avoid yelping at the tight grip. ¡°Do yourselves a favor, gentlemen. Don¡¯t come back to my side of town without her.¡±


    Two minutes later, they were out the door and all but running with their heads down. The boy, Trevor, led them back to the main road and left them there.


    ¡°Are we really going to just let him push us around and threaten us like that?¡± Gregor said as soon as he was confident they were out of earshot.


    ¡°I really didn¡¯t see you doing anything about it at the time,¡± Markus shot back. ¡°You still have the chance. If you want to go back and pick a fight with a deranged giant. I¡¯ll be right behind you. I promise.¡±


    Philus raised a hand, and they shut up. ¡°We got out alive, and we have a job to do. Forget...All of this, and just focus on the shards.¡±


    ¡°It is a lot,¡± Markus admitted. 40 aquilos was more than any of them saw in a year. It was enough to get them properly outfitted, get some fresh blood, let them make a move and expand their neighborhood, and still have enough to throw one hell of a party, celebrating their victory.


    ¡°There we go. We do something this big, we¡¯ll get noticed. We¡¯ll build up and¡­¡± Philus looked around. None of the dark, half-hidden faces were watching them that he could see. ¡°We¡¯ll pay him back for this, brothers. Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± they echoed.


    This really wasn¡¯t his night, Philus thought as they walked away from that neighborhood and back towards a safer, more hospitable hunting ground. He wouldn¡¯t ever admit it to Markus or Gregor, but maybe they were in over their heads on this one.

 Chapter 8: The Hungry City

    Part 2: The Damsel of Distress


    Chapter 8: The Hungry City


    An hour after midday, Quentin Quintius went from a deep, peaceful slumber to his eyes shooting wide open with a surge of uncomfortable energy.


    She knows.


    The bliss of a dead, dreamless sleep after a night of drinking evaporated. Flashes of the night before bounced around Quentin¡¯s head, picking up speed until they blurred together. The executions, Razia, the chase, and the bar. Her lips against his cheek, breath tickling his ear. Everyone deserves warmth and affection...Even the Butcher.


    Quentin sat straight up in his bed, panting.


    She knows.


    And Razia wanted him to know. Why else would she tell him? Quentin ground his teeth together, willing his heart to slow down. Did she know right from the start? Was this just another game to her? How long was she toying with him? Quentin closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.


    In and out, slowly. His fingers buried themselves into the plush bed beneath him. His toes curled and uncurled, settling down on the cool tile below. He breathed in the warm smell of heated dust and the garden outside. When he opened his eyes, he looked around his room.


    There was the bookshelf, filled beyond capacity with books of various sizes and states of repair. Quentin¡¯s cloak and knife hung on the wall next to his bed. Below those was a sturdy metal chest with his current book and an extinguished lamp on top of it, and a simple desk beside that. Two tapestries of Colosseum bouts, scavenged before they were thrown away. There wasn¡¯t much, but it was his. Quentin breathed in and out and the pieces of his life soothed the panic away.


    She knows.


    The words echoed in his head, but less urgent. It was good enough for now. The world wasn¡¯t going to end. His door wasn¡¯t going to be broken down by the families and friends of people Quentin put to death. He was safe in his bed, in his house, in his private neighborhood. There was no one but him, and that¡¯s how it was. Solitude was his greatest armor.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with this,¡± he announced, standing. ¡°It¡¯s okay. This is fine.¡± He exited his room.


    The sun beat down on the house, but never fully broke through. It was of the open style of old, wealthy Orchrisian family homes, right down to the big, open atrium and pool of water underneath the skylight. It was a large house, meant to be filled. There was room enough for a trophy wife, spoiled children, and even servants and staff to live in comfort. Most of his neighbors even ran businesses out of their homes, using the rooms that opened to the street. Quentin bought it a long time ago, back when he thought money could buy him respectability. He didn¡¯t use more than three rooms.


    Quentin took his time with his morning routine. He watered the plants, checked for bills or notices at the gate, and put breakfast in the cooking pot. He looked over his wound. The post-fight excitement hadn¡¯t done him any favors. Quentin cleaned the cut and rubbed a mild pain relieving salve over it. The light stinging was gone by the time his oatmeal was ready.


    He ate his breakfast on a couch in the atrium. Sunlight shone on the pool beneath it, close enough to touch but far enough to be harmless. It was the only place he could enjoy the sun without worrying about being burned or blinded. The food and tranquility helped center him. He pushed the bowl away and took a deep breath. Quentin was ready to deal with this problem rationally and find a solution.


    She knows.


    Quentin threw his head back and let out a garbled, frustrated roar. She knew and that was probably half the fun! Quentin got to his feet and paced around the atrium, leg prickling with muted pain every few steps. It was a comforting distraction from the repetition in his head. Quentin shook his head and focused.


    Razia knew, but she wasn¡¯t a threat. Probably. If she was a threat, then would she really have spent the entire night hanging all over him? Quentin touched his cheek where she¡¯d kissed him. If he concentrated, he could almost feel her lips all over again, and the ghost of her hands running over his arms. She made it seem so normal, too. The first time anyone touched Quentin affectionately in years, and it didn¡¯t even register until now. His pacing quickened.


    If Razia was a threat, then she hid it well. Of course she would be able to hide it well. She spent who knows how long toying with him. Showing him a good time, just to throw him off balance. And for what? What was she getting out of it? This wasn¡¯t over. There was no way it was over, and here Quentin was just wasting time and doing nothing and --


    Quentin stopped, breathing hard. ¡°This is so stupid,¡± he groaned. He was, literally and figuratively, going around in circles. But what else was he supposed to do? It¡¯s not like he could ask anyone for help.


    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot,¡± Quentin said, sighing. ¡°And I¡¯m talking to myself. I never do this. Stop.¡± His empty house declined to respond.


    Ten minutes later he was dressed and hidden under his cloak, standing out in the gardens, staring through the locked gate. Quentin didn¡¯t leave the house until sunset if he could help it. It wasn¡¯t like the sun would burn Quentin through his cloak, though it would bake him if he didn¡¯t stick to the shade.


    Leaving the house now meant letting himself be vulnerable. Vulnerable people didn¡¯t do so well in Orchrisus. There was always someone with an eye out for easy prey. Quentin wasn¡¯t easy prey. He didn¡¯t let himself be. Taking a deep breath he went through the gate and locked it behind him.


    The gates let out into a large open park shared between all the other villas in the square. At this time of day, there were never fewer than a couple dozen people out enjoying the lush gardens. Children ran after each other, laughing and screaming while servants serviced the greenery or brought water in from the wells. In the center stood a large marble fountain, topped with a sculpture of two people dancing, water cascading down their bodies.


    Even after the better part of ten years, Quentin still felt out of place. His neighbors were physicians and merchants, slavers and advocates, even a general. When he stepped out onto the path leading out of the gardens, he kept his head down. No one but the servant girls who worked next door and did his laundry every week ever talked to him. Most of them knew vaguely who he was, but it was easier to pretend that there were only eight houses in the square instead of nine.


    That didn¡¯t stop Quentin from feeling like their eyes were glued to him whenever he left his home. He followed the path out the east gate, grunting to the guard at the post more out of habit than any real acknowledgement. Almost immediately, he let out a sigh of relief and straightened up. The city was pitiless and hostile, but there was an honesty to be appreciated in that.


    His gated community was insulated from the city by a couple of windy paths that kept the main streets at arm¡¯s length, but the city was never far away. The familiar, comforting clamor of life filled the air, growing louder with each step Quentin took, his heartbeat growing with it. Here, under the silk shades hanging between buildings things were still dim, safe, and quiet. Quentin could still see.


    Around the corner, everything changed. The Boulevard during the day was big, loud, and crowded. North Orchrisus¡¯ main thoroughfare was a raging river of people, pouring past each other. Thousands of voices roared as they clashed with one another, never stopping. Quentin paused, leaning against the last building to look for his opening. It was easier said than done.


    In the harsh, glaring light of day, Quentin¡¯s eyes failed him. It wasn¡¯t that he couldn¡¯t see the horde of people passing by, or the beetle carts, or the merchants at their stalls. The brighter the day, the less he saw. The people and buildings around him were washed out shapes and shadows in an endless glare. During the day, there were no colorful murals, or art, or beauty. Not for him. All he saw was blinding white, populated by shifting shadows.


    Quentin squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. His cloak protected him from burning and helped block out enough light to see this well. He was born and raised in this sprawling hellhole. There was nothing the streets could do to Quentin now that they hadn¡¯t already done. He exhaled and threw himself forward.


    There was the usual sensation of dropping, like Quentin was jumping off a cliff rather than just stepping onto a street. Then his foot touched the ground and he was moving, only getting shoved by one person (¡°Watch it, asshole.¡±) before he let the current take him forward. Bodies pressed around him from all sides. Quentin breathed evenly, focusing on moving forward. Dark shapes passed by on all sides, but no one paid him any attention. Bit by bit, step by step, he relaxed and breathed in the city.


    Thousands of footsteps stamped out a steady beat around him. Quentin looked around as best as he could from under his cloak. The longer he was out, the easier it was to see the stalls and carts and people behind them (¡°Fresh drinks! Come and quench your thirst, sir! Only one qala for the greatest beverage in the city!¡±). Streets he memorized at night slowly became familiar. People passing from behind appeared as if from nowhere, but that stopped startling him years before.


    A shoulder crashed against his as someone passed. Quentin¡¯s hand shot out and closed on the wrist of the pickpocket trying to get away. He squeezed and twisted. The offending hand released his bag of shards, fingers flailing desperately (¡°Ow fuck jeeze¡±). Quentin released him without slowing down. During the day he was vulnerable, but he was no one¡¯s prey. Not anymore.


    The Boulevard widened the further he went. As it opened up, Quentin¡¯s vision failed more and more as the shadows of buildings gave way to Trassius¡¯ Square. He continued up to the center, where a hundred foot statue of Saint Trassius had been erected two hundred years ago. Quentin crouched down next to a huddled figure. His leg screamed through the numbing gel, but he ignored it.


    ¡°Are there any beetle carts nearby?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°Empty and facing south if possible,¡± he added.


    The figure turned towards him, silent at first. With shaky hands they held up a clay bowl with a couple of shards in it.


    ¡°Point me to a beetle cart and you¡¯ll eat well today.¡±


    The beggar pointed haltingly. Quentin reached to his belt and fished around. Feeling around for the number etched in the glass, he drew out a five qala piece and dropped it in the bowl. Pain bloomed in his leg as he stood, but then it was once more just part of the background, along with the murmur of the crowd and the rising heat.


    To his good fortune, the first beetle cart he encountered was offloading its passengers. Quentin stood to the side patiently as they left. ¡°How much to take me down to Leeson Street right now?¡±


    ¡°A half qala for every seat I won¡¯t be able to fill,¡± the driver scoffed.


    ¡°Done.¡±


    Quentin climbed into the back of the cart, feeling his way around to the seat just behind the driver. The driver closed up and took her place, grabbing the reins and whipping it to get the beetle¡¯s attention. She looked at him, expectantly he assumed. He pulled out another five qala piece. ¡°Will this do?¡±


    The driver snatched it. ¡°A pleasure, sir.¡±


    She let out a sharp whistle and another whip and the Beetle lumbered forward. It did a wide half circle and started down south. Quentin let himself relax. He still couldn¡¯t see, and he didn¡¯t really have anyone to talk with most days. But shards made the city run, and Quentin had no shortage of blood money.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Most of the ride was blessedly silent. After one failed attempt to start a conversation with Quentin, the driver was content to just whistle tunelessly while the giant insect pulled them along. Quentin kept his head down, looking up just long enough to count each intersection as they passed it. Six, seven, eight intersections in and Quentin pat the driver on the arm.


    ¡°This¡¯ll do,¡± he said. The cart hadn¡¯t even come to a complete stop when Quentin hopped off the side. He landed hard enough to make his teeth rattle and the wound on his leg scream through the painkiller. Quentin straightened up, sucking in air through his teeth.


    ¡°Take care, I guess,¡± the driver called out. ¡°Weirdo,¡± she muttered before letting out another sharp whistle and driving her beast onward.


    Almost all of the way down to River street, Leeson was where insulae were creeping their way northward, threatening the relative luxury of North Orchrisus. Another few years and the demand for more cheap housing would eat another street. And another. Quentin knew the way by heart from here.


    Just around the corner, the ground opened up. Quentin took the stairs down, letting out a sigh of relief as he ducked away from the sun. The stairs went down another fifteen feet. Each step was cooler and more humid than the last. The sound of running water was a constant dull roar, quickly fading into the background.


    Quentin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark and his vision came back and the low grade anxiety left. Torches lined the walls of buildings identical to the ones above, save for their placement next to the underground river. Their houses remained cool all year round. The insulae up above were cheap. Homes in the Undersquare were as close to luxury as it got in this part of town.


    Turning another few corners by muscle memory, Quentin took a deep breath. He was going to get chewed out, and he would probably deserve it, but there was only one person who could help him right now. He knocked on the door, three loud bangs.


    The door opened up to reveal Jonas in just his underwear, looking groggy and disheveled. ¡°Hrrng. Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh,¡± Quentin¡¯s eyes flicked between Jonas and the back.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you!¡± A spark lit up Jonas¡¯ blue eyes. ¡°Come on in, Quentin. Demetrius is in the back, still sleeping.¡±


    Quentin stepped past him, uncomfortably aware of the teen¡¯s eyes locked on him as he made his way in and shed his cloak. He put it up on a hook near the door. ¡°Busy¡­Busy night for you two?¡± Quentin said diplomatically.


    Jonas chuckled. ¡°Yeah. We were out until near dawn drinking. Well, he was. I didn¡¯t drink too much. My head was ringing too much, and he cut me off early. I think he just wanted me to make sure he didn¡¯t get so drunk he puked and passed out.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°And how did that work out?¡±


    Jonas shrugged. ¡°He puked, but I kept him upright and got him home. Bully for me.¡±


    ¡°Bully for you,¡¯ Quentin echoed.


    Silence reigned, growing increasingly loud. Jonas stood there, staring at him while Quentin looked anywhere but at him. Demetrius¡¯ place was nearly as bare as his own. There were a couple of couches, scattered clay dishes and discarded bottles. Unlike his place, it looked lived in.


    Quentin coughed. ¡°So, you stayed here last night?¡±


    ¡°This morning,¡± Jonas said. ¡°I was tired and Demetrius had the room.¡± His eyes never left Quentin.


    The fact that he was almost naked, uncomfortably handsome, and wouldn¡¯t stop staring made Quentin want to shudder. ¡°What?¡± He finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°What is it? Do I have something on my face? Something you want to say, kid?¡±


    Jonas¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°What? Oh, no! No no no,¡± he held his hands up. ¡°I just...You¡¯re a legend, man! The other fighters, they talk about you, but act like they shouldn¡¯t. Some of them have told stories of really glorious victories, but they get really uncomfortable when I ask for more.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s expression darkened. He shrugged, looking away from Jonas. This happened sometime. A newbie took an interest in him until the rest of the gladiators beat it out of him. ¡°Nothing glorious about killing for money. I do my duty and I live to fight another day.¡±


    The teen leaned in closer, oblivious to Quentin¡¯s discomfort. ¡°No, but you¡¯re the longest recurring executioner, right? That¡¯s gotta count for something. No one else has your record.¡±


    ¡°Second longest. Everyone else fights proper warriors. I fight ordinary people and the occasional killer.¡±


    ¡°Legendary? Please.,¡± Demetrius growled as he leaned out of his room, ¡°the sumbitch is mostly just lucky. His luck¡¯s gonna run out eventually.¡± He stagger-limped into the main room. He, at least, was dressed, though Quentin saw some dried vomit on the front of his shirt. ¡°He¡¯s sloppy and careless.¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck off,¡± Quentin groused, ¡°you already let me have it last night. Next fight I¡¯ll make it flawless, just for you. Will that make you happy, dad?¡±


    Demetrius let out a harsh laugh. He closed the distance and the two clasped arms. ¡°No no, by all means, get yourself killed. I think the boy here wants your job.¡±


    They turned and looked at Jonas, whose smile fell. ¡°What? No. I mean, if that happened, I¡¯m not sure I would be opposed, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you repay my hospitality,¡± Demetrius growled, ¡°by making some breakfast? My head¡¯s fuckin¡¯ killing me and dealing with both of your bullshit¡¯s gonna make it worse.¡±


    Jonas grunted an affirmative and went to the kitchen. Quentin waited until he was out of the room before giving Demetrius a wide eyed, incredulous look. ¡°The kid? Did you and him¡­?¡±


    Demetrius made a face. Then he thought about it and shrugged. ¡°Naw. He¡¯s too young for me. I think he might be sweet on you though, if you want it.¡±


    ¡°...Pass. Look,¡± Quentin sat down on one of the couches. Demetrius took the other. ¡°I think I¡¯m in a bit of trouble, brother.¡±


    Instantly, Demetrius was as sober as an arbiter. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Razia happened. A pretty, distracting face that toyed with him happened. Oh, how Demetrius was going to laugh. Quentin took a deep breath. ¡°What should I do if I suspect someone has found out who I am?¡±


    Demetrius considered him silently for ten agonizingly long seconds. He nodded to himself. ¡°Well Quintius, I would recommend seeing if you can make peace with your father.¡±


    ¡°My father?¡± Quentin¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because this could be your last chance.¡± The grizzled man scowled. ¡°Fucking hell, Quentin. If someone knows your identity, you¡¯re as good as dead. Either they got someone dead they¡¯re sore about or they know someone else who does. Either they blab to the wrong person and you get shanked, or they blab to exactly the right person in exchange for a bag of shards and you get shanked. Either way, your life expectancy is real short if you don¡¯t deal with this.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°Is it that bad?¡±


    ¡°Two of the last three executioners died because someone couldn¡¯t keep their cockhole shut and they got dead by their victim¡¯s friends.¡± Demetrius rubbed at his temples. ¡°Why do you think no one talks to you?¡±


    The question threw him off guard. Through a tight throat, Quentin said, ¡°I just figured no one wanted to talk to the professional killer.¡±


    Demetrius burst out laughing. It was loud, harsh, and grating. Jonas poked his head out of the kitchen for a second in confusion. ¡°Are you kidding? Half those men would happily kill their mother if it meant getting paid. They just don¡¯t want to have to worry about dying for it. In or out of the arena. Listen.


    ¡°Jon-Jon was the executioner ¡®bout twenty years back. Went by Chopper. He was short, tough, and proud. He performed just fine, but outside of the arena? The dumb shit let his mouth run away from him in an argument. Bragged about one of his kills. Dead the next day, strangled from behind with some wire. Never found out who did it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin started, ¡°but I didn¡¯t talk to anyone. I wouldn¡¯t. I --¡±


    ¡°Orlovo,¡± Demetrius continued as if Quetin hadn¡¯t said a thing, ¡°was right before you started working in the infirmary. Went by Bladedancer. Made the job look classy. Hell of a swordsman, he would¡¯ve put you to shame.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but --¡±


    ¡°He was friendly with the other gladiators. Everyone loved him! He was the kind of guy we could take out for drinks. And we did. Everyone was all chatty and happy until someone overheard. They confronted him. He was drunk and didn¡¯t see the knife coming. When we found out how the guy heard about it, you know what happened, Quentin?¡±


    The pit in Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted. He did know. ¡°They put the gladiators to death as punishment for getting him killed.¡±


    Demetrius slammed his fist down on the arm of the couch. ¡°Yep! That¡¯s five people dead, from one overheard conversation. Not great, is it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s why no one wants to risk talking to you. After that, the job became what it is now.¡± Demetrius took a long, deep breath. ¡°So yes, I think it¡¯s safe to say that if there¡¯s someone out there who knows your identity, it¡¯s in your best interest to make sure they stay silent. By any means necessary.¡±


    Wait a minute. Quentin swallowed. ¡°You¡¯re not saying¡­¡±


    Demetrius shrugged and collapsed back into his battered old couch. Already an irritable person, the hangover had his patience a distant memory. ¡°I¡¯m not saying anything. I¡¯m definitely not tellin¡¯ you to do anything. I am saying that it could very well be your life or theirs. Can you imagine the money people would pay for your identity? I¡¯m pretty sure Mr. Cicero¡¯s lost at least a few dozen men to you over the past decade.¡±


    Quentin winced.


    ¡°Yeah, didn¡¯t think of him, did you?¡± Demetrius said.


    No, Quentin didn¡¯t often have cause to think of the North Side¡¯s top boss. If Cicero could even be called a criminal. As far as Quentin knew he remained completely legit and it was the people working for him who got their hands dirty. Either way, Quentin¡¯s involvement with anything even resembling the Orchrisan underworld was simply carrying out the Emperor¡¯s justice against it.


    If Quentin¡¯s name and appearance got out, it would be open season on him. It wouldn¡¯t even be personal to Mr. Cicero, it would be a necessary way to keep the loyalty and favor of his men. All because Quentin fought against his better instincts and had a drink with a pretty woman.


    ¡°What if she doesn¡¯t tell anyone?¡± Quentin asked weakly.


    ¡°She?¡± Demetrius raised an eyebrow. ¡°She? Shit, Quintius. You¡¯re already dead. What happened?¡±


    Painstakingly, Quentin told Demetrius about the previous night, from standing outside the Colosseum to Razia¡¯s whisper in his ear. Halfway through, Jonas got finished and brought out a platter of fried grubs and some peach slices. To his surprise, Demetrius stayed silent during the entire telling. Other than grabbing a few bites of grub, he could have been a statue.


    ¡°So let me get this straight Quentin,¡± he finally said. ¡°You met a whore. You got doe eyed over that whore. She played you and you saved her from a beating she probably had coming and then she taunted you by telling you she knew. And you think there¡¯s a chance she won¡¯t tell?¡± He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there,¡± Quentin protested.


    ¡°Jonas, you ever know a whore to pass up an easy payday?¡±


    Jonas looked up, chewing on some fruit. ¡°I dunno. I¡¯ve never really known too many whores.¡±


    Demetrius rolled his eyes. ¡°As long as you¡¯re paying them, they¡¯re loyal. That ends when the pay does. I¡¯ve known mercs with more honor than them, and half of them would kill their best friend for the right price.¡±


    ¡°She really didn¡¯t seem like that,¡± Quentin muttered, face heating up. ¡°I don¡¯t think she wants money from me.¡± And he didn¡¯t. The way that she danced around the pub, flitting from person to person and playing them, Quentin wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she ended up with whatever money she needed for whatever situation she was in.


    Demetrius¡¯ smile left his face. Something uncomfortably close to pity took over. Quentin¡¯s hands balled into fists. ¡°Quentin,¡± Demetrius said, slow and serious, ¡°No. You need to take this seriously and assume you¡¯re in danger. You can¡¯t assume she won¡¯t turn on you because she was nice to you for a couple hours.


    ¡°This city isn¡¯t kind, Quentin. You know that better than most. This isn¡¯t the kinda place where good people get ahead. If someone¡¯s not your friend, there¡¯s a good chance they¡¯re your enemy and you gotta expect the worst out of them. It¡¯s what a lot of them have to do to survive. This city¡¯s hungry. Ravenous, in fact. It chews people up and spits out their bones, and the longer you¡¯re here the more it affects you too.¡±


    Demetrius rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and collect his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m sure you had a good time with this Razia. But was it a good enough time to risk your life over?¡±


    ¡°My life¡¯s not worth much,¡± said Quentin with a bitter smile. ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time until I lose anyway --¡±


    The back of Demetrius¡¯ hand met Quentin¡¯s cheek with a furious crack of thunder. Quentin reached for the sore spot absently, shock numbing the skin and making his eyes water. Even Jonas jumped back in his seat.


    ¡°Knock that shit off,¡± Demetrius said, jabbing a finger in his direction. ¡°You may be a sloppy, whiny pissbaby with a deathwish but you¡¯re my friend and I¡¯m fucking exhausted with the nihilism, Quentin. Deal with this. If you get yourself dead, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    Quentin had a dozen sharp responses on the tip of his tongue, but underneath the irritation, Demetrius radiated concern. That felt good. The executioner rubbed at his cheek. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you hit me like a child.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re acting like one,¡± Demetrius countered.


    Jonas let out a surprised peal of laughter. At Quentin and Demetrius¡¯ combined glower he shrank in his seat. Quentin found himself smiling and actually feeling better. More nervous than before, but there was a resolve there. ¡°Tonight, then. Thank you, Demetrius.¡±


    Demetrius¡¯ craggy face split into a smile. ¡°Slapping the stupid out of you? Anytime, brother.¡±

 Chapter 9: Razias Shadow

    Chapter 9: Razia¡¯s Shadow


    Demetrius and Jonas left shortly after they cleared their plates. For them, it would be an off night at the Colosseum, working through the last dregs of hangovers and concussions while Quentin recovered from his injury and stayed behind. They left Quentin with reason to be thoughtful. Maybe even angry.


    Demetrius was the reason the other fighters ignored Quentin? No, Quentin shook his head, exhaling hard and burying his fingers into his knees. They¡¯d decided to just pretend he didn¡¯t exist rather than risk getting killed from letting his identity slip. It made sense. Quentin couldn¡¯t deny that he might¡¯ve done the same thing in their position. Of course, if he was in their position he would have more than just one friend and one adoring teenage fan.


    And then there was what Demetrius said about Razia. Or mostly, about what she was. As if there was anything shameful about making a living. It beat what Quentin did. At least Razia and other women like her made people happy. They provided something for the world and took the abuse of the worst of society. Quentin wasn¡¯t going to judge Razia. Not for that. Not when he killed people two or three nights a week.


    Still, he couldn¡¯t shake the last sliver of doubt. She figured it out, and she wanted him to know. Razia told him to his face and walked away. What could she possibly want from him? Maybe she would rat him out. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t. Either way, Demetrius was right: Quentin did have to find her, and as soon as possible.


    Quentin stayed until sunset. When the water clock in the corner reached the halfway point, he grabbed his cloak and left Demetrius¡¯ home, locking up behind him. Stepping out into the last dying rays of light was a relief. Orchrisus at sunset was such a sight even Quentin couldn¡¯t be down. The sky was on fire with fierce oranges, lazy yellows, and deep purples creeping up on the horizon and the people matched. They streamed around Quentin, wearing colorful silks and with hair dyed every color imaginable. Sunrise and sunset were the times of the Pierced Heart, and thus the times of Orchrisus. Sunset was the start of when he could be outside without fear of burning or blindness.


    Sunset was when he could disappear into anonymity as just another figure in the crowd. Night brought out the hedonism in Orchrisians. Quentin might not have belonged, but at night it felt like the city belonged to him. Despite the growing pain in his leg wound, Quentin walked back up to the Boulevard and found Maggie¡¯s Den.


    The dinner crowd filled the place. Only a handful of seats were available, and servers squeezed by each other to attend to the tables. Even Maggie¡¯s daughter Andrea was helping out instead of playing her lute. Quentin kept his cloak held tight around him and pushed his way to the bar, head down and praying no one would bother him. Gods, this had been way easier the night before.


    ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± Maggie shouted to be heard as she shoved a couple of mugs and collected a handful of shards for them.


    ¡°Information,¡± Quentin shouted back, tilting his head to get a better look at her.


    Maggie¡¯s eyes narrowed with recognition. She snorted. ¡°Welcome back, Battlemaster.¡± She grabbed a mug and filled it for him, setting it down without missing a beat or motioning for money.


    ¡°What¡¯s this for?¡± Quentin asked, tentatively taking a sip.


    ¡°A thank you for last night,¡± Maggie said, working automatically to pour refills and collect discarded mugs from the others at the bar. Andrea came up from behind her and began taking money. ¡°The drinks started flowing when it turned into gladiator storytime. You had a helluva eager audience.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s stomach dropped into a deep, cold pit. ¡°I did?¡± His memory had bits and pieces of people forming a circle around him and him talking up a storm. There was little else, save for a shaky image of Razia pressed up close with her arm around his shoulders and laughing pleasantly.


    Maggie let out a loud, booming laugh. ¡°Can¡¯t blame you for not rememberin¡¯. You were wobblier¡¯n a newborn lamb by the end of the night. Everyone was buying drink after drink so you¡¯d keep talking. And,¡± she said, grinning fiercely, ¡°I didn¡¯t have to break up any fights. The least I can do is get you a drink.¡±


    Alarms went off in his head, sounding suspiciously like Demetrius screaming at him. ¡°What exactly was I telling them?¡± Quentin asked in a shaky voice.


    He got a shrug in response. ¡°Big one was how you became Battlemaster. Something about you being shit on by some gladiators before you laid their asses out, became a human training dummy, and climbed the ranks. Any of that true?¡±


    Quentin let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he was holding. ¡°More or less,¡± he said, taking a big gulp of his beer. Maybe that was before he got too drunk to keep a lid on things. Or maybe there wasn¡¯t anything to worry about. Except for... ¡°That woman I was with. Does she come around here often?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Maggie¡¯s face screwed up in concentration. ¡°¡®Bout two, maybe three times a week I see Razia in here. Usually to get food, rarely alone. She¡¯s almost always on someone¡¯s arm. Usually guys. Though there¡¯s this pretty redhead girl I seen her with a few times. Why?¡±


    Instantly, Quentin¡¯s face heated up. He could hear Razia¡¯s laugh echoing in his head. You actually get a bit of color to your cheeks! ¡°I, uh. I need to find her. It¡¯s about something she said to me last night.¡±


    Maggie looked at him with clear pity in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re setting yourself up for heartbreak, kid. You go after a girl like that, you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    Quentin shook his head vehemently. ¡°No no, it¡¯s not like that. It¡¯s --¡± There was a shout behind him, followed by three loud thumps and the sound of mugs breaking.


    ¡°Oh hell,¡± Maggie sighed. She grabbed a big, cracked hunk of wood from under the counter. ¡°If you want to find her, ask them,¡± she pointed at a table in the corner. ¡°They like to hire girls like her. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­¡± Maggie vaulted over the bar, brandishing the club. ¡°I TOLD YOU NO FIGHTING!¡±


    ¡°Maggie, no!¡± A voice called out before being silenced with a thud.


    The rest of the bar ignored the fight. Quentin was fine with doing the same and winding his way around people over to the table Maggie pointed out. To his surprise, the people sitting there were familiar.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s the Battlemaster!¡± Adrian, the burly blonde man from the night before slammed his drink down and waved him over.


    ¡°Battlemaster!¡± Cassius echoed, making space for Quentin to join them. Around them, a few more people looked up and called out the title.


    Quentin looked around, something halfway between a grimace and a smile on his face. Gods, how many people did he interact with? How many people knew his face now and thought he was something he wasn¡¯t? He sat down beside Cassius, forcing himself to focus.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Hi. I wanted to ask you --¡±


    Cassius threw an arm around his shoulder and pounded the table. ¡°We were just talking about you.¡±


    Adrian nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Yeah, we had a question!¡±


    Quentin looked between them. Were these seriously the two guys he almost got in a fight with? What was wrong with them? He took a deep breath and let it out nodding. ¡°Alright. What is it?¡±


    Adrian leaned in closer, hunching over the table. ¡°How come you don¡¯t fight in any matches? You know, if you¡¯re so much better than everyone else.¡±


    He was smiling, but Quentin had no damned clue if Adrian was taunting him or trying to be friendly. Either was likely, and Quentin wasn¡¯t inclined to trust that people were friendly towards him. No matter how they seemed at first. ¡°Because I am as you said,¡± Quentin said evenly, ¡°a fucking moonkissed. If I went in the ring, they¡¯d throw shit at me.¡±


    To his surprise, Cassius winced and removed his arm. ¡°Oh, uh...Sorry about that. You¡¯re all right, Battlemaster. Quentin, yeah?¡±


    Huh. Maybe they weren¡¯t baiting him. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. ¡°It¡¯s...It¡¯s fine. Here, let¡¯s get you a couple of drinks.¡± Quentin waved two fingers in the air and gestured at the table. At the bar, Andrea met his gaze and nodded, getting to it.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Maggie said you could tell me something,¡± said Quentin as Andrea put their drinks down on the table. He tossed her a few half qala pieces.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Adrian grabbed his drink and lifted it in a silent toast. ¡°Whatcha need?¡±


    ¡°That woman I was with,¡± said Quentin. ¡°How do I find her?¡±


    ¡°Ayy, she was that good, eh?¡± Cassius crowed, elbowing Quentin in the side. ¡°I knew she would be.¡±


    ¡°Any girl who shaves her head and has piercings like that,¡± said Adrian knowledgeably, ¡°has got to be an ABSOLUTE freak in bed. Cute little thing, but I bet she¡¯d leave teeth marks in ya!¡±


    Quentin set his jaw and willed his face to stay normal. No go. His face burned, but his two companions didn¡¯t seem to notice. Cassius brayed like an ass near his ear, and Adrian was starting to make an obscene gesture when Quentin cleared his throat. ¡°Do you know where I can find her?¡±


    ¡°Naw,¡± said Cassius.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Quentin stood up.


    ¡°But Bonz does,¡± Adrian supplied.


    Cassius snapped and pointed at Adrian. ¡°Bonz, yeah! That ugly sumbitch wouldn¡¯t stop talking about her for like a week straight. He¡¯d know. Pretty sure he¡¯s still nursing a nasty wound, too. He¡¯ll be home.¡±


    ¡°Where do I find this Bonz?¡±


    They told him. ¡°Great. Thanks. Enjoy your drinks.¡± Quentin stepped away from the table, not sure if he was glad to be away from them or not. Cassius¡¯ hand shot out and tugged on his cloak.


    ¡°Um,¡± Cassius said. ¡°About that curse. We¡¯re good, right?¡±


    Bonz, as it turned out, lived right where the prosperous part of north Orchrisus ended and the bad part started. It was the kind of place where the inhabitants looked out for each other but everyone else was fair game. The brightly painted murals and personal gardens of one neighborhood gave way to small, tightly packed houses crowded on top of one another. One of the city¡¯s five Watchtowers separated the two areas, its shadow looming over the seedy neighborhood a constant warning.


    It was hard not to be wary of the Watchmen nearby, who leaned against the tower and chatted, but they paid Quentin little attention. They weren¡¯t there to stop people from going into that neighborhood, they were there to keep an eye on anyone trying to get out. Quented crossed the invisible line without incident, but as soon as he was out of sight of the tower, trouble found him.


    Quentin didn¡¯t see the first man follow him, but he noticed the second. As he walked down the street, a tough looking man with scarred arms and blue hair cut down to a stripe looked behind him. When Quentin passed, he pushed off from the wall and started walking behind.


    Any other part of town, it could be a coincidence. Here, just after sunset with the full moon beating down on them, Quentin could see their shadows stretched out on the ground, as if they were walking beside him. He kept his pace steady as his heart began to pound and he did the math. Two potential attackers, hostile territory, while he had an injury.


    Even if he wanted a fight, odds weren¡¯t good enough to risk it.


    His destination wasn¡¯t far now, but the shadows crept closer. They were close enough to hear the crunch of their sandals on sand, getting louder by the second. Quentin walked quickly but not hurriedly. His leg throbbed, and running would set them off, same as any other predator. Another minute and they¡¯d jump him and no amount of skill would save him.


    Quentin turned the next corner. They found him waiting for them, leaning up against the doorway of a dilapidated house. He had his knife out and was cleaning his teeth with the tip. They froze upon seeing him, glass daggers in hand.


    Neither of them said anything or moved a muscle. Quentin could practically see them working out whether they should back off or attack now and overwhelm him before he could defend himself. He made the choice easy. Pushing away from the wall, Quentin drew himself up to his full height and held his arms out in a welcoming gesture. The moonlight gleamed off the metal of his blade.


    They saw it and paled. The only people around those parts with metal weapons were either the Watch or professional criminals. The ones with enough money to splurge on good steel. Neither was worth troubling. Or so Quentin hoped.


    Evidently they agreed. Slowly they put their knives back on their belts and backed away from him. It was almost funny. Quentin smiled and sheathed his knife when they were no longer in sight. He wasn¡¯t prey for anyone.


    The house where Bonz lived wasn¡¯t hard to find. It was a ramshackle shithole like the rest of the neighborhood, but it had a large B carved into the door in five harsh, jagged lines. Thinking back to Adrian and Cassius, this seemed like the right place. Quentin knocked on the door.


    The man who opened the door made Quentin look handsome, and as soon as he had the thought Quentin felt guilty. Bonz was tall and broad, with a healthy layer of fat over thick muscles. His face was scarred to hell, with one milky white eye and half of his nose missing. Bonz loomed in the doorway, glowering at Quentin. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Hi. I was hoping you could help me,¡± Quentin started.


    Bonz scoffed and grabbed a gnarled club from beside the door.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Razia Rashid!¡±


    At that, Bonz paused. Looking up into Bonz¡¯ ugly face, Quentin gambled. He lowered his hood, letting the man get a good look at him. Understanding reached Bonz. He moved out of the way and motioned with his head for Quentin to come inside.


    The inside was worse than the outside, and Quentin was almost impressed. Demetrius¡¯ home was messy, but there were dozens of discarded bottles and broken reed baskets from whatever food stalls Bonz got his meals from. Two rats battled over the last hunks of moldy bread. There were battered chairs, but neither man sat.


    ¡°Nice place,¡± said Quentin, unable to help himself.


    Bonz grunted an acknowledgement that Quentin spoke before getting to business. ¡°You met Razia too, huh? Isn¡¯t she great?¡±


    The eagerness in Bonz¡¯ voice surprised Quentin. As big and mean as the man looked, he sounded flat out happy. ¡°Huh. Yeah, she seemed¡­¡±


    ¡°WONDERFUL!¡± A big grin split Bonz¡¯ face in half, showing some missing teeth. ¡°Not like some¡¯a those other girls.¡±


    Quentin stared at the man. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn¡¯t it. Being told to fuck off, or having to press to get some kind of answers would¡¯ve been it, but excitement? ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin said. ¡°That¡¯s her.¡±


    ¡°What was your favorite part?¡± Bonz asked, grabbing a half empty bottle from his chair and taking a long pull.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°For me, it was the way she listened. Like, really listened. I mean, I could fuck any whore I wanted. Even with¡­¡± Bonz gestured to his face. ¡°But with Razia, I forgot it wasn¡¯t real. Just for a little bit.¡±


    That hit close to home. Despite being indoors, with only Bonz for company, the familiar instinct to put his hood up and hide his face hit Quentin hard. He swallowed and nodded. ¡°That¡¯s...That¡¯s her,¡± he said again.


    ¡°Was it like that for you too? Did she make you forget you were a freak for a while?¡± Bonz practically bounced from foot to foot, ecstatic that he had someone to talk to about it. As if they were kindred souls, instead of just two ugly thugs who happened to run into the same peculiar woman.


    ¡°...Kind of?¡± Quentin struggled to find the sweet spot between being honest and not raining on the man¡¯s parade. ¡°Not really. I¡¯ll never stop being this way, and I can¡¯t forget it. She made other people seem to forget it, I guess. Besides, we didn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    Bonz¡¯ brows furrowed in confusion. ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why the hell not?¡± Bonz let out a snort that was so much louder and worse with half his nose missing. ¡°What¡¯re you here for, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to find her,¡± said Quentin, some of his frustration seeping through to his tone. ¡°Last night she left before we...Before, okay? I¡¯m trying to find her to...Get more out of things.¡±


    ¡°Ahhh.¡± Bonz nodded, full of understanding. He took another pull from the bottle and offered it to Quentin, who waved it off. ¡°I dunno where all she goes,¡± he said.


    Quentin sighed. Of course he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°But I do know she works some nights at the Silk Lounge,¡± said Bonz. ¡°That¡¯s where I met her. Dunno if she¡¯s gonna be there tonight, but s¡¯far as I know she¡¯s there half the time.¡±


    It was like a bucket of cold water was up-ended on Quentin¡¯s head. Quentin knew the Silk Lounge. It was a place for professional criminals, mercenaries, and bosses to meet in peace and safety. He¡¯d even been there once. It was a gaudy, tacky place.


    And it was dangerous, as any place where dozens of armed men with disregard for the law gathered was. If Quentin could have paled, he would. There was a good chance that in going there, he¡¯d run into people who knew prisoners he executed. Razia knew who he was, and she was hanging out around people who would pay good money for the privilege of killing him.


    Demetrius was right. Quentin needed to handle this before it was too late.


    ¡°Gods,¡± Quentin groaned.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bonz agreed enthusiastically. ¡°Not too far from here! She¡¯s a bit picky about who she sees, but¡­¡± He motioned between the two of them. ¡°I think she¡¯s got a type. Go see her, and she¡¯ll make you into a new man.¡±


    Quentin left with a renewed need to see this through and a hearty pat on the back from Bonz that rattled his teeth. The Silk Lounge wasn¡¯t too far from there. Quentin wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if half the neighborhood went there on occasion. The one time he¡¯d been there, everyone there seemed like a bunch of cutthroats kept peaceful only by the threat of angering a predator much higher up the food chain.


    Such a peace was a house of cards, ready to tumble the moment someone looked at it funny. In his experience, just existing near people made them look funny and be ready to throw a punch. Then again, maybe they¡¯d make the same mistake Bonz did and assume he was one of them. Quentin didn¡¯t know if that thought was reassuring or depressing.


    His thoughts were interrupted by voices around the next corner. Quentin slowed down as he got near, listening.


    ¡°...I don¡¯t care what you want,¡± a nasally, stuffed up voice said. ¡°We¡¯re going for the bounty. How hard could it be to find a whore in Orchrisus?¡±


    Heart pounding, Quentin peeked his head around the corner. There stood the three muggers from the night before.

 Chapter 10: The Silk Lounge

    Chapter 10: The Silk Lounge


    Quentin ducked back behind the corner. As dark as it had been the night before, there was no mistaking them. Three men, one with bandages over his nose and two black eyes, talking about finding a whore. Come to think of it, this wasn¡¯t too far from where he and Razia encountered them. This was their part of town.


    ¡°Not hard at all, Phil,¡± said one of them. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. Finding one specific whore, well, that¡¯s when it gets tricky, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said the third man. ¡°Markus is right! If you got a plan, that¡¯s different. We could work with a plan. What if she got scared and left town?¡±


    The voices were getting closer. Quentin looked around. There was nowhere to hide, and no time to run like hell. Plenty of people walked around in a cloak to hide who they were, but even these jackasses would recognize him. With no time left to decide, Quentin let himself drop to the ground. The wound on his leg screamed in protest, but he¡¯d live. No one thought twice about beggars on the street.


    ¡°If she was going to leave Orchrisus, she would¡¯ve done it a month ago. Either she¡¯s stupid or she¡¯s got balls that drag along the ground.¡±


    They came into view. Or rather, their feet did. Quentin scrunched up, feigning shivering. They stopped, and Quentin¡¯s heart jumped into his throat. If they suspected or even just felt a bit sadistic, it was all over.


    ¡°You think she¡¯s a dusk-girl?¡± The deepest voice of the three said. Quentin relaxed some.


    ¡°What? No, Gregor, it¡¯s just an expression.¡± The leader let out a long suffering sigh. ¡°Point is, it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to find her. Let¡¯s say Razia slipped up here to avoid Piro, yeah? That narrows it down. She¡¯s a short bald islander. How many of those d¡¯you think are running around?¡±


    ¡°Thing is,¡± Markus said, ¡°we not only have to find her but get her down there alive. Probably mostly unharmed, given what Christophe said. Is it really worth the trouble? C¡¯mon Phil. Let¡¯s do something else. It¡¯s been a while since we pulled an Angry Lover robbery. Doesn¡¯t that sound like fun, Gregor?¡±


    Markus crashed to the earth. Quentin jerked in surprise and couldn¡¯t suppress the hiss of pain from his leg.


    ¡°Forty. Aquilos. I¡¯m not giving that up just because you¡¯re feeling lazy!¡± Phil yelled.


    Markus scrambled back to his feet. ¡°Forty aquilos for a fool¡¯s errand! What about money now, you daft bastard? Let¡¯s make some money now.¡±


    The big one stomped closer to Quentin. ¡°What about this sorry bastard?¡± Gregor kicked at Quentin¡¯s side. It hurt, but the jolt of fear was worse. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s got a few shards on him.¡± Quentin didn¡¯t have to feign the violent shudder that passed through him. His hand went for his blade under the cloak but he waited.


    ¡°Knock it off, Gregor,¡± Phil stepped forward and stopped the next kick. ¡°Look at him twitch. He¡¯s probably diseased. You don¡¯t want none of that.¡±


    Quentin let out a low moan. Gregor took a step back immediately. ¡°D¡¯you think?¡± If he wasn¡¯t so tense, Quentin would¡¯ve laughed.


    ¡°C¡¯mon lads, I¡¯ll make you a deal.¡± Phil turned back towards Markus, and Gregor joined him. Quentin might as well have been invisible at that point. ¡°We get a decent score, a bite to eat, and then we¡¯ll go look for the islander. Yeah?¡±


    There was a chorus of agreeable grunts, and then they were walking down the street away from Quentin. ¡°Mooran noodles, maybe? I¡¯ve got a craving and¡­¡± And then they were out of earshot.


    A good two minutes passed before Quentin allowed himself to climb painfully to his feet. The wound on his leg throbbed, hot and insistent with pain. He raised his cloak up to look at it and winced. A day full of walking around instead of resting really hadn¡¯t done him any favors, but it was too late to turn back now. Not when he was this close. Not with what he just heard.


    Regardless of whether or not Razia was out to get something from him, she needed to know people were after her. What she did with the information wasn¡¯t Quentin¡¯s concern, but she had to know. Quentin tested his weight on the leg. His leg protested, but held. So much trouble, so much of a headache, for one woman. He shook his head. The Silk Lounge was only another mile east.


    Even used to walking everywhere, he arrived tired, sore, and wishing he¡¯d given it a day or two before he freaked out and tripped over himself trying to find Razia. Quentin stopped just short of the building, leaning up against the wall of one of the nearby buildings, which was dark and devoid of life. He looked up at the Silk Lounge and grimaced.


    In Orchrisus, land was at a premium. Most of the south side was cramped and built on top of itself. Most buildings were two or three stories. Here in the north part of the city, it was more of a sprawl. It was rare to see buildings taller than two stories, and the Silk Lounge had three. It stood a good twenty feet apart from all the buildings around it, the center of its own private square.


    If someone had told Quentin that it was funded by Mr. Cicero, he would¡¯ve believed it. Guards sat on stools at the front doors and patrolled the roof. This was going to be more dangerous than he expected. Quentin took a deep breath and approached.


    Neither of the guards paid him much mind, other than to grunt and nod at him in the way that all professional doormen did when they judged someone worthy. He opened the door and stepped inside. Instantly he was assaulted by the sweet, acrid smell of smoke. It was exactly as gaudy as he remembered. The foyer was a simple hallway leading up to a front desk, with two paths to either side of the building. One side was modeled after an insulting caricature of Ramali culture and aesthetics, the other Mooran. The common denominator was silk wrappings and robes as their fashion, and paper lanterns of every color hung along the walls, illuminating dancing wisps of smoke. The entire place was hazy with it.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± a fat man in loud orange and black striped silk robes called out from behind the counter. ¡°Are you part of a party, or alone?¡±


    Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted into a knot. There was no looking around and hoping he ran into Razia this way. He stepped forward, noting the bodyguard to the proprietor¡¯s right. ¡°Alone,¡± Quentin said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.


    ¡°Ahh,¡± the fat man gave a knowing laugh. ¡°And it¡¯s your first time here, no?¡± He had an oily, jovial quality to his voice Quentin immediately disliked.


    ¡°More or less,¡± Quentin replied, moving up to the counter.


    ¡°It¡¯s obvious,¡± said the woman to the proprietor¡¯s right. She was a tall, lean, knife of a woman. Her smile was sharp and unpleasant. ¡°They always wait and stare like they¡¯re waiting to be let in. Mommy, daddy, can I play too?¡± As if to demonstrate her point, the door opened and two people shouldered their way past Quentin and headed to the room to his left.


    ¡°Never you mind Janine,¡± the man said. ¡°Unless you break one of our rules. Then you mind. Mind her as if your life depends on it.¡±


    Janine said nothing but smirked. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Her belt held a number of blades on them, and at least three of them appeared to be steel.


    ¡°Noted,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°My name is Otho, and it¡¯s my job seeing to your needs. Well, not personally, of course.¡± Otho was all smiles and honey. ¡°What are you interested in tonight?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a girl. Bonz pointed me this way,¡± Quentin added, praying silently that Bonz¡¯ reputation would help rather than hurt him.


    ¡°That explains the cloak,¡± Janice said, looking him up and down. ¡°You as handsome as our dear Bonzales? Give us a peek.¡± He craned her head trying to get a look.


    Quentin turned away from her and faced Otho. The cloak didn¡¯t completely conceal him. Part of his face would always be visible, even hunching the way he did. But more often than not, he could pass himself off as just vaguely sickly and not anything freakish. Just so long as he didn¡¯t give them a chance to look too closely. ¡°Afraid so. My own father can¡¯t stand the sight of me. Is Razia in tonight?¡±


    Janine snickered to herself. Otho shot her a look before shaking his head at Quentin. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. She¡¯s not one of our girls with a permanent contract. She comes and goes as she pleases, and she hasn¡¯t been here for a couple of days.¡±


    Quentin sighed. Of course she wasn¡¯t. This wasn¡¯t his kind of day. Or week. Or month. He shook his head. ¡°Oh.¡± He turned to leave, but Otho wasn¡¯t done with him yet.


    ¡°She has friends who work here,¡± he said, ¡°a couple of who might be willing to see you, no matter the physical deformity. And if not them, then we have half a dozen slave girls who can¡¯t refuse any fantasy you may have.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s lip curled in disgust. At this point, he was all but ready to cut his losses and leave this foul place behind. But there was still a chance. ¡°Friends, you say?¡± He turned back to Otho. ¡°Close friends?¡±


    Otho shrugged. ¡°Samantha seems to be. But our dear Samantha has a tender heart and is friends with most of the girls here.¡±


    ¡°Mostly because she¡¯s too dumb to recognize mockery,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s that. I believe Samantha is finishing cleaning up from her last client and should be ready in just a few minutes. Would you care to wait in a room for her?¡±


    Finally, a bit of luck! Even if Razia wasn¡¯t here, a friend of hers could deliver a message. It wouldn¡¯t do a damned thing for his own problem, but maybe a warning about those muggers would keep her mouth shut about him. After a long day of trudging about town, the smidge of hope was like water to the parched. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Otho coughed conspicuously. He inclined his head apologetically and said in his best supplicating voice, ¡°Ah, see, there¡¯s a little matter of fee. Samantha is one of our most popular girls, and we don¡¯t accept anything under half an hour.¡±


    Of course. Quentin sighed. ¡°Fine. How much?¡±


    ¡°Two castura,¡± said Otho. ¡°In advance.¡±


    Quentin inhaled sharply. It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t have the shards, but that much for a half hour? ¡°Look, I just want to ask her a couple of questions and have her pass a message on.¡±


    Otho held up his hands. ¡°What you do with our girls is your business. You¡¯re paying for time with them.¡±


    Quentin fished out two castura pieces and all but slammed them on the counter. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°And...¡± Otho continued.


    ¡°Hood down, pretty boy,¡± Janice finished for him, pushing off from the wall and coming around the counter beside Quentin. ¡°And declare whatever weapons you have on you.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡±


    ¡°We aim to provide a safe, secure environment for all of our patrons to let their guard down and enjoy themselves,¡± said Otho. ¡°We¡¯ll never tell a soul who comes or goes, and we keep the Watch out. But such discretion means no anonymity from us. Either show your face or Janice will show you the door. Painfully.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    It was then that Quentin realized what he instantly hated about Otho. For all the little man¡¯s honeyed words and borderline fawning over a potential customer, it was all an act. The place was decorated with a thin veneer of class and beauty for its clientele of mercenaries, murderers, and slavers. Absolute scum, and the idea that he of all people wasn¡¯t good enough to be here? As a couple more guards peeked their heads out from behind a corner, Quentin found himself getting angry.


    ¡°Yeah. Sure. Fine.¡± Quentin said, heartbeat pounding in his head. He was too close to leave now, and if he refused chances were they would rough him up anyway. So why not? He pulled his hood down and was rewarded with an instant sneer on Otho¡¯s face. ¡°Here. This what you wanted to see? I¡¯m fuckugly and looking for a girl. This good enough for you?¡±


    Janice let out a low whistle. She shook her head, but looked impressed. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn¡¯t this. Otho, on the other hand, turned bright red. ¡°C-certainly not,¡± Otho seethed.


    Quentin bared his teeth in a fierce grin. Men came out from around their corners, all but surrounding him. If he booked it he could still leave, but they were ready, hands on their weapons and waiting for an order from Otho. ¡°Why not?¡± Quentin demanded. ¡°My money spends the same as anyone elses¡¯. Show me this Samantha.¡±


    ¡°Easy there,¡± Janice warned, drawing out the first two inches of a curved knife. ¡°Keep your head on or lose it, pretty boy.¡±


    ¡°We may serve all kinds here,¡± Otho said, drawing himself up and crossing his arms over his chest, ¡°but we don¡¯t serve your kind. I will not risk one of our best girls on a moonkissed, of all people! If you want a girl, find a slave market and pick one up cheap. I don¡¯t want to have to clean up whatever¡¯s left after you sate yourself.¡±


    There it was. The same disgusting belief Quentin faced his entire life. It didn¡¯t matter how cautious he was, how polite he was, or how non threatening he presented himself. The moment someone knew what he looked like, they expected the worst out of him. They expected bloodlust and violence. They expected death. Maggie¡¯s Den was an outlier, likely avoided all because Razia distracted them with a stupid story and made people forget to be afraid of him.


    ¡°If I had that kind of hunger for flesh,¡± Quentin said through clenched teeth, ¡°I can think of better targets than innocent women. Believe me.¡±


    One of the men to Quentin¡¯s right drew a long bronze dagger from his belt. Janice held out her hand to stop him. ¡°Wait,¡± she said.


    ¡°Wait? No, don¡¯t wait! He threatened me!¡± Otho yelled, spittle flying. ¡°Remove him at once.¡±


    Janice leveled a cool stare at Quentin. He met it with his own scowl, daring her to act. This wasn¡¯t a fight he would win, but after avoiding several fights in just one night, he almost craved the action. To his surprise, Janice smiled. She leaned over and whispered something in Otho¡¯s ear, never taking her eyes off of Quentin.


    Indignant rage disappeared from Otho¡¯s face, replaced by mirth and even excitement. He nodded to her and cleared his throat. ¡°My employee has presented me with a better idea. I¡¯ll allow you to see Samantha, provided you give me your name and agree to pay her weight in castura when you lose control and kill her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not planning on killing anyone you fat, stupid bastard,¡± Quentin snarled.


    The guards took another step closer, but Otho waved them off. ¡°Your name,¡± he repeated, ¡°and a guarantee of paying her weight in castura should she die. And one additional castura for insulting me.¡±


    Even Quentin knew that was likely as good a deal as he was going to get. He couldn¡¯t imagine any reason for hurting the girl, no matter what these bastards thought of him. Quentin took a deep breath and nodded, willing himself to cool down. He withdrew two more castura and threw them onto the counter.


    Otho raised an eyebrow. ¡°My name is Quentin Quintius,¡± Quentin said. ¡°And you can take my money and go fuck yourself.¡±


    Janice burst out laughing. ¡°Oh I think I like you, pretty boy. Go to the right, last door on the left, around the corner. We¡¯ll send her out shortly.¡±


    Quentin turned and headed that way, slamming his shoulder against the man still in his way. The guard didn¡¯t stop him. As soon as he was in the hallway, he instantly regretted losing his temper. He had better control than that. For all he knew, they¡¯d take his money and send in men with bolters and kill him before he even had a chance to stand.


    Gods, how he hated this place. Quentin trudged down the hallway, not bothering to put his hood back up. Let them all see the freak if they wanted. He was past caring.


    The rooms along the way were more nooks than formal rooms. The first few were hidden from sight by curtains made of, what else, semi-transparent silk. Three men sat on cushions around a short table, all smoking something sickly sweet from a hookah. A couple nooks down, a tanned, middle aged woman with her top off sat in a man¡¯s lap and drank deeply from a drink while he laughed, arm around her waist. Right at the corner there was a tall, slender, dark skinned woman standing on a table, gyrating to drumming from one of the men watching her. As he passed, she turned around and Quentin could see her cock through translucent silk leggings. A dusk-girl, then. The men were rapt with attention. Quentin turned the corner and lost sight of her.


    Around the corner, they were actual rooms with doors that were largely closed. The last room on the left was just past the stairs leading up to the second story. Quentin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The floor was covered in pillows and cushions, surrounding a small table identical to the rooms he passed. He frowned. This was going to hurt. He went to the far wall and let himself slide down it, wincing as he worked his leg into a comfortable position. The wound throbbed relentlessly now, reminding him what a terrible idea this all was.


    He didn¡¯t have to wait long. Just long enough for Quentin to imagine the series of horrible ways he could be killed if they were setting him up and there was a knock at the door. ¡°Did someone order an evening snack?¡± A high, bubbly voice called out.


    ¡°I...I guess?¡± Quentin called back.


    The door opened. There stood Samantha, he presumed. His jaw dropped. Quentin promised to pay her weight in castura if she died while with him, and now he understood why the bastard agreed so quickly. Samantha was, in a word, plump. At a quick glance, he¡¯d guess that she weighed nearly as much as he did. That wasn¡¯t a bad thing.


    Two pieces of clothing were all that kept her from being naked, if you could call them that. A tiny bright green skirt flared out impressively around her wide hips, stopping just shy of being indecent. Her midriff was bare, and she didn¡¯t seem even a little ashamed of her belly. Her top was, of course, silks that wrapped around and struggled to contain her bust. Just as much flesh spilled over the thin material as was contained. She had a round, friendly, guileless face with a button nose, and curly red hair that fell down to her shoulders.


    ¡°Oh. Hi,¡± said Quentin, staring and already turning red. He made to stand up, but Samantha didn¡¯t let him. She closed the door behind him and crossed the pillows, lowering herself to straddle his lap without missing a beat. Quentin found himself pinned against the wall, face practically pressed into her cleavage.


    ¡°Otho said you requested me by name,¡± Samantha said. Her hands went to his shoulders, fingers sliding down his chest slowly. ¡°You¡¯ve got some good taste, but I think I¡¯d remember seeing you before.¡± She let out a giggle that by all rights should¡¯ve been annoying, but from her it seemed genuine. ¡°Who recommended me?¡±


    ¡°Um.¡± He tilted his head back. She was all smiles, with none of the playful wickedness Razia had shown. He squirmed against her, but she wasn¡¯t budging. Every move he made was met with a wiggle of her own. ¡°The guy up front. He said you --¡±


    ¡°He was right.¡± Samantha¡¯s hands ventured lower. She took Quentin by the wrists and guided his hands up to her breasts.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to ask about Razia!¡± Quentin pulled out of her grasp and gently but firmly pushed her away. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in you.¡±


    Samantha picked herself up from the pillows, looking hurt. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Quentin took a deep breath. He shifted in the seat, and with a second thought grabbed a pillow and put it in his lap. He wasn¡¯t fooling anyone, let alone Samantha, but it made him feel better. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for pushing you,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not here for that. I was told you know Razia.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not me, then?¡± she asked, voice barely above a whisper. To Quentin¡¯s surprise, she looked serious, and seconds away from tearing up.


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not you. You¡¯re very¡­¡± Quentin searched for the words. He looked down to the pillow in his lap. Samantha laughed. His face burned. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s not you.¡±


    That did the trick. Samantha crossed her legs and sat up. She leaned forward, hands on her ankles and watching him. She reminded Quentin of an overgrown kid finally starting to pay attention after being told off. ¡°Why d¡¯you want to know about Razia?¡± An overgrown kid, spilling out the front of her top.


    ¡°See, I met her last night and¡­¡± Quentin started, then stopped, thinking how to word it. In the end, he decided to be as honest as possible. ¡°I met her last night and she found out an embarrassing, dangerous secret of mine. I want to find her and ask her to just...Keep quiet. I¡¯m willing to pay, if that¡¯s what it takes.¡±


    ¡°Ahh,¡± Samantha said knowledgeably. ¡°You¡¯re into weird shit and afraid it¡¯s gonna get out.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Quentin protested, but it fell on deaf ears.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really pretty common,¡± she said, shrugging. ¡°And you got nothing to fear. Everyone is into something weird. It¡¯s perfectly normal, Mr. Q.¡±


    Quentin grit his teeth. ¡°I didn¡¯t...It wasn¡¯t...Look,¡± He said, covering his face with his palm and rubbing at his temples. ¡°It¡¯s something more private than that, even. Something...Something like a lot of people here. A job I did.¡±


    ¡°Ohhhh,¡± Samantha said. ¡°Yeah, no, you have nothing to worry about. We learn to be veeerry discreet here, Mr. Q. If we got caught telling on our clients, Mr. Otho would take a belt to us!¡±


    She sounded so chipper about it. Quentin shook his head. ¡°You can call me Quentin.¡±


    Her eyes got wide. ¡°Your name is Quentin!? I didn¡¯t know! That¡¯s how discreet we are!¡± Her shocked expression snapped back to normal and she let out a full body giggle.


    Quentin looked away before his face could catch on fire again. ¡°Pardon me for not trusting the place. Between threatening me and offering your head up on a platter, it seems a bit dodgy.¡±


    ¡°Wait, they what?¡± Her laughter died in a hurry.


    ¡°They thought I was going to kill you. You know, while we¡­¡± Quention waved his hand. ¡°To get off. You know, because I¡¯m a murderous freak and all. He demanded your weight in castura if I killed you.¡±


    While he felt a bit bad at the mix of shock and anger on Samantha¡¯s face, Quentin couldn¡¯t help but feel he was doing her a favor letting her know. She seemed too...Peppy and upbeat to be allowed to be hurt like that. She had to know.


    ¡°They WHAT?¡± Samantha¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes filled with tears.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but...Oh no. No, please don¡¯t cry,¡± Quentin said, holding up his hands. It was too late. Big, full bodied sobs wracked Samantha¡¯s body.


    ¡°How could he?¡± she moaned.


    Quentin reached over, hesitant before gingerly patting her shoulder. That¡¯s all she needed. Samantha turned and dove into Quentin, throwing her arms around him. Quentin froze, trapped against the wall once more in a very soft, surprisingly strong grip. She sniffed, but the sobs tapered off.


    After a few minutes of awkward silence, Quentin had to try.¡°I¡¯m really, really, sorry to have to tell you that,¡± he said carefully. ¡°But I need to know where I can find Razia. Can you tell me?¡±


    Samantha sniffled. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°We don¡¯t tell strangers how to find each other until we know they¡¯re safe. Sorry. And thank you,¡± she added, pulling away. She reached for Quentin¡¯s cloak and dabbed her eyes with it. He didn¡¯t try to stop her.


    After all of this, his search was done and he had nothing to show for it. Quentin wasn¡¯t about to try to push Samantha further. Not when he got the crying to stop. Well, that wasn¡¯t true. He had one thing to show for it. If Samantha was to be believed, Razia would keep his secret. Maybe she was just tweaking his nose to show how clever she was.


    Razia certainly seemed to be that friendly, and that warm. And if she was friends with this cream puff of a woman, maybe it was genuine. Maybe he had nothing to worry about at all. Well, one thing.


    ¡°Would you say you two are close friends?¡± Quentin asked. At Samantha¡¯s nod, he continued, ¡°Then I¡¯d like you to pass a message along to her, if you¡¯re willing. Tell her Quentin ran into the muggers from last night, and they¡¯re after her. She could be in danger.¡±


    Samantha nodded as he spoke. Her face lit up in a warm smile that made her red, puffy eyes almost disappear from the crease. ¡°No problem. You¡¯re really nice, for a moonkissed. I don¡¯t believe for a second that you would¡¯ve killed me while we fucked.¡±


    Anger and surprise flared, instantly sputtering out. She didn¡¯t know any better. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°And you shouldn¡¯t be sad at them being willing to let you die. You should be angry. You shouldn¡¯t have to worry about being sold out like that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Samantha climbed to her feet and helped Quentin up. ¡°I should let Otho have a piece of my mind!¡±


    ¡°You should.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna chew him out so bad, he¡¯ll...he¡¯ll¡­¡± She thought about it. ¡°He¡¯ll have bite marks!¡±


    Quentin forced a smile and clasped her shoulder. ¡°He won¡¯t know what¡¯s about to hit him.¡± If nothing else, the night let him have a conversation with someone new that didn¡¯t think he was a horrible monster. Samantha seemed sweet, if a little ditzy. Together they walked back to the entrance. Before they made it, Samantha stopped them.


    ¡°Hey, do you want to tell me how to find you and I¡¯ll tell Razia to look for you?¡± Samantha asked.


    Did he? Quentin wasn¡¯t sure. This had been a complete pain in the ass night, and it could be worthless if he didn¡¯t confirm that Razia would keep her mouth shut. But when it came down to it, did he even care if people came after him? Either he¡¯d enjoy the thrill of a struggle and win a fight for his life or he¡¯d die. That was his life, and would be until it suddenly wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°No,¡± said Quentin. ¡°No need to bother her for that. Just tell her that warning and¡­¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°Thank her for a lovely evening.¡±


    Samantha cupped his cheek and pinched it. ¡°You got it, Mr. Q."

 Chapter 11: Bounties

    Chapter 11: Bounties


    ¡°So I saw red, yeah? And the next thing I knew I stabbed my brother in the back, and then my hands were around my wife¡¯s throat,¡± said the prisoner, Adam Carrow. ¡°Before I could blink, it was over.¡±


    The executioner nodded, understanding without judging. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d heard that story and he doubted it would be the last. ¡°It was like someone else was in control and when you woke up, it was done and it felt like lightning was in your veins,¡± he said.


    Adam paused with a grape halfway to his mouth. ¡°That¡¯s exactly it. You¡¯ve experienced it then. It¡¯s a cruel joke,¡± he sighed, eating the grape and licking his fingers clean. ¡°Some other bastard did it, and I¡¯m the one sentenced to death. Is that fair?¡±


    Shrugging, the executioner said, ¡°Life¡¯s unfair. Death isn¡¯t.¡±


    Four days had passed since the search for Razia. Three days of rest and then his wound was well enough to go back to work. The executioner healed quickly; the secret to a successful career. This time, there was only one prisoner and plenty of time to talk. Adam Carrow was about the executioner¡¯s age, broad shouldered and tanned. He was in the prime of his life, and was no stranger to violence. The executioner was happy to trade some food and comfort in exchange for a good showing.


    ¡°What, because it comes for us all?¡± Adam shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s a cop out. My wife cheated on me, and chances are she¡¯s living it up in the Darkstar¡¯s gardens. When I die, what¡¯s to become of me? Do you think this was bad enough to become a shade?¡± The prisoner took a sip of winning, leaning against the bars of his cell.


    The executioner thought about it, then shook his head. Shades were stripped of their memories and barred entry from the Darkstar¡¯s domain. They wandered as spirits, never resting. Only the very worst faced an eternity without an identity. ¡°No. If anything, you¡¯ll spend time in penance. I¡¯d guess that you need a much higher body count to become a shade.¡± Like his.


    Adam let out a long sigh. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair. That whore cheated on me and died for it. I killed her and now I¡¯m going to die for it.¡±


    That word. It was a common enough insult, but now it sounded wrong to the executioner. No, that was silly. No reason to take offense. He shook his head. ¡°Unless you kill me. I have it on good authority I¡¯m sloppy and have a death wish. This could be your chance.¡±


    Adam blew a raspberry, laughing. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the executions before, mate. I know how it works. But maybe I can give you a little something to remember me by. As thanks for the hospitality.¡±


    It was the executioner¡¯s turn to laugh and look at the scars littering his arm. It was a blessing, being able to laugh and trade friendly barbs with a prisoner. Adam knew his fate and accepted it, and with an odd sort of courage the executioner respected and envied. Maybe it would change by the end, in the moments leading up to his death. He hoped not.


    There was a knock at the door. It opened, and a guard came in holding up rolled up parchment. ¡°I¡¯ve got a message for you, Butcher. This comes straight from Amicus, about the prisoner.¡±


    The executioner took it from him, and the guard left. He unrolled it and read it. ¡°Huh.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that? Am I getting a reprieve? Whoo!¡± Adam cheered.


    ¡°The opposite, I¡¯m afraid.¡± The executioner rolled it back up and set it on the table. ¡°There¡¯s a bounty for how you die.¡±


    Adam¡¯s smile disappeared. ¡°Oh. How do they want you to do it?¡±


    ¡°Dismemberment,¡± said the executioner evenly. ¡°I¡¯ll get an additional ten aquilos if I cut you into at least three pieces.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Adam burst out into disbelieving laughter. ¡°Who¡¯s paying it?¡±


    ¡°Your late wife¡¯s family. They want you to suffer, I¡¯d guess.¡±


    Adam shook his head, burying his face in his hands and rubbing at his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s more than the stingy bastards gave us for the wedding. Guess they¡¯re making up for that. I bet her mother suggested it. She never liked me¡­¡± Adam looked over at him. ¡°Are you going to take the bounty? You are, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    The executioner let out a short, bitter laugh. ¡°It basically doubles what I¡¯d get for you to begin with.¡±


    Adam whistled. ¡°I¡¯m in the wrong business.¡±


    ¡°Kill me and you can have the job. If you can keep it.¡± The executioner snorted. ¡°But that bounty...I want to make you an offer.¡±


    Adam stood, pacing in his cell. ¡°If it¡¯s ¡®cooperate and you¡¯ll split the money with me,¡¯ I don¡¯t think that really works for me. What with the whole being dismembered and dead part.¡±


    The executioner laughed again. ¡°Good guess. Close. If you want to fix the fight and put on a show and be dismembered, I¡¯ll give the bounty to someone of your choice. If you have family, I can have it delivered to them tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d give up ten aquilos?¡± Adam said, disbelieving. ¡°Just like that. Are you mad?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re about to die. I don¡¯t need any more money. I could walk away right now and live the rest of my life comfortably on what I have.¡± No, he couldn¡¯t. He may have had the money, but the executioner could never just walk away. He added, ¡°so if it helps keep your family comfortable and alleviates their grieving, then I want to help.¡±


    There was that look of disbelief again. And hope. Adam hadn¡¯t looked scared until the bounty came in, but now there was something like hope on his face. ¡°You¡¯d really do this? Then...My father¡¯s going to take this hard. He¡¯s old and is looking after my little brother. He could...He could use some help after I¡¯m gone.


    ¡°But I¡¯m not going to just give in,¡± he added. ¡°I¡¯m going to fight you and I¡¯m gonna try to see if I can dismember you instead. But...If I¡¯m losing anyway, and you got a clean shot? Go ahead and take it and give the money to my dad.¡± Adam gripped the bars with shaky hands. There was the fear. The realization.


    The executioner smiled. ¡°It will be done. You have my word. If it makes you feel better, I¡¯ll send the money before we fight.¡±


    Adam stared at him as if he grew a second head. ¡°And if you kill me before you hack me into pieces small enough to fit inside my mother in law¡¯s shriveled heart?¡±


    He got a shrug in response. ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m out tonight¡¯s pay. And your father and little brother will be able to get by without you. Financially, at least. No doubt they¡¯ll be lost without your colorful sense of humor.¡±


    The prisoner let out a deep, genuine laugh that tapered off into a shaky, swallowed sob. ¡°Thank you,¡± said Adam. He swallowed hard. ¡°Butcher?¡± he said, sounding small. ¡°I wish I hadn¡¯t done it.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said the executioner, not unkindly. ¡°I wish you hadn¡¯t too.¡±


    ¡°...Kin killer and wife slayer, avatar of rage!¡± Amicus¡¯ voice bellowed through the colosseum to a chorus of boos. The Colosseum was only half full that night. Or perhaps half empty. With only one execution and some of the less popular gladiators fighting, it was one of their off nights. But even their off nights still filled half the seats, the executioner noted with satisfaction.


    He stood across from Adam, axe in one hand, shield in the other. He wasn¡¯t much taller than the other man, but the arena was his. Most people looked small in comparison to the star. Adam himself wore battered leather armor with a dented helmet that covered everything but his mouth. He had an identical axe and shield at the executioner¡¯s insistence. He stood at the ready, though he couldn¡¯t stop himself from looking around the stands at all the people who came to watch him die.


    ¡°We present to you a final outlet for his rage! One last chance to strike back at a world he hates, one final contest to free himself and run loose in Orchrisus!¡±


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± the executioner called out. ¡°He¡¯s a bastard and just wants to get people riled. Keep your head on and fight well.¡±


    ¡°Y-you too,¡± Adam returned. He held his axe across his chest and bowed low. The executioner nodded to him and did the same. The moment he was bent in half, Adam launched himself forward and brought the axe down.


    ¡°FIIIIGHT!¡± Amicus screamed, a second later.


    The executioner twisted out of the way in time for the axe to come within inches of his mask. He stepped back, swinging and colliding into Adam¡¯s raised shield. Splinters flew as the fighters separated, circling one another. The executioner kept his eyes locked on his opponent, smoothly stepping sideways and waiting.


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    Adam feinted, like so many of his opponents tried. He raised his axe and moved as if he was going to attack and pulled back. The executioner didn¡¯t blink. Adam moved again, and this time the attack was real. He charged at him, weapon raised high. The executioner darted in and slammed his shield into Adam¡¯s helmet before the axe could fall.


    Instinct kept him moving, pressing the attack. Adam barely recovered in time to block. The heavy blade sank in the wood. The executioner shoved, but Adam held on. It left him open to the knee slamming into his gut. His armor absorbed some of the blow, but it was still enough to slow him. Once more the executioner¡¯s axe swung through the air. Adam twisted. The axe nicked his shield arm.


    The crowd screamed as Adam tripped over himself to get away, blood pouring from the wound. It wasn¡¯t enough to end the fight, but now it made it real. If Adam wasn¡¯t careful, he really was going to die. He seemed to realize it and went on a desperate offensive.


    Adam was nearly as big as the executioner and fit. What he lacked in skill and experience, he made up for in fury as he attacked, again and again. Any one of those blows would bite through the executioner¡¯s armor and possibly drop him if they hit. Attacks like that may have been hard and fast, but they were predictable.


    Years of training and fighting for his life made it into a dance. Adam would put his strength into the swing and the executioner would see the arc of the attack long before it went through. All he had to do was keep moving ahead of it. Life and death became the calm of a familiar and well practiced waltz.


    Not even a minute passed before the prisoner¡¯s attacks slowed and the dance shifted. One more dodged downstroke and the executioner struck back. A quick, sideways strike. Adam barely raised his shield in time. Splinters exploded between them. A sharp jerk back and half the shield came with it, falling from the executioner¡¯s axe.


    Adam lurched forward, slamming the broken shield into the meat of the executioner¡¯s arm. Pain flared hot and bright as the splinters bit into his flesh, and again when he pulled the shield out. The executioner let out a sharp hiss, tightening his grip on his axe through the pain. This was nothing. He¡¯d had worse during practice.


    It was back to circling one another. The crowd chanted, calling out the Butcher¡¯s name. Steady at first, but growing more fevered by the second. Adam panted heavily. His wounded shield arm dropped at his side, and he held his axe in a tight, white knuckled grip. The fight was about to end, for better or worse, and Adam knew it. So the executioner ended it.


    He stepped forward, lowering his shield and giving his opponent an easy target. Adam took the bait, raising his axe one last time. The executioner was faster. He swung his axe sideways, not at Adam¡¯s body but at his hand. His axe took the prisoner¡¯s hand off at the wrist. The hand, axe still in its grip, went clattering to the ground as the crowd went wild.


    Adam let out a pained, startled cry that ended short. He stood there, staring at the stump as blood gushed out. He looked up at his foe. Even through their helmets, the understanding was clear. This was over. This was their chance. The executioner struck out, planting his boot against the prisoner¡¯s chest and sending him sprawling backwards.


    He followed through, just as he promised. All of his strength went into the blow that took Adam¡¯s shield arm off at the shoulder. The metal clanged against the stone beneath him. At this point Adam was too weak to cry out, too tired to do more than writhe on the ground.


    ¡°The money is sent, as promised,¡± Quentin shouted to be heard over the crowd. He kneeled beside Adam, heart pounding with the thrill of victory. ¡°I¡¯m ending this. May the Darkstar welcome you into her embrace, my friend.¡±


    Calling Adam his friend hurt more than the splinters. The executioner jerked Adam¡¯s helmet back and took off his head. When he stood up, he brought the helmet with him, holding it up for the crowd¡¯s approval. Guilt struck him, as it often did when the fight was over. Friend, he said. Did Adam scoff at it before the Butcher killed him?


    It was true, though. At least on his end. As the crowd screamed his name, the executioner walked back down the ramp. He had a terrible habit of killing most of the people he could call friends. Either way, the job was done and with only a scratch to show for it. The executioner would live another day, and Orchrisus saw its justice done.


    ¡°The boss wants to see you,¡± one of the slaves said to Quentin. James, he thought his name was. Or was it John? After a fight, the fatigue caught up to him and made focus difficult. ¡°Up in his office.¡±


    Quentin finished wrapping the bandage around his arm. Salim stood nearby, watching but not helping. There was no need, with a wound that small. He¡¯d already pulled out the splinters for Quentin, the rest was his problem.


    ¡°What, he¡¯s not going to come down here and yell at me himself?¡± Quentin scoffed and tied the end of the bandage off.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a guest with him, and said to tell you it¡¯s urgent. He wants you up there as soon as possible,¡± said the slave, keeping his head low. Even after the killing was over and all the blood washed away, they wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe Demetrius was wrong about why they avoided him.


    ¡°Fine.¡± the executioner put his helmet back on and stormed out of the infirmary.


    Amicus¡¯ office was at the top of the Colosseum, not far from the box where he sat and provided commentary for the fights. It was a long, slow climb, and the executioner had plenty of time to think about what Amicus wanted and dread the meeting. As a rule, the executioner did everything in his power to avoid the owner and manager of the Colosseum. His father had been a good man who looked out for his employees. Amicus looked out for himself.


    By the time the executioner reached the door a dozen scenarios played out in his head, none of them ended well. He reached for the doorknob and hesitated. He knocked instead. ¡°Enter,¡± a strong, calm voice called out. The executioner entered and closed the door behind him. His breath caught in his throat upon seeing who the guest was.


    Sitting across from Amicus was Omar Faroukh, the supreme arbiter of Orchrisus. The most powerful man in the courts, and his direct boss. The executioner stood up straight. ¡°Arbiter,¡± he said, heart pounding worse than it had during the fight. His boss was there, and he was still dressed like a murderous nightmare. ¡°My apologies. If I knew you were waiting, I would¡¯ve made myself more presentable.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said Omar, standing up. The arbiter was a thin, middle aged Ramali man of average height. His skin was a rich, deep brown and his head shaved smoothly, save for some greying stubble around his temples. He had a calm, serene air about him and sharp, piercing eyes that missed nothing. ¡°If it mattered, I would¡¯ve sent warning. Please, join us.¡± He gestured to the other seat.


    The executioner sat down in the chair next to the arbiter, fingers digging into the arm immediately. He looked between Omar and Amicus, waiting for one of them to start speaking. Whatever it was, he didn¡¯t believe it was any good. Not with the smug smile on Amicus¡¯ round face.


    ¡°I was just telling the Supreme Arbiter about your...What did you call them again, Quintius? Your courtesies?¡± He snorted.


    The executioner¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Omar, straightening up in his seat. ¡°Amicus tells me that you go out of your way to do them a last kindness. And yet you almost never turn down a bounty. This intrigues me, and...Would you please take off your helmet?¡±


    Reluctantly, Quentin undid the chinstrap and pulled the helmet off. He grimaced and tucked the helmet under his arm. It was more an excuse to grip something than to keep it safe. Without his helmet, there was nothing between and the only two men who had real power over him.


    ¡°Much better, thank you,¡± said Omar, smiling pleasantly. ¡°This intrigues me. From what I understand, the bounties almost always involve inflicting more pain on the condemned. You feed your prisoners a good last meal, pass on a message, and then you mercilessly kill them in a way that gets you extra money.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t keep the money,¡± Amicus added. His smug smile grew even wider. He leaned back in his seat, fingers folded over his large belly. ¡°More often than not, it gets sent out with one of the Fleetfoot Couriers the Colosseum employs.¡±


    Omar nodded, turning his chair further to look directly at Quentin. ¡°Yes. Why?¡±


    The thought barely entered Quentin¡¯s head when it came tumbling out of his mouth. ¡°It makes the job bearable.¡± As soon as he said it he wished he could take it back and say any of the other dozen reasons he could think of.


    Evidently it was the right answer, for Omar cocked his head to the side. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. You¡¯ve been doing this for nearly ten years, is that correct?¡± At Quentin¡¯s nod, he pressed on. ¡°That¡¯s the second longest anyone¡¯s ever performed the job, if I¡¯m not mistaken.¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°Second only to the founder of the Colosseum, Gaius Volini. He made it fifteen years before the first prisoner to earn his freedom killed him in battle.¡±


    ¡°Exactly right,¡± Omar¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Are you saying that you¡¯ve performed this role second only to the originator, and you¡¯ve been miserable this entire time?¡±


    Between the question and the look on Amicus face, panic surged in Quentin. This was it. They were going to get rid of him. Amicus had been looking for an excuse for a while now, and now the arbiter was going to be the one to do it and make it sound like they were doing him a favor. Caught up in his thoughts, Quentin didn¡¯t realize he still hadn¡¯t answered until Amicus cleared his throat.


    ¡°Answer the arbiter¡¯s question, Quintius,¡± he said pleasantly, with a distinct edge underneath.


    ¡°Not miserable, sir,¡± Quentin managed with some difficulty. There were a dozen different answers he could have given, and none of them were coming out. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡±


    Omar inclined his head. ¡°Let me ask a simpler question, then. What do you like about your job?¡± His tone remained pleasant, even conversational. His eyes though, never lost their sharpness and never left Quentin.


    ¡°I like winning,¡± Quentin said immediately. This was indeed an easier question, and answering it was effortless. ¡°I like testing myself and coming out ahead. If I¡¯m good enough, I live another day. If I¡¯m not, someone gets a second chance and I don¡¯t have to bother with anything anymore.¡± Shit, that was too much answer.


    Not for the arbiter, who threw his head back and laughed. ¡°Good, good! I like that. Would it be safe to say that there is no chance you would ever throw a match or let someone beat you if you felt sorry enough for them? What about a bribe to your family? Similar to the deal you offer your prisoners.¡±


    Quentin shook his head vehemently. ¡°Absolutely not. I¡¯m not throwing any matches. If I¡¯m going to lose a match and die, it will be because they beat me. Besides, I have no one to give money to.¡± It wasn¡¯t as if his father would take any money from him. He made it perfectly clear what he thought of Quentin¡¯s blood money. ¡°Why do you ask, sir?¡±


    ¡°Someone attempted to kill the emperor,¡± Amicus answered. ¡°Just a few nights ago.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding,¡± Quentin said, eyes widening. ¡°What happened? Why isn¡¯t anyone talking about it?¡±


    Omar let out a dark chuckle. ¡°We¡¯re not in the habit of telling the populace of every failed assassination attempt. It would be too easy to sensationalize it. Most attempts are stopped well before they come close to succeeding. There¡¯s no need to tell anyone about it. The emperor¡¯s personal executioner takes care of it quietly and the world keeps on turning with no one the wiser.¡±


    Amicus leaned forward, clearing his throat. ¡°This time, they want to make an example of him. And they want to use our Colosseum to send that message in front of as many people as possible.¡±


    ¡°Tell me something, Quentin,¡± Omar¡¯s eyes glittered with interest. ¡°Have you ever killed a Savant?¡±

 Chapter 12: The Savant

    Chapter 12: The Savant


    ¡°Have you ever killed a Savant?¡±


    Excitement washed over Quentin. They wanted him to kill a Savant? ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he said. ¡°If I have, none of them could do anything big or splashy. I thought there was a specialized executioner for Savants.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Omar agreed, ¡°and Shapers and Speakers. She handles almost all of the executions for those with the gift. Most Savants aren¡¯t especially dangerous and have quiet abilities that aren¡¯t worth worrying about. For instance, the guard who sounded the alarm can see in the dark. It¡¯s estimated that one percent of the population is a Savant, with most of them having a tiny trick they can do. Seeing in the dark, perfect pitch while whistling, inability to get lost. Parlor tricks. Many people don¡¯t even know they¡¯re a Savant.¡±


    ¡°Some of them,¡± Amicus took over, ¡°are insanely dangerous. Which brings us to why you¡¯re here, Quintius. Some of them are dangerous enough to be too risky to let fight against someone with no protection against a magical assault. If we put you up against someone who can spit acid or mesmerize you, you¡¯d be dead and they¡¯d be walking free. The audience would love it, but then we¡¯d have to train your replacement.¡± He laughed, but it didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes.


    Omar cleared his throat, and both men turned back to him. ¡°The emperor wishes to see the man who would make an attempt on his life butchered in front of as many people as possible. His words,¡± Omar added, ¡°not mine. And after consulting with the lead Shadowspeaker, it was determined this would be safe enough.¡±


    ¡°There is,¡± Amicus interrupted again, standing and moving to the window overlooking the arena, ¡°the problem of your courtesies.¡±


    Quentin swallowed a lump. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Amicus let out a harsh, booming laugh. ¡°This man wasn¡¯t working alone. Any kindness you show him, any little favor you try to do could be used against you. The Shadowspeakers decided it would be safe for you to fight him and still have a chance of winning. Now we¡¯re trying to figure out whether or not your ¡®courtesies¡¯ are a security risk.¡±


    There it was. Amicus hated his courtesies. He hated anything even resembling mercy for fear it would make for a bad show. It didn¡¯t matter that Quentin¡¯s record was spotless, Amicus thought that any kindness was weakness. It was all about worrying if Quentin was too soft for the job, a decade and hundreds of successful executions later. More than that, he brought the supreme arbiter in on it.


    Amicus wanted to stop him from doing them entirely. This was just his way of easing into the idea. Quentin forced himself to relax. ¡°What do I need to do to prove I¡¯m not a risk?¡±


    Amicus opened his mouth, but Omar cut in. ¡°Do you have any reason you might be a security risk?¡±


    Once more, the answer came to Quentin instantly. Thoughts of Razia and her cursed smile as she walked away from him, leaving him with the knowledge that she knew. The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth, admitting to it. But now that time had passed, he was confident that she wasn¡¯t going to say anything. If she was, wouldn¡¯t it have happened by now. The words caught in his throat, coming out as an odd groan.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try this again,¡± Omar said. ¡°Do you want to fight a dangerous Savant?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± That one was easy. That fight was likely to be the most exciting he¡¯d had in years.


    ¡°Do you have anything that might interfere with your performance?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Is there any chance you could be blackmailed or intimidated into helping the prisoner in any way?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°No. I enjoy giving courtesies to men and women who have made a mistake and are paying for their lives. I don¡¯t give anything to rapists or child murderers. You can add attempted regicide to the list.¡±


    The two looked at each other. They were silent for a few seconds before Omar nodded. Amicus let out a sigh of relief and said, ¡°Then you¡¯re going to be fighting on the last night of winter. We¡¯re going to kick off the Blooming with this fight. We expect to be full to capacity, and then some.¡±


    Finishing off winter with a big execution event to kick off the Blooming? People would be lucky to be able to get near the Colosseum, let alone get a seat. The festival celebrating the start of spring was one of the biggest ones in the country. It celebrated the Pierced Heart, and for a full week Orchrisus came to big, bombastic, hedonistic life. A big execution just minutes before the first day of spring, and a Savant at that. This wasn¡¯t just going to be fun; it was going to be the biggest fight of Quentin¡¯s career.


    But for one small hesitation.


    ¡°What can this Savant do?¡± Quentin asks, coming back down to earth.


    Once more Amicus and Omar shared a look. Amicus grinned, looking genuinely excited instead of smug for a change. ¡°Why don¡¯t we show you?¡±


    At this hour, the audience and most of the staff had already gone home. Even so, Quentin felt naked walking down the halls with his helmet under his arm. The only people remaining were the guards who watched over the place at all hours, and the slaves scrubbing every square inch clean. ¡°What was his motivation?¡± Quentin asked.


    ¡°Typical Ramali radical,¡± said Amicus from the front. ¡°Thinks the empire needs to fall and all Ramali should go back to being nomads and living in shit-encrusted huts.¡±


    Quentin looked over to Omar, looking for a reaction. The Arbiter¡¯s expression was completely neutral. ¡°These groups pop up from time to time,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re misguided and destructive, but thankfully not very effective. Save for our assassin, Kassim Nadir. He got closer than anyone else in twenty years. He got as far as the emperor¡¯s quarters before we took him down. Another two minutes and the deed would¡¯ve been done.¡±


    The ramp led down to the main entrance. They continued on in a long loop, past the guards who parted for them, down to the holding cells. ¡°How many people did he take out during the attack again?¡± Amicus asked.


    Omar grimaced. ¡°Ten guards, a maid, and the emperor¡¯s pet dunewalla. Using his abilities, he slipped in unseen and killed silently, sticking to the shadows. It was bad luck on his part that the guard was also a Savant. Saw him and called in the alarm. It took five men fighting him at once to bring him down without killing him.¡±


    They arrived at the holding cells. The guard must¡¯ve been inside. ¡°So, what¡¯s his ability?¡± Quentin asked again.


    Amicus opened the peephole and gestured for Quentin to look. In the cage in the corner, the prisoner was laying down in the straw, seemingly asleep. A second later the air in front of the cage shimmered and there stood a short, wiry man. His skin was dark and he was lean and hungry looking, with furious, half-mad eyes and black hair that was short and wild. He bared white teeth at Quentin.


    ¡°What now? Another damned soul, ready to be sent to their death?¡± Kassim¡¯s voice was high, nasally, and breathy. ¡°Come then, and prepare to taste my steel!¡± He stomped towards the door, eyes growing wider and madder with each step.¡± Quentin closed the peephole.


    ¡°He¡¯s loose,¡± he said, moving away from the door. Quentin pushed Omar back, but the man held his ground and shook his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s an illusion,¡± said the arbiter. ¡°He can create an illusory double of himself. He used that to trick and overwhelm the guards. He¡¯s got a mouth on him and between that and the copies, it¡¯s very disorienting.¡±


    Amicus burst out laughing. ¡°Oh, you should¡¯ve seen your face, Quintius. Do you really think we¡¯d allow the prisoner to get loose? He paces outside his own cell all day, just to be irritating. Come on, let¡¯s get you introduced.¡± Amicus got out his keys and let them in.


    Quentin stepped in first, looking around the room. His stomach was in knots. Sure enough, there was the thin, whip-like man pacing back and forth in front of his cell like a trapped animal. He stopped and faced Quentin, snarling silently as he got closer.


    That snarl turned into a satisfied smirk. Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted. Something wasn¡¯t right. Where was the guard? He took a good look at the figure in the cell. He whirled around, ¡°He¡¯s loose!¡± he cried, just in time for Kassim to slam the door.


    Both men turned. There he stood, very much not in his cell, armed with the fallen guard¡¯s sword. He grinned, and both men tripped over themselves to get away. Then he attacked.


    The air around the Savant shimmered like the ground on a hot summer day. His form shifted and split into two, charging forward with their swords raised. One for each Amicus and Omar. Quentin didn¡¯t hesitate. He flung his helmet at the one going after Amicus and threw himself at the arbiter. He crashed into the older man just in time to take the hit for him.


    He¡¯d guessed correctly. The Savant¡¯s sword crashed down on his armor, splitting the chitin and making Quentin¡¯s teeth rattle. It stopped at the layer of padding underneath. The Savant yanked it out of the armor as Quentin shoved the arbiter further away.


    ¡°Guards, guards!¡± Amicus shrieked as he booked it for the door.


    Cursing, Kassim turned from Quentin and ran Amicus down. He got there as the heavyset man got his hands on the handle. His sword lashed out, taking Amicus in the back of the leg. He crumpled to the ground and only after let out a sharp, agonized scream. Kassim turned back towards Quentin.


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    ¡°Out of the way, moonkissed filth,¡± Kassim hissed. ¡°This doesn¡¯t concern you. Get out of the way and you may live. This imperial traitor must die.¡±


    Quentin got to his feet, eyes darting around for a weapon. All he had was his knife and though it was larger than most knives seen in the city, it wasn¡¯t going to do much against the stolen sword. The Savant had reach and his magic trick to use against him. Just the same, he drew it and shook his head. ¡°Not a chance. Drop the weapon and get back in your cell.¡±


    Kassim shrugged. ¡°I offered,¡± he said. Then the air shimmered once more and two of him came at Quentin.


    They moved as one, mirroring each other as they split up and pincered him. His heart jumped up into his throat as he realized he had absolutely no clue which one of them was the real one. Quentin took a chance on the one moving to his left. Kassim¡¯s mad eyes gleamed as the blade came down. Quentin went in low and slashed up, the knife hitting air as the copy disappeared.


    The real attack bit into armor and flesh and hacked off a chunk at his shoulder, along with some skin. Quentin sucked in air through his teeth as he moved with it, whirling away from Kassim and buying some distance.


    Kassim was no amateur. He didn¡¯t stop and gawk at his blow. He operated as if any hit he made wasn¡¯t good enough and needed a follow up. The momentum from the swing turned into a lunge, forcing Quentin to twist away from it.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to die,¡± Kassim¡¯s voice hissed from behind him while the man himself swung again. ¡°Give in! Watch out! Behind you!¡± the voice came from every direction, layered over itself as a copy sprang into existence just long enough to whisper before fading into another. The air was thick and wavy, like being in the middle of an armed mirage.


    Quentin barely got his arms up in time to stop the next swing. The metal bit into his bracers and then some. The impact shot straight up to his shoulders, just as jarring as the voices. Another cut added to his growing list of injuries. He grimaced; this wasn¡¯t looking good.


    Kassim knew it too. Without realizing it, Quentin had his back to the cells and nowhere to go. To his right, Omar was crouched in the corner. They made eye contact, and his eyes were wide with fear and shock. Quentin was right there with him. Kassim laughed, the sound echoing with itself as two copies appeared on either side of him, pinning the executioner in.


    Three swords came at him from three different angles. A wrong guess and he was dead. Hell, a right guess and he could still take a bad blow. There wasn¡¯t time for much. Quentin trusted his gut. He dropped to the floor and all three swords passed above him. He lashed out with a wild kick. One, then the other copy disappeared.


    The real one let out a cry and thrust. Quentin rolled to the side and kicked again, sweeping the Savant off his feet. His sword clattered to the floor. Quentin wasted no time in scrambling to his hands and knees and pouncing on Kassim. It was a good move that served him well in the past, salvaging a near loss and turning it into a victory.


    Kassim turned his momentum against him and Quentin found himself slamming hard on his back, the Savant sitting on his chest. He swung his knife but Kassim caught the blow and pushed down with all of his strength. The blade hovered between them as the men struggled.


    ¡°Let go. This is already over,¡± Kassim whispered in his breathy, hungry voice. ¡°Just let go and it¡¯ll be quick.¡± He laughed and once more it echoed.


    Quentin was bigger and stronger, but he was tired and his wrist burned from the cut. The knife hung there, not moving but his arms trembled. It was only a matter of time before his strength lost out against Kassim¡¯s weight. The double edged blade crept closer down to his face. This was it. It was either win or die.


    It wasn¡¯t a hard choice. Quentin slammed his head into Kassim¡¯s nose. His own blade bit into his cheek, but Kassim¡¯s assault faltered and that¡¯s all he needed. Quentin yanked the knife to the side and headbutt the ramali assassin again. Stars exploded behind his vision, but they didn¡¯t matter. He needed to win.


    He shoved Kassim off of him and followed through. He dropped the knife and grabbed a fistfull of oily black hair. Kassim opened his mouth as if to say something. That was when the executioner slammed his face into the ground.


    And again. And again. His skin was on fire where the cuts stung and lightning filled his veins. Kassim went limp and the executioner still slammed the man¡¯s face against the ground.


    ¡°Quentin. Quentin, stop! He¡¯s done, STOP!¡± Omar¡¯s voice cried out.


    Dimly, he realized he should listen. He held Kassim¡¯s limp form up by his hair. The man was out, but not dead. Not yet. His blood called for him to finish the job. Quentin bit back on that. He took a deep, shuddering breath and let him go. Blood pooled on the ground from where Kassim¡¯s nose broke. But he¡¯d live. Probably.


    ¡°Apologies, Arbiter,¡± Quentin grounded out. He stood on shaky legs. Adrenaline ruled him now, screaming that the fight wasn¡¯t over. Danger was everywhere, he needed to keep going, keep fighting. He swallowed it down. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Omar nodded, looking how Quentin felt. ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m fine. Amicus, you okay?¡±


    A low, weak sob escaped the man at the door. ¡°I can¡¯t stand,¡± he wailed, trying to get to his feet and collapsing as soon as he tried.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t,¡± the arbiter returned. ¡°We¡¯ll get you out of here. Quentin,¡± he nodded towards the Savant¡¯s unconscious form.


    Quentin nodded back. He grabbed Kassim by the ankles and dragged him back to his cell. He dumped him there, pulling the guard¡¯s corpse out before he closed it. The keys were still on him. ¡°He was waiting for you,¡± Quentin said, pointing at them. ¡°He could¡¯ve gotten out if he wanted to.¡±


    ¡°I fear you¡¯re right,¡± Omar said, going pale. His hands shook as he rubbed his smooth head, seemingly a nervous habit. Quentin couldn¡¯t blame him. Even sitting in the empire¡¯s highest court, he didn¡¯t imagine there were many direct attempts on his life. Not ones that got this close.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I can¡¯t get Amicus alone.¡±


    The aftermath of a fight, even an unexpected, deadly fight like that, was always a blur. The little details didn¡¯t seem important and rushed by as all the aches and pains finally caught up to Quentin and paid him back with interest. Dragging his overweight manager up the ramps until they found a guard might as well have happened to someone else.


    Naturally, no one heard the screams or any commotion. The night¡¯s skeleton crew was equipped to handle most condemned prisoners and trespassers, but it was likely the first time a Savant had been held there. They wouldn¡¯t make that mistake again. Not with the way Amicus screamed and berated the guards, who took over dragging him to the infirmary.


    Salim, who lived on site, took over from there, leaving Quentin to patch himself up for the second time that night. His cuts and bruises added up to a constant throbbing pulse of pain and exhaustion. The hangover of a fight was rarely this all encompassing. He was too wiped to feel self conscious as he stripped his armor off.


    ¡°You saved my life,¡± said Omar. The Arbiter had made sure Amicus was okay and receiving treatment, then came back to Quentin. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t been quick to act, I fear he would¡¯ve cut me down before I could¡¯ve blinked. Thank you.¡±


    Quentin wasn¡¯t used to being thanked or acknowledged at the best of times. Now that it happened, he found himself at a loss. He settled for a respectful nod as he wiped away blood from his face, wincing at the thin cut there. It wasn¡¯t bad enough to even need stitches, but it stung and would likely be yet another scar. It wasn¡¯t as if he could get much uglier.


    ¡°You don¡¯t speak much, do you?¡± Omar asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not good at it,¡± Quentin replied. ¡°No one tends to care what I have to say, and that¡¯s fine. I do my job and keep my head down.¡± He looked over where Amicus was being treated, still making noise and cursing at the nearest guard.


    ¡°It could be worse,¡± said Omar, following Quentin¡¯s gaze. ¡°You could yap endlessly to fill the silence. Tell me. What do you think of Amicus over there?¡±


    Maybe he was too tired to care, but once more he didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I loathe him. He has to get into everyone¡¯s business and it always makes things worse. The Colosseum would run better if he just stuck to funding it and commentating on the matches. We¡¯ve got the rest covered.¡±


    Omar nodded, deep in thought. He let Quentin work, cleaning half a dozen new cuts one by one. They sat in a companionable sort of silence until the next question came. ¡°Having seen what he can do, do you still want to fight him?¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°Yes. I beat him once already, didn¡¯t I?¡± In all honesty, he was looking forward to it even more. Kassim was dangerous. It would make for an excellent show.


    Omar laughed gently. ¡°You did. And I owe you a lot for it. I warned Amicus to make sure the guards knew of the danger, but it wasn¡¯t enough. That¡¯s my responsibility. I should¡¯ve known better and insisted.¡±


    What was Quentin supposed to say to that? He shrugged and ran the numbing gel over his shoulder. The cessation of pain was a relief like no other. He was almost down to the normal aches and pains after a fight. ¡°Now we¡¯ll know. Amicus will have to pay the guard¡¯s family for the death, and we¡¯ll do better.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay it. I should¡¯ve known better.¡± Omar''s lips thinned as he battled with something internally. ¡°I¡¯m a Savant myself,¡± he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Only a handful of people know.¡±


    Quentin paused. He believed him, but... ¡°Why are you telling me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Respect,¡± answered Omar. ¡°In the nearly ten years you¡¯ve worked for me, we¡¯ve only met a handful of times. We¡¯ve never needed to meet more, as you did your job well and I had no complaints. Amicus has been a bigger issue than you. You saved my life, and I fear I¡¯ve done you a disservice.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I get banged up all the time. It¡¯s part of the job.


    ¡°No, not that.¡± Omar almost sounded embarrassed. ¡°My gift. When I ask someone a question, they are compelled to tell me the truth. It¡¯s how I¡¯ve gotten where I am. It¡¯s made my job as an Arbiter smoother, if not simpler. And I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve coerced some answers from you tonight.¡±


    Quentin frowned, but the more he thought about it the more he made sense. It had almost been like someone else was answering for him. Omar saw the realization in Quentin¡¯s eyes as soon as he felt it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Omar said, ¡°if I wanted I could destroy your privacy and get any secret I wanted from you. I don¡¯t do that. Just the same, I regret the need for questioning you tonight. As you can see, security for this upcoming execution is critical. I had to be sure you were the right man for the job.¡±


    ¡°...And am I?¡±


    Omar laughed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be telling you all of this if you weren¡¯t. We were going to offer five percent of the night¡¯s take as a bonus. But I think we¡¯ll make that ten percent. As a thank you for saving my and Amicus¡¯ lives. Really, it¡¯s compensation for saving his. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s likely to thank you himself.¡±


    It was Quentin¡¯s turn to laugh. ¡°No, I think you¡¯re right about that. You don¡¯t need to thank me. It¡¯s just...Not part of the job, I guess. But it¡¯s not like I could just stand by and let him kill you. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°But I do,¡± Omar insisted. ¡°You saved my life, and I won¡¯t forget that. If you need something of me, you have but to ask.¡±


    Quentin thought about it. ¡°I would love to not have to walk home tonight,¡± he said.


    Omar¡¯s carriage was a smoother ride than a beetle cart, and it had the benefit of not having to share with anyone other than Omar himself. The arbiter was mercifully quiet on the ride to Quentin¡¯s home, and it let the executioner lean against the door and drift off to a pleasant doze for most of it.


    They dropped him off on the Boulevard, which suited him just fine. Carriages couldn¡¯t fit in the streets leading to his house anyway. The walk was pleasant enough. Tired as he was, Quentin needed some food and to double check his injuries before he allowed himself any real rest.


    He was deciding on what to make when he walked up to his gate. He fished his keys off his belt, and that¡¯s when he heard a voice from behind him.


    ¡°There you are. I was about ready to give up and try again tomorrow.¡±


    There, sitting on a bench in front of the fountain, was Razia Rashid.

 Chapter 13: The Damsel of Distress

    Chapter 13: The Damsel of Distress


    Razia Rashid loved Orchrisus, and had from the moment she first set foot in it. Out of all the major cities she¡¯d visited, it was easily her favorite. Nalak was an astounding achievement of how many people could live right on the water, but she grew up there. Greensborough was a lush paradise sprawling as far as the eye could see, but it was a flat sprawl and didn¡¯t have the same bustle a capital should have.


    Orchrisus, though, was larger than life. Orchrisus was colorful, and the people especially so. It wasn¡¯t just the gorgeous silks, dyed all colors of the rainbow or the hair and beards dyed to match. There was a liveliness here, born of equal parts dreams and desperation. Even in the darkest slums, the people were alive and fighting for dear life to get ahead, no matter how behind they were. She could relate.


    It was a place that accepted foreigners like her and made even her relatively unique appearance not stand out any more than those around her. At least, not in big crowds. There in the back streets leading to the Silk Lounge, being an islander and a woman with a shaved head, she might as well have glowed.


    Dozens of people were out and about, talking and laughing, cooking dinner over firepits, visiting with neighbors and playing music on their porches. Dozens of individual lives, all coming together as the sun set and the people shifted from hard work to hard play. Dozens of eyes following her as she passed, the way it was meant to be.


    Razia loved Orchrisus, and she loved the people in it. She loved being able to walk through any given street and have their attention the moment she wanted it. So many people fought to stay out of sight to avoid the attention of predators. Short, tiny, five foot nothing Razia revelled in it. She was not the kind of person to hide, even when it would be wise. Razia was entirely unsurprised when she realized she was being followed.


    They came after she passed them; five local youths sitting on the ground and playing dice. One of them had a brown dunewalla on a leash, chewing on a bone. It started as it often did, with just one man noticing her. His eyes locked on as she glided down the street in just a tight green top and a short skirt that rippled with the cool evening breeze. At some point his eyes stopped roaming and he made a choice. He got up and went after her, friends trailing behind him.


    Razia pretended not to notice, but excitement made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. His sandals crunched the sand beneath them not far behind her in a steady, even pace. He wasn¡¯t trying to get closer. Not yet. Razia shifted her weight and put some more sway in her walk. She looked over her shoulder.


    Her admirer was in his late teens, old enough to know what he wanted and young enough to still have something to prove. He looked up from Razia¡¯s ass to her smirk. His face reddened. She looked away and counted to three. A long, hurried step followed each number and on three the teen was walking right beside her.


    ¡°You¡¯re the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± he said loudly. Behind him, his friends snickered. He shot a look back at them, and then stared expectantly at Razia.


    ¡°Mmm,¡± she said, smirk growing. ¡°Probably. It¡¯s still nice to hear though.¡± Her eyes flicked over to his for just a second. It was just long enough to make his face turn red and give him ideas, and then her eyes were back on the road ahead of her.


    ¡°Where are you going, baby?¡± The kid tried again, forcing some bravado into his voice. ¡°Why don¡¯t you stick around for a while? We¡¯ve got some booze. We could all have a good time.¡± There was an edge there now. A hint of real danger. There were five of them, and only one of her.


    ¡°I¡¯m the most beautiful woman you¡¯ve ever seen, and you¡¯d share me?¡± Razia scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re generous to your friends or just admitting you¡¯re not enough for me.¡±


    Behind them, his friends laughed again. The sound was closer now. The end of the street was in sight, but now the teen¡¯s face was a bright purple. The cocksure smile he¡¯d plastered on now an offended grimace. ¡°I¡¯m more than enough for you. What¡¯s it going to take to get you to stay, beautiful? How much?¡±


    Razia¡¯s laughter bubbled out, low, throaty, and rich. She couldn¡¯t help herself. ¡°You couldn¡¯t afford me, kid,¡± she said, pure mirth in her voice. At the laughter behind her she added, ¡°But you¡¯d still pay half what your friends would.¡± The laughter died.


    Antagonizing people in this kind of neighborhood wasn¡¯t the smartest thing she could¡¯ve done, but Razia didn¡¯t care. It was half the fun. There were five men there, all bigger than her, stronger than her, and better armed. Anything she said to them could be punished tenfold, but that was part of the game. It wasn¡¯t fun if she wasn¡¯t dancing along the razor¡¯s edge. Besides, she had this under control.


    ¡°I think you hurt their feelings,¡± the kid beside her said. His voice was practically buzzing with excitement and hunger. ¡°If you¡¯re not careful, they¡¯re gonna make you swallow those words.¡±


    ¡°Is that what they¡¯d make me swallow?¡± Razia looked at him again. She smiled then, wide and confident. ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°My cock,¡± he leered.


    Razia sighed. ¡°See, that¡¯s the problem with boys your age.¡± Not much further now. ¡°You don¡¯t enjoy the build up. You just open with your cock and think that¡¯s good enough. No, I think you¡¯re going to have to swallow each other¡¯s cocks tonight. I¡¯m a little busy.¡±


    She put on an extra burst of speed, not running but hurrying past the invisible line that separated this neighborhood from the next. She might as well have bolted for how they reacted. Loverboy grabbed her by the arm and his fingers dug into her skin badly enough to hurt. The others collapsed in on her, surrounding her. Hands went to her hips, her shoulders, showing her they could do whatever they wanted to her and she was powerless to stop them. Savoring what fear they could. It was about what Razia expected.


    ¡°Why?¡± One of the other boys said with a grin. ¡°We¡¯re gonna keep you busy all night long, slut.¡±


    The pack was good and hungry by then and ready to go for the kill. So was Razia. ¡°Hi Allen!¡± she called out.


    The tall, middle aged guard strode towards her, hand going to a curved blade at his waist. His eyes were focused on the men around her and he wore a dreadful scowl that belied how great his smile was when he laughed. He got closer, and the teens around her took a collective step away from her. ¡°You alright? These boys giving you any trouble?¡±


    Fear flashed bright and intense on the head boy¡¯s face. Razia shook her head. ¡°Not at all, Allen. These nice boys were just giving me an escort to work. Weren¡¯t you?¡±


    The gang looked at each other with bewilderment before one of them murmured an agreement and the rest joined in. Razia reached up and cupped Loverboy¡¯s cheek and gave it a pat. She let her fingers trail over his skin as she left him behind, walking arm in arm with Allen to the Silk Lounge.


    ¡°You starting shit again, Razia?¡± He asked in a low voice.


    ¡°Always,¡± she replied, smiling.


    Allen shook his head. ¡°Otho¡¯s been pissy the past few days. If you bring fights right to his doorstep, he¡¯s going to lose his shit and you don¡¯t deserve the kinda crap he¡¯d do to you.¡±


    ¡°If he tries, you¡¯ll protect me, won¡¯t you?¡± Razia looked up, giving her best sad, vulnerable eyes.


    Allen laughed and gave her a gentle shove. ¡°I¡¯d just as soon not have to, thank you,¡± he replied. There was just enough warmth there for Razia to believe he¡¯d hesitate, at least, before doing anything to her. It was a good start. Razia squeezed Allen¡¯s arm and stepped inside.


    As far as houses of vice went, the Silk Lounge wasn¡¯t awful. The decor was garish and laughable, but it meant that the clientele at least pretended to go along with a code of conduct while there. The majority of them were violent, unruly, sex-mad drunks, but most of them followed the rules and those who didn¡¯t ended up as reminders for why you should. Good men didn¡¯t come here. They were dangerous, but like all people they could be handled.


    The lobby was busy as Razia entered. Four men stood in line to be checked in. Otho stood off to the side, talking animatedly to Janice, the head of security. Razia slipped behind him past the front desk. ¡°...don¡¯t care what it takes, the next time one of them gives me lip¡­¡± she heard as she passed and climbed the stairs up to the dressing room.


    Ostensibly, the Silk Lounge was meant as a general hangout for the local criminal element. It started out as a place for drinks and peaceful negotiations between feuding gangs. Safety and alcohol was what they offered. In time that expanded to drugs, food, and of course, sex. The Silk Lounge was safe, more or less. If nothing else Razia knew she would be safe. Mr. Cicero had promised that much.


    The dressing room, Razia had to admit, was decent. There were a dozen stations where the two dozen or so girls made themselves up. Each one had a vanity with three mirrors, with jars of make-up lined up around the edges. Most nights, it was busy with girls getting ready and chatting. The sounds of laughter and jeers went back and forth as girls rotated in and out. Not tonight. Tonight, there was an oppressive hush, broken only by murmurs.


    ¡°Hey,¡± said Razia, sitting down at the vanity next to Samantha. The plump redhead was staring into the mirror blankly.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± she said dimly, turning to face Razia. Her eyes were puffy and red, and there was little life in her. Razia¡¯s stomach twisted.


    ¡°I know you,¡± Razia said. ¡°Something happened. What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Our beautiful, brilliant Samantha picked a fight with Otho.¡± Isa leaned against Razia¡¯s chair, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Isa was a tall, slender, dark skinned dusk-girl, partway through her transition. ¡°And then continued to pick it the last two nights.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s face screwed up as if she was going to cry. The woman was sweet, but she cried at the drop of a hat. Razia leaned forward and threw her arms around her. Samantha leaned into it gratefully. ¡°What happened, Sam?¡±


    This time, she did burst into tears, sobbing directly into Razia¡¯s shoulder. Isa sighed, but Razia just patted her on the back. Eventually, words came out. ¡°A-a-a man came by wanting to see you, but you weren¡¯t here so Otho said we were friends. And-and-and then he was going to sell me to the man to be killed!¡±


    Razia blinked. That was a new one. She pulled back but kept her hands on Samantha¡¯s shoulders. Her face was a splotchy mess, and now that she was crying the makeup covering her black eye ran. ¡°What?¡± Razia asked, though she wasn¡¯t sure if she meant being sold or the shiner her friend was hiding.


    ¡°He said he was a friend of yours! And he didn¡¯t kill me or anything --¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Isa muttered.


    ¡°B-b-but Otho thought he would and that¡¯s what matters! It was this nice moonkissed man, Quentin, he --¡±


    ¡°Albino,¡± Razia corrected immediately. ¡°Not moonkissed. He hates that word.¡± Then surprise caught up with her. Quentin was here, looking for her? She suppressed a smile. He may have turned her down, but that didn¡¯t mean things were over. Maybe her little tease had done the trick after all. ¡°Quentin came here to find me?¡±


    Sniffling, Samantha nodded. ¡°He wanted me to pass on a warning to you.¡±


    A warning? That intoxicating sense of danger was back. Like getting ready to jump in shark infested waters, or walking by a group of teens who wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer. The executioner of Orchrisus was at least as dangerous as either of those. Razia shivered, a wide smile taking over her face. ¡°What did he say?¡±


    ¡°He said¡­¡± Samantha wracked her brain. ¡°The muggers from last night are looking for you. He ran into them and said you¡¯re in danger.¡± She let out a sigh, deflating. Seeing herself in the mirror, Samanatha cringed and got a cloth to wipe away the runny makeup. Her tears had died down to just sniffles now.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Muggers? Who is this man and what happened?¡± Isa asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s...A friend, I think,¡± said Razia. Did this mean she was wrong? No, she was sure of it. The pieces all added up together too well. Razia knew she was capable of being wrong, but she had enough confidence in herself to stamp it down. He was definitely the executioner. And apparently looking out for her, if he sought her out just to warn her. Yes, Razia could probably consider him a friend.


    ¡°He escorted me from the Colosseum down to the Boulevard the other night. We ran into some trouble and he got us out of it. And then he came here, apparently. Sam, how do you know Otho was planning on letting him kill you?¡±


    ¡°He told me. Quentin, I mean.¡± Samantha dabbed at her eyes. ¡°So when he left, I gave Otho a piece of my mind, and he hit me!¡±


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Razia breathed, ¡°that was a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Mouthing off to Otho always is,¡± Isa said. ¡°He let her rant for five minutes before he popped her and told her to get back to work.¡±


    ¡°Oh no no no,¡± Razia said louder, shaking her head. ¡°Otho¡¯s going to regret that.¡±


    Razia would be the first to admit she was something of a hothead. It wasn¡¯t always the best quality to have in a profession based on serving others, but some things she couldn¡¯t let go. The best she could do was refine it. There came a certain level of anger where the anger burned cold and cruel. Surprisingly, this was the anger that got her in the most trouble, but it got shit done. That¡¯s what she needed right now.


    ¡°Just let it go,¡± Isa said. ¡°Give it a week and he¡¯ll forget all about it. You can leave then.¡±


    ¡°The hell I will,¡± Razia said. She was on her feet, her body moving fast enough the rest of her had to catch up. ¡°That greasy asshole is finished. Pack your shit. We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s big blue eyes were wide with surprise, and then excitement. She grabbed her bag and shoveled in a couple jars of makeup and some cheap necklaces hanging from the side of the mirror. She stood up looking equal parts excited and scared.


    ¡°This is a bad idea,¡± Isa said, but she packed up as well. At this point they caught the attention of the rest of the room. What little hushed conversation remained died and all eyes were on Razia.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± An olive skinned woman named Maria asked, looking towards the door like Otho himself was going to waddle in there and begin thrashing them.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Razia said. She looked around the room. ¡°Anyone who doesn¡¯t want to work for a man willing to let them die should come with me. If he did it once, he¡¯ll do it again. The only question is the price he¡¯d charge for your life.¡±


    There was silence for an agonizing ten seconds, and then more than half the room gathered what they could and stood up. Half of those remaining were slaves. There was nothing Razia could do about them. The free women still sitting were capable of making their own choices and weren¡¯t her problem anymore.


    ¡°Why should we go? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s any safer out there. Besides, it was Samantha¡¯s fault for picking a fight with him in front of his men.¡± A thin, bony woman named Gina said, crossing her arms over her chest.


    Razia shrugged. ¡°Then stay, I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m not letting anyone, especially not Otho, treat my friends this way.¡±


    Gina scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s not going to let any of us go.¡±


    Razia bared her teeth in a fierce grin. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    Their footsteps arrived before they did, thundering as they came down the stairs. Otho, Janice, and the other guards were waiting, looking up at them as Razia descended. Otho¡¯s lips were pressed in a thin, hard line and his face was turning reddish purple.


    ¡°What¡¯s this? What¡¯s going on here?¡± he started, full of bluster.


    ¡°Move.¡± Razia barked. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Janice let out a low whistle. ¡°Oh, this is going to be fun.¡± She pushed off the wall she was leaning against, one hand going to the knife at her hip but she didn¡¯t draw it yet. Janice had the look of a cat eyeing a mouse.


    Razia pushed past Otho, head held high. The proprietor let out a startled squeak. His hand shot out and latched onto her wrist, stopping her while the girls continued to the doors.


    ¡°Guards, stop them! You¡¯re not going anywhere.¡± The guards at the door shared a baffled look and positioned themselves in front of the twin doors, spears crossed. They were used to enforcing the rules on the clients. It was rare they were directed at the girls, and one of them looked distinctly uncomfortable.


    ¡°Our lives are not yours to sell!¡± Razia screamed into Otho¡¯s face. He stumbled backwards a step, releasing her arm. Razia looked around, heart pounding and breathing going ragged. It was important to make a scene, make some noise. The hard part was not losing control. ¡°You thought you should push us around? Try again. We¡¯re done. Find new girls, or enjoy blowing dozens of men every night.¡±


    Otho took a deep breath and let it out, fighting to keep his composure. He spoke through gritted teeth, saying, ¡°I¡¯m assuming this is over Samantha, crying over nothing. Like usual.¡±


    Samantha, from her safe spot behind Razia, thrust an accusatory finger at him. ¡°I-i-it¡¯s not nothing! You thought he was going to kill me and you were okay with it!¡±


    Otho rolled his eyes. ¡°And he didn¡¯t, did he? By all rights you should be a slave with how much money you owe Mr. Cicero. You should be grateful to live this well.¡±


    All of them began talking at once, growing louder and louder. Beside Otho, Janice shook her head, laughing silently at all of them. The noise did the trick and attracted the patrons. Heads began peeking around the corner from the hallways on either end of the foyer as men abandoned their nooks and investigated the source of the commotion.


    That¡¯s what Razia was waiting for. There wasn¡¯t any convincing men like Otho. Men who viewed others as property weren¡¯t going to be reasoned with, and Razia didn¡¯t have anything credible to threaten him with. That didn¡¯t mean she was powerless. Unlike Otho, she knew the value of the girls working for him. She¡¯d been stockpiling up the greatest resource a place like the Silk Lounge had: information.


    ¡°You are a pathetic, honorless rat who would sell your own mother for a qala,¡± Razia spat out. More people filled the doorway. Dangerous men and women Razia recognized by now. The Silk Lounge¡¯s dangerous, touchy clientele. She fought to keep the smile off her face. ¡°Why should I be surprised you¡¯d sell out one of your girls? You sell out the clientele constantly.¡±


    All at once, the bickering stopped. Silence dropped, heavy and tense as the people assembled realized what she said. It started with a whisper in the back, spreading from man to man. It was a spark, and one Razia was going to fan into flames and burn the bastard with.


    ¡°How. Dare. You.¡± Otho seethed. His teeth were grit and his shoulders squared, but his eyes flitted to the men beside them.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Janice said, drawing her knife. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for you to get the fuck out of here and for the rest of you ladies to go back upstairs.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s used you too, Janice,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°I know,¡± Janice sneered. ¡°It¡¯s called having a proper job, sweetheart.¡±


    Razia smiled. ¡°And how did you get that proper job? It was right after your last client disappeared, right?¡± She reached back for Samantha¡¯s hand and squeezed it. Her pulse was pounding in her head as excitement swelled up. No one ever really took notice of the girls, even when they were around. People were always willing to talk in front of the entertainment, too arrogant or ignorant to realize that the girls talked among themselves. Some had to be coaxed for some of their secrets, but Razia was more patient than anyone gave her credit for.


    Janice hesitated. That was all Razia needed to push. ¡°You were in town passing through with the caravan you were hired to protect.¡±


    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± Otho said loudly. Janice silenced him with a raised finger.


    ¡°Your boss came in here and treated you all to a night of entertainment, right?¡± Razia continued, voice still raised for the people in the back. ¡°Just a few nights while he did business, before you guys were ready to leave. He never showed up the next morning, right? Otho needed replacement security and your men got on well with the guards already here. So he made sure you were unemployed.¡±


    Otho paled. Razia didn¡¯t have the exact story, just pieces. It didn¡¯t matter if it were true or not, it was true enough to make him nervous. ¡°That¡¯s a lie! I have no idea how Jaxon died and he --¡±


    ¡°Died?¡± Janice turned her predatory gaze on him. ¡°I thought he ran up a gambling debt and ran for his life.¡±


    ¡°T-this is Orchrisus,¡± said Otho, forcing a laugh. ¡°He probably tried to run and died in a gutter after. You and your men just happened to be a good fit.¡±


    ¡°Convenient, isn¡¯t it?¡± Razia pushed. ¡°The gambling was real, and it was a perfect opportunity. An entire mercenary troupe who already liked the place and could be paid in room, board, booze and bitches to just...Stay and keep an eye open while you indulge yourselves.¡±


    Otho positioned himself between Razia and Janice. He held his hands up, smiling nervously. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously listening to her, are you? She¡¯d say anything.¡±


    Janice stared both of them down, her sharp face an impassive mask while she thought about it. The whispers in the crowd only grew as the show continued. ¡°I wasn¡¯t before now,¡± Janice said. ¡°But she¡¯s making an awful lot of sense.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s lying! Remove her at once and we¡¯ll talk about this.¡±


    Otho was finished. He just didn¡¯t know it yet. Razia looked out into the crowd. She pointed over at a common hood she recognized. ¡°Benny!¡± she called out. Dozens of heads turned to face him. ¡°You remember when you stole those fine mooran rugs and someone found your hiding place? Otho was listening in on your private room and sold that information to Big Ren over there,¡± she pointed to a short, rat-like man on the other end of the room.


    ¡°WHAT?¡± Benny roared.


    That one was a blatant lie, but it didn¡¯t matter anymore. It could¡¯ve been true. Maria was the one who heard about the stolen rugs. She¡¯d talked about it as she complained about how sloppy drunk and rough Benny and his boys got that night. Those rugs could¡¯ve been stolen by anyone. Why not make it someone Benny hated?


    ¡°Head¡¯s down girls, and get ready,¡± Razia muttered.


    ¡°What?¡± Samantha looked around wildly just as all hell broke loose.


    Benny charged forward, bellowing. Samantha, Isa, Maria and the rest of them ducked out of the way, piling in around the front doors the guards were still blocking. Big Ren pointed and shouted and one of his (much bigger) lieutenants came out swinging. That¡¯s all it took for the dozens of dangerous, hotheaded criminals to start brawling in the foyer. The guards blocking the girls took all of three seconds to decide the fight was more important than keeping a group of prostitutes in place.


    ¡°Janice, get this under control,¡± Otho squealed.


    ¡°You fucking joking, mate? You and I need to renegotiate our relationship.¡±


    Razia pushed the door open and the girls poured out of the doors and into the night. She slammed the door and ran after them, laughing with manic joy. Isa shot her a disbelieving look but no one said much of anything as they ran as far from the Silk Lounge as fast as possible.


    They stayed together in a group, hardly saying anything until they reached the safety of the Boulevard. The sun had set and now night began in earnest. They stopped in front of the statue of Saint Trassius, and the weight of what they¡¯d done caught up to them.


    ¡°Gods,¡± Isa groaned. ¡°What the hell did we let you talk us into? There¡¯s no way Otho¡¯s going to forget and forgive after this.¡±


    ¡°Forget Otho,¡± Maria griped. ¡°He¡¯s an asshole, but the pay was steady. What now? Rent is coming up and my daughter is counting on me.¡±


    A chorus of agreements sounded through the group, sans Samantha who stayed quiet and looked thoughtful. Razia held her hands up and the voices died down again. ¡°I know how scary this can be, but you don¡¯t need to worry about it. The night¡¯s young, there¡¯s plenty of places around here to get some steady work, and I promise you Otho¡¯s going to be pissed at me and not you. So here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do.


    ¡°Split up in groups of two or three. Some of you take The Drunken Dunewalla, some of you go over to Maggie¡¯s Den, and the rest can probably find some work over at Moonlit Madness. It¡¯s a nice night, and if you dance with each other, people are bound to notice and cut in. Sound good?¡±


    After a second of hesitation, the murmured consensus was that it was acceptable. ¡°What about you?¡± Isa asked. ¡°You caused a riot in one of Mr. Cicero¡¯s places. You going to be finding the first caravan out of town?¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°No, this is nothing. Mr. Cicero won¡¯t hear about this for at least another few hours. I¡¯ll be fine. Probably. Don¡¯t worry about me. Meet up here again tomorrow night and we¡¯ll figure out something more permanent.¡±


    That was acceptable to them. The girls scattered in small groups and put more distance between them and the Silk Lounge. All of them except for Samantha, who didn¡¯t move an inch. Razia cocked her head to the side.


    ¡°Otho,¡± Samantha began, wetting her lips. ¡°He was right. My family owes a pretty big debt to Mr. Cicero. Otho was taking half of what I was making to pay that debt off. What if they come after me?¡± The poor thing was all but shaking.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Sam,¡± Razia said, pulling the bigger woman in a hug. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of that, I promise. We¡¯ll deal with that debt together. And I won¡¯t let them punish you for my actions tonight. I¡¯ve got a plan.¡± Another lie, but give it a few hours and she¡¯d have something. Unfortunately, dealing with the damage was nowhere near as fun as starting the fire.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got a room not far from here. Go to Inn and Out and say you¡¯re with me. Get yourself a good meal and take the night to kick back and relax.¡±


    Samantha nodded, relief washing over her face. ¡°Thanks Raz. You¡¯re the best. What are you going to do?¡±


    Razia grinned. ¡°Well, if Quentin went to all the effort to find me and give me a warning, it¡¯s only right I thank him for it, right? I think there¡¯s something sensitive he wants to talk about.¡±


    ¡°Ahh,¡± Samantha said. ¡°His big secret. Give him a hug from me? For warning me too.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing. Of course,¡± Razia added, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling up inside her, ¡°I don¡¯t think I can smother him the same way.¡±


    They shared a good laugh. Samantha hugged her one last time and headed east. Razia watched her until she was out of sight and set out towards where they last parted. There would be consequences to deal with later, but for now it was time to deal with the consequences of the last time she prodded a dangerous man.

 Chapter 14: Naked and Afraid

    Chapter 14: Naked and Afraid


    ¡°There you are. I was about ready to give up and try again tomorrow.¡±


    There, sitting on a bench in front of the fountain, was Razia Rashid.


    The aches and pains of the night thrummed. It was as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water over Quentin, leaving him painfully awake and shaky. She not only knew who he was, but where he lived. What else did she manage to uncover in just a few days? Who else knew?


    ¡°Sorry for dropping in on you like this. I knew you were working tonight, so I came by around the same time we bumped into each other and waited.¡± Razia stood, brushing her skirt off and hefting a reed basket up to her side. ¡°I¡¯m glad you made it home and didn¡¯t¡­You know.¡± Her smile was wide and wicked as she closed the distance.


    Quentin fought the instinct to back away from her. Everything in him screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go. He settled for freezing in place, swallowing a growing lump in his throat. ¡°What...What are you doing here?¡± He choked out.


    Razia¡¯s low, throaty laughter made his face burn. ¡°You came looking for me, didn¡¯t you? Samantha passed on your message. I appreciate the warning, but that wasn¡¯t the reason you came looking for me, now was it?¡±


    Quentin slowly shook his head. His racing thoughts swirled around him like a sandstorm. A mixture of fear, excitement, and to his disgust, a horrible fixation on how beautiful she was. There she was, a tiny woman with a big smile, possibly the biggest threat to his life in memory, and all Quentin could do was gape. If she looked good the night they met, it was nothing compared to now.


    Razia wore deep red silks, wrapped around her small chest and winding around her hips and legs, as if one good pull would unravel it all. Her eyes were lined with a solid green, standing out against her dark skin. The moonlight glinted off her silver jewelry, twinkling when she moved. Quentin realized he was staring when she arched a brow at him.


    ¡°Hey there,¡± she said, laughter in her voice. ¡°You still with me?¡±


    Quentin shook his head clear. ¡°Y-yeah. Sorry. I...You...It¡¯s been a long night. How did you find me?¡±


    She shrugged, somehow making it a full body motion. ¡°I went to where you wanted to drop me off and looked for all the grocers within a half mile. I focused on the pricer ones and asked about customers who use Fleetfoot shoppers. One of them pointed me in this direction, and it turns out one of your neighbors is a sometime client of mine. He was happy to point out your house if I would leave before his wife saw me.¡±


    Quentin gawked at Razia. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m good at finding information." Razia motioned to the door. "You going to invite me in? It¡¯s nice out, but I can¡¯t help but think you would prefer some privacy if we¡¯re going to talk.¡±


    Quentin snapped out of it. Grabbing his keys from his belt, he grunted an affirmative and opened the gate. Razia murmured a thanks and walked past him, through his garden and right into his home. Quentin trailed behind her wordlessly.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± said Razia, craning her head to look around. Quentin¡¯s villa was dim, lit up by a couple of lamps burning low and in an open atrium. In the low light, his empty home looked endless, doors just barely out of sight. ¡°This is quite the place you¡¯ve got here, Quentin. Doing pretty well for yourself?¡±


    He grunted an acknowledgement. ¡°I want for nothing,¡± he said, voice flat. He turned up the lamps to a gentle glow. Door after door of empty, unused rooms sat on the edge of that light. They were like faces, watching in the dark.


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Razia replied, turning around and taking it all in. ¡°Everyone wants something. What do you want, Quentin?¡± Her voice dropped to something softer, less flippant.


    ¡°For starters?¡± Quentin said, ¡°Fine, you found the Butcher. How? What tipped you off?¡±


    ¡°Other than covering your face, you weren¡¯t doing much to hide it, honey.¡± She didn¡¯t laugh out loud, but he saw it in her eyes. ¡°I saw the executions from one of the close seats. The man sitting next to me said it was just one of the gladiators painted and in costume, but I knew that couldn¡¯t be it. When you were moving around and fighting, the only thing on you was dirt and blood. There¡¯s no way you were getting that rough and tumble without costume paints running. Trust me, I know.¡±


    ¡°You knew? Just from that?¡± There was no way. There were theories, most of them lunacy, about who he was. The only story about his ¡°paint¡± Quentin could recall was that he took the ashes of his victims and blended them into his paint as he killed for his next set of paint. He actually kind of liked that one.


    His disbelief must¡¯ve shown. Razia looked closely at him, stepping around and looking him up and down. ¡°No, there was more. You¡¯re a big man. Not the biggest I¡¯ve seen, but you stand out. When you¡¯re wearing your cloak you slouch, but it doesn¡¯t hide how big you are. It makes you stick out even worse.¡±


    His stomach twisted. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia. ¡°You made it clear you worked in the Colosseum. So you could¡¯ve been a number of people. But I don¡¯t imagine too many people work closely with the prisoners. A practice dummy wouldn¡¯t, but a medic?¡± Razia¡¯s face lit up with excitement. She was circling him now, he realized. Like she could go in for the kill at any time.


    ¡°Maybe a medic. You did say you worked in the infirmary. But still, most medics aren¡¯t built like you. I was pretty sure, but then your leg gave out. That¡¯s when I knew for sure.¡±


    Quentin deflated. ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of.¡± She¡¯d hid her reaction perfectly. Or maybe Quentin just wanted to believe she didn¡¯t know. He covered his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyes.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, putting some strength in his voice. ¡°Executioners are anonymous for a reason. If anyone finds out who I am, then they could kill me. Or they could sell the information to someone who would. I imagine you could get a lot of shards for that information. So please, please stop toying with me Razia. What do you plan on doing with me?¡±


    Razia looked thoughtful then. For a second, Quentin thought she might give him a straight answer. But then her smile bloomed once more, playful and borderline sadistic. ¡°That¡¯s a good question. But first¡­¡± Razia took one of the lamps and went deeper into his house. Darkness settled in the space she left behind.


    By now Quentin¡¯s heart settled somewhere right in his throat and wouldn¡¯t go down, no matter how hard or how many times he swallowed. She was still playing with him, and he was powerless to stop her. Maybe not powerless, he reflected, remembering the talk with Demetrius. Quentin had no desire to hurt the tiny woman, but if that¡¯s what it took to keep himself safe...He swallowed again and took off after her.


    ¡°Now this is proper luxury,¡± Razia said, leaning against the open frame of the bathroom. She had a good eye. The large pool carved into the ground was one of the deciding factors for buying a family villa without having a family. She lowered the lamp and ran a hand over the tiles of a mosaic of ships at sea.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see a place to stoke a fire underneath,¡± she said. ¡°Does that mean what I think it means?¡±


    Quentin grunted. ¡°Ember chips,¡± he said, reaching up and rattling a wooden box. They were bright orange slivers of alchemical resin. They were good for starting fires or, if you tossed it in water, instantly bringing the heat up to steaming. ¡°It¡¯s good for easing pain,¡± he added defensively. ¡°Will you please tell me what you¡¯re going to do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re looking at it,¡± Razia replied, still smiling that infuriating smile. ¡°Having a look around. I¡¯m sizing you up. It¡¯s something of a game I like to play.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not having very much fun right now Razia.¡±


    Her smile finally cracked. ¡°Ah, that isn¡¯t what I mean. Forgive me. I didn¡¯t mean to torment you.¡±


    ¡°And yet you are.¡± The words were clipped, forced out. Quentin was surprised to find most of the fear turning into anger at the audacity of the woman. ¡°Do you think it wise, playing with me like this? I have every reason in the world to keep you silent by any means necessary. Do you know how many people I¡¯ve killed? What makes you think I won¡¯t wring your neck to stay alive?¡±


    The petite islander fell silent. She looked up into his scowling, hawkish face, with a look both thoughtful and serene. ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± She set the lamp down on a wall hook and stepped up to him. Quentin held his ground. Razia took his hands in hers and placed them around her throat. She squeezed.


    ¡°W-what are you doing?¡± Quentin started, trying to pull away. Her grip was firm as she kept their hands in place. His panic subsided when her grip didn¡¯t tighten. Still Razia had that damnably serene look on her face. She managed to look both calm and smug at the same time.


    ¡°Here¡¯s your chance, Quentin,¡± She said. This time when she squeezed his hands it was gentle. ¡°If you want to silence me, I¡¯m at your mercy. No one knows I¡¯m here except your neighbor, and he won¡¯t say a word. No one will. Buuuut,¡± Razia drummed her fingers along his hands before letting them go. ¡°You won¡¯t do it. You won¡¯t kill me and we both know it.¡±


    It was tempting. The thought of getting a good grip and giving her one good squeeze, just to wipe the smile off of her face. In the end Quentin couldn¡¯t hurt her or even just squeeze a little to scare her. He hated her for being right.


    ¡°If you were wrong you¡¯d be dead,¡± Quentin said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia said with a twinkle in her eye, ¡°and if you lost a fight you¡¯d be dead. That¡¯s the game, Quentin. It¡¯s silly, it¡¯s dangerous, it¡¯s just asking to die and it makes you feel alive like nothing else in the world.¡±


    A chill ran down his spine. Quentin finally swallowed the lump in his throat. She understood. Razia knew why he fought. She was telling him she saw him for what he was, without condemnation or judgment. That understanding, that awful knowing stripped him bare. Quentin pulled his hands away from her throat.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Razia said, cupping his face. Her hand was soft and warm. ¡°From here on out, no more playing with you. I¡¯ll be open and honest if you will.¡± Her thumb stroked his cheek, cautiously. Nothing as forward as the other night, more curious. It almost felt like pity, but Quentin knew pity and this was different. ¡°And I¡¯ll make it easy on you. Ask me what I want, Quentin. One more time.¡±


    ¡°Okay, Razia,¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Razia took the lamp in one hand and Quentin¡¯s hand in the other. She pulled him back towards the atrium, where the moonlight illuminated Quentin¡¯s only real piece of furniture. Razia ushered Quentin down on the couch. He was too tired to resist or care. Retrieving a bottle of wine from her basket, Razia said, ¡°Quentin Quintius, I want to have a few drinks and feed my curiosity. I want...I need to get to know the man who kills for a living but won''t in his personal life. Let¡¯s start there. Why couldn¡¯t you?¡±


    The question threw him, if only because it made him really think about it. He was silent as he mulled it over. Razia was content to let him think about it without prodding him for the answer. ¡°This is what you want?¡± he asked. ¡°Just to ask me questions and look at me like a novelty?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°No Quentin. I want to understand you. I have absolutely no intentions of telling anyone who you are. You know, so long as I get what I want. And right now I want you to answer my questions. Including the one you¡¯re trying to dodge!¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t expect the short, sharp laugh that escaped him. He shook his head, finally starting to relax just a bit. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Because you hadn¡¯t done anything. I kill when I¡¯m working, but it¡¯s not like I want to kill people. And you haven¡¯t done anything yet. I can¡¯t hurt you if you haven¡¯t done anything. It would be wrong.¡± Saying it out loud sounded stupid, but Razia looked pleased.


    ¡°I believe you mean that.¡± Razia took the seat next to him on the couch, just barely avoiding touching him. Quentin wasn¡¯t sure if he was disappointed or relieved she was giving him space. She held up the wine. ¡°I think you might be a good man, Quentin Quintius.¡±


    He took the bottle from her and worked the cork out. ¡°You think wrong. The other night, you had it right. Not everyone who comes to me is guilty. I have no way of knowing how many people I¡¯ve killed were innocent. It doesn¡¯t matter if they are. I kill whoever they put in front of me. It doesn¡¯t matter how much I object or wish I didn¡¯t have to, I kill them all the same. I¡¯m not good. I¡¯m barely tolerable.¡±


    Razia nudged the bottle of wine up to his mouth. ¡°Please, for the love of the gods, take a drink and lighten up some. Do it or I¡¯ll tell someone who you are.¡±


    Quentin jolted out of the impending resentful fog about to descend and chuckled. He took a slow pull of the wine and savored it. After the day he¡¯d had, a little wine was welcome. ¡°There,¡± he said. ¡°Promise not to tell who I am?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m satisfied. For now.¡± Razia took the bottle and took a drink of her own. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. ¡°We¡¯ll see how I¡¯m feeling later on. I¡¯m starting to run low on shards. Might be too tempting an offer.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right,¡± said Quentin, smiling in spite of himself. ¡°Can¡¯t blame you for looking out for yourself. It¡¯s a dangerous city. I just hadn¡¯t counted on being taken down by a tiny witch.¡±


    Her eyes widened with shock and joy. ¡°Excuse me?¡± She said, fighting off laughter. ¡°I resent that. I¡¯m gigantic. In presence at least.¡±


    Another surprised laugh and Quentin found himself relaxing. This was closer to what it was like the other night. When she forced him to have a good time in spite of himself. When a potential fight turned into a night of drinking and laughing. It felt...good. ¡°No one¡¯s ever accused you of being humble, have they?¡± he teased.


    ¡°Nope.¡± Razia took another drink and pushed the bottle back insistently. ¡°I know my worth.¡±


    ¡°And your price,¡± he said, drinking.


    ¡°Not the same thing,¡± Razia shook her head. ¡°My company has a price. There¡¯s no price in the world that comes close to my worth. I like myself, and you should too.¡±


    Quentin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like you, or like myself?¡±


    Razia grinned. ¡°Both, preferably. I mean it, though. I¡¯ve met many men in my life, and you¡¯re not anywhere near the worst. No,¡± she held up a finger the second Quentin¡¯s mouth opened to protest. ¡°No self hating or I will find someone to rant to, and then your secret¡¯s out. We can¡¯t have that.¡±


    ¡°I guess we can¡¯t,¡± said Quentin. ¡°So what¡¯s next? Since you¡¯re apparently in charge.¡±


    Razia pushed the bottle over to him. ¡°Let¡¯s go with my original question tonight, then. What do you want?¡±


    Quentin frowned. ¡°I...I don¡¯t. There¡¯s not really anything I want.¡±


    ¡°Gullshit,¡± Razia scoffed. ¡°Everyone wants something. Even the dead want to be remembered. You¡¯ve got a big house, have a big fancy bathtub you can use everyday if you wanted, and you clearly eat well. You¡¯re healthy and doing well for yourself, but what is it you want? Anything in the world. No matter what it is, I promise I won¡¯t laugh or be weird about it.¡± She held up a hand, giving a mock serious look.


    The hard part of the question was just the question itself. Quentin wasn¡¯t worried that she would laugh at what he wanted. The thing was that when it came down to it, he didn¡¯t have an answer. Not even something he could lie about to satisfy Razia enough to move on. Every time he tried to think of something, be it drinking and laughing with the gladiators or being able to walk around during the day without being blind, they were instantly dismissed as unimportant or unrealistic.


    ¡°This is a hard one for you, isn¡¯t it?¡± Razia asked after a couple minutes of silence.


    ¡°I meant it when I said I don¡¯t want anything!¡± Quentin protested, taking an angry swig of wine. ¡°I¡¯ve got everything I need. Besides, me wanting anything seems pretty pointless anyways.¡±


    Razia gave him a long, searching look. ¡°Why would wanting something be pointless, Quentin?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, standing. His body protested, aches and pains making themselves known. He was tired again, and his body begged to drop. But this wasn¡¯t something he could dodge. Not when she could see right through him. ¡°Because,¡± he said, taking a breath and bracing himself, ¡°it¡¯s not as though I¡¯m going to live long enough to enjoy it.


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of wanting something when I take each week as it comes? I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d survive this long, but here I am. And that baffles me. No one wins every fight. No one. Sooner or later I¡¯m going to slip and when I do, nothing in my life will have mattered. I¡¯ve sent enough people to face the Darkstar¡¯s judgement. Innocent as well as guilty. When¡­¡±


    Quentin¡¯s voice cracked at the end. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Razia sat there, looking up at him with something like concern or sympathy in her eyes, but she didn¡¯t say anything. Clearing his throat, he continued, ¡°When I die, there¡¯s no doubt in my mind that I¡¯ll be a shade. Everything I ever was will be gone. Whatever¡¯s left of me will serve the Darkstar for all time, never remembering who I was. What¡¯s the point of wanting or enjoying anything when it will be like it never happened?¡±


    Razia didn¡¯t say anything at first. To her credit, she took her time coming up with a reply. When she did, she was serious, almost mournful sounding. ¡°Does nothing make you happy, Quentin?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Quentin grit his teeth. ¡°Not nothing,¡± he said. ¡°The only thing that makes me happy anymore is...The game. The one you were playing earlier. The only thing that makes you feel alive.¡±


    She got to her feet and put her hand on his arm. He stopped fidgeting at once and met Razia¡¯s gaze. ¡°So does that mean you weren¡¯t happy the other night, when we were drinking and laughing? Did that bring you absolutely no joy of any kind?¡±


    The words were like a slap to the face. ¡°What? No, I had a good time and...I guess I was happy,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°Until you revealed you knew who I really was and I nearly shat myself.¡±


    That got a laugh out of her. ¡°When you die and become a shade, I¡¯ll remember that night,¡± Razia said. ¡°I¡¯ll remember it as the night I met an interesting, handsome, grumpy bastard and I still got him to have fun. And I think from now until whenever you do die, you¡¯ll remember having fun once you let go a little. You think that¡¯s not worth it?.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it is. But something¡¯s bothering me. Why do you even care?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°What¡¯s in this for you? You can¡¯t expect me to believe you¡¯re doing this out of the kindness of your heart.¡± He grimaced. ¡°I like you, Razia. Somehow I think I like you. But this is Orchrisus. You can get whatever you can dream of, but there¡¯s always a price.¡±


    Razia took his hands in hers. She was close, like their night out before they parted ways. Some of his tension melted away with the stroke of her thumb across his skin. It was a small joy Quentin found himself resenting. He hated how strongly her presence affected him. He hated both of them knowing just how caught he was and he hated how it intoxicated him.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± she said, voice low and drawn out. Almost like she was sighing his name. ¡°When we first met I was honestly bored and looking for some way to round out my night and make a little money. But I think I understand you. That¡¯s what I do. I learn about people and cater to their every delight, and tend to their hurts and scars. I mean it when I say this is a calling for me. For that alone I would care about you.


    ¡°I can see that you are lonely and depressed. You¡¯re isolated. Even if you weren¡¯t born the way you are, the job you do must keep you apart from everyone else. You carry a hard burden, and you define yourself by it. Just as your cuts and bruises need attention, so does the rest of you. What I offer is a form of healing, in honor of my goddess. For that alone I would want to help you and ease your pains. So yes,¡± she said, squeezing his hands playfully. ¡°I would do it out of the kindness of my heart.¡±


    ¡°But I also said no,¡± Quentin said, fighting to keep the heat from enveloping his face. ¡°That as much as you¡¯re pret- beautiful, I¡¯m not sure I can enjoy your services.¡±


    She bowed her head. ¡°Of course. I respect your choice and I¡¯m not going to push you. If you change your mind, tell me. But not all my healing is about sex. There¡¯s a lot I can do for you. Which brings me to my next point.¡± Razia tugged on Quentin¡¯s arms and directed him back to the couch. He sat back down and she sat with her back to the arm, feet landing in his lap.


    He raised an eyebrow. At her cheeky smile he shook his head and rested his hand on her leg. There was no way she would object if he touched her more, but there was also no way Quentin could bring himself to do it. He was distracted enough. ¡°What¡¯s your next point?¡± he asked.


    Razia took the wine and drank deeply from it. ¡°I have a lot I can offer, and you do too. Specifically, I think there¡¯s a way we can help each other out. When you came looking for me and met with Samantha, it started a bit of a reaction. She told everyone Otho was willing to sell their lives, and when I found out about it, I may have overreacted a bit.¡±


    ¡°Define overreacted.¡±


    ¡°I gathered as many of the girls as I could and we marched out of there. But not before turning his guards against him and starting a small riot between rival gangs so we could escape.¡± Razia finished the wine.


    Quentin burst out laughing. Razia didn¡¯t join him. ¡°Oh. Oh fucking hell,¡± he groaned. ¡°Mouthing off to muggers, stealing from pimps, starting riots; you really do like to play the game don¡¯t you? What possessed you to do that?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°He crossed a line. We deserve better than that, and he deserves to be punished. I took thirteen girls with me and we walked out.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Quentin, taking a deep breath. ¡°How much power and influence does this guy have? How worried should you be?¡±


    ¡°A lot less than he used to have,¡± she grinned. ¡°He¡¯s going to be angry. I¡¯ve got that handled, but that means I¡¯ve got over a dozen girls to look out for and make sure they land on their feet. It¡¯s my fault they¡¯re in this mess and I intend to make sure they¡¯re taken care of. Which means I¡¯m not going to be making much money in the near future.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Where do I come in?¡±


    Razia licked her lips. ¡°You have a very nice home, Quentin. One with many empty rooms.¡±


    The corners of his lips twitched. ¡°Why yes Razia,¡± he returned, ¡°I do. So nice of you to notice.¡±


    ¡°It would save me a lot of money if I had a place to stay without having to pay for the room every night. More than that, I am confident I can trust you. You were willing to seek me out to warn me of danger and I already know you¡¯re not being kind just to fuck me. Frankly,¡± she said chuckling, ¡°I think you might be the safest place in the city for me.¡±


    ¡°So you want shelter and a bodyguard,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°No,¡± Razia said. ¡°I want a friend I can trust.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like Quentin didn¡¯t have the room. He could fit another seven people comfortably and still have room to run a business If he had one. Still, he hadn¡¯t lived with other people for a decade now. Could he really start again? ¡°What do I get out of it?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°You said we could help each other. I give you shelter and what, you be my friend?¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll be your friend even without a deal. No, for starters, if you don¡¯t give me shelter I¡¯ll tell everyone who you are.¡±


    ¡°Would you though?¡± Quentin squeezed her leg. Razia shook her head.


    ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t do that. But either you trust me or you¡¯re paranoid enough to take the deal. Either is good enough for me. No, I¡¯ve got what you want, Quentin.¡± Razia beamed, almost giddy. ¡°I¡¯m going to show you Orchrisus. The Orchrisus you never get to see. I¡¯m going to bring you out into the world and let you experience it. Our night out when we met was just the first.¡±


    Razia stretched out her legs in his lap. She wriggled, getting comfortable on the couch. She had a smug, knowing smile Quentin was already growing to dread. ¡°Quentin Quintius, I¡¯m going to make you feel alive.¡±

 Chapter 15: One Step Closer

    Chapter 15: One Step Closer


    ¡°Look, all I¡¯m sayin¡¯ is that it¡¯s been a godsdamned week, and we don¡¯t have shit to show for it,'''' Gregor complained. He speared his fork into his bowl of noodles. He twisted them around and slurped them sullenly. ¡°All I¡¯m sayin¡¯ is that we should know when to quit and do somethin¡¯ else.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t the first time Gregor made the argument, and Philus suspected it wouldn¡¯t be the last. Not if things continued the same way. It was hard enough sometimes to keep his boys in line. That they were right made them absolutely insufferable. He couldn¡¯t even enjoy his damned meal in peace without one of them giving him guff.


    Philus looked up from his own bowl of noodles, eyes watering from the heat. He, Gregor, and Markus sat at the wooden counter of a little Mooran noodle shack a mile away from their street. The food was tasty, spicy enough to make anyone cry, and cheap enough for them to afford, even when they hadn¡¯t been making many shards lately. He pointed his own fork at the larger man, scowling.


    ¡°Not this shit again. A week isn¡¯t much time. Think of the payday we¡¯ve got waiting for us. That should be enough even for a big lump like you to be patient.¡± Philus stabbed a hunk of walla and chomped it.


    ¡°Think of the payday,¡± Markus mimicked. He pushed his own mostly empty bowl away in disgust. ¡°We supposed to feed ourselves on dreams, Philus? I¡¯m gettin¡¯ real sick of noodles every night.¡±


    The owner of the shack, an old, wrinkled Mooran woman named Taki, turned around to glare at Markus. ¡°You done with your noodles then?¡± she asked, reaching for the bowl.


    Markus grabbed onto it. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. Mind your business,¡± he growled. Taki clucked and returned to her stove.


    Some kind of argument like this was happening every night, and it was getting worse. Philus and his boys had trekked up and down the North side in search of the whore and had only turned up whispers. One man had her for a couple of nights last month. Another swore he saw her in a bar on North River Row just last week. The only place that had seen her as recently as last week had been that shitty pub that threw him out after Markus groped the owner¡¯s daughter.


    Still, they were getting close. Philus could feel it. They were running out of places to look, which meant Razia Rashid was running out of places to hide. What other explanation could there be?


    ¡°We¡¯re getting by. Let¡¯s be real here, Markus. You could do with skipping a meal or two, and we wouldn¡¯t be having this kind of issue if Gregor didn¡¯t eat us out of house and home.¡±


    Gregor lowered the empty bowl of noodles from his lips and scowled. ¡°Hey! I get hungry. You want some muscle, you gotta be willing to feed me! Maybe if we were spending less time lookin¡¯ around and asking questions and more time shaking people down...At this rate, we¡¯re never going to be able to go to the South Side again. Not without getting shanked.¡±


    Markus snorted. ¡°What the hell do you have going on in the South Side? All you do is eat, drink, fight, and fuck. You can do all of that here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you can¡¯t get to the port too easy without going through the south side.¡± Gregor shrugged.


    ¡°The port? The port?¡± Markus looked at Philus in disbelief. Philus shrugged. There was no telling where Gregor got half the shit that passed his lips.


    ¡°Yeah. I was thinking that maybe I could see about signing on to a crew. I got family back in Finsk I haven¡¯t seen in a while. My sister was preggers last I saw her, yeah? Her kid¡¯s gotta be at least four now.¡± He shrugged again, keeping his head down. ¡°Farming¡¯s none too interesting, but it¡¯s steady, yeah?¡±


    A chill that had nothing to do with the evening breeze settled. Other than the bubble of the next batch of noodles being cooked and the one other patron slurping their food, it was silent. All the color drained out of Markus¡¯ face. He looked at Philus and winced. Philus glared at the hulk of a thug. His last thread of patience snapped.


    ¡°Why Gregor,¡± he said, ¡°you¡¯re not thinking of leaving us, are you? Not over a week of footwork. Not when we¡¯re so close.¡± Philus bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a smile.


    ¡°Are we though?¡± Gregor raised his eyes up. ¡°Feels like we¡¯re just running around like idiots.¡±


    Philus shoved his bowl away. He turned around. ¡°With you, that¡¯s always true. What about our plans, Gregor? We¡¯ve won the last five scraps. 44th street is ours, and we might get 45th soon. Money and respect¡¯s about to start pouring in. You wanna walk away from that?¡±


    ¡°Phil,¡± Markus began.


    Philus slammed his fist on the counter. Markus, the only other customer, and two empty bowls jumped.


    ¡°No, we¡¯re on our way! After we do this job, we¡¯re gonna live like kings for the next two months! We¡¯ll be able to do whatever we want, get whatever we want, and grow.¡± Philus stood and jabbed a finger into Gregor¡¯s chest. ¡°You¡¯re not running away from this! We¡¯re going to find that whore, bring her to that giant fat fuck, and we¡¯re going to bathe in shards as he guts her!¡±


    Neither Gregor nor Markus said a word, though they shared a look Philus didn¡¯t miss. He knew what it meant. His boys were thinking of bailing on him. This was all about to fall apart, if he didn¡¯t do something. All he had to do was hold them together a little longer, and riches and glory were theirs.


    The other customer threw a half qala piece into the big glass jar behind the counter and slinked away. Taki turned around. ¡°You three need to leave,¡± she said, wrinkled face made even wrinklier by her scowl. ¡°Pay your tab, and get out of here. I¡¯ll not have you scaring my customers away!¡±


    Philus turned on her. ¡°Fuck you, fuck your noodles, fuck my idiot friends, fuck everything!¡± He snatched the jar of shards and took off. Markus and Gregor exchanged a baffled look and took off after him, and for the first time in days things were almost back to normal.


    They knew these streets as well as anybody. Twisting and turning their way through every side street and back alley was second nature. There was no way old Taki or her son were after them, but that didn¡¯t matter. For as long as they were running, it was just Philus and his boys, making money the fun and fast way.


    He finally stopped when he ran out of breath. Markus and Gregor caught up with him soon after, panting and leaning against a nearby building. Philus let out a wild, whooping laugh.


    ¡°What the shit was that, Phil?¡± Gregor wheezed.


    ¡°We¡¯re never going to be able to eat there again,¡± Markus added. That just made Philus laugh harder. His boys looked at him as if he was going mad.


    ¡°I thought you were sick of noodles, brother!¡± Philus guffawed. He turned the jar upside down. An entire day¡¯s worth of Taki¡¯s earnings clattered to the dirt. ¡°You ladies were complaining about a lack of funds? Grab a handful. This should last us for a few days!¡±


    It was worth it to see their eyes get large with greed. They dropped to their knees and scooped up the qala and half qala pieces and tucked them away into their pockets. The final pile was smaller, but that was fine. A leader provided for his men. Philus took his share with a wide, manic grin. ¡°Are we good now?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Markus hedged. ¡°This¡¯ll feed us, but what if she calls the watch on us? This was still a bad idea. You don¡¯t shit where you eat.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    As one, they looked around the alleyway. Other than a young boy bouncing a ball against a house, they were alone. There was no one to call them thieves or drag them to one of the five watchtowers, never to be seen again. They shared a short, self deprecating laugh.


    ¡°You still don¡¯t get it,¡± said Philus. ¡°Give it another week or two, and that wrinkly bitch will be begging to serve us food.¡±


    Gregor let out a frustrated, strangled snarl. ¡°How? You keep going on about this, but we got nothing!¡±


    Philus held up a finger. ¡°Not true. I got a lead. A good lead this time, brothers. This one¡¯s going to work out for us. I guarantee it. IF IT DOESN¡¯T,¡± he added before either Markus or Gregor could protest, ¡°then we¡¯ll call it all off. We¡¯ll go back to mugging people and getting into pointless fights with the boys on 45th.¡±


    Once more, Markus and Gregor shared a look. Philus¡¯ heart was all the way up in his throat as they silently conferred. It threatened to leap straight out when Markus finally sighed and shrugged. ¡°One more time. But if this one doesn¡¯t pan out, we¡¯re done and you¡¯re paying for everything for a week.¡±


    Philus could live with that.


    Despite what they may have thought of the search, Philus wasn¡¯t running around without a clue. Going around, asking after one specific person would¡¯ve been stupid. After a couple nights sticking to their usual hangouts and waiting to see if anything happened, they branched out. Philus used his head, like any savvy gang leader would do.


    There were only three places north of the river where whores regularly gathered together, and while Markus and Gregor bitched and fought with him every step of the way, Philus had managed to rule two of them out already. The girls under Aziz were all slaves, and there was no way that brutal bastard would¡¯ve let any of them go without a fight. The same could be said of Raquel. Her girls worked under her willingly, but they were a tight knit bunch that were just as much thieves as they were whores. That left only one place.


    The Silk Lounge was known more for its privacy and parties than the women themselves, but they still had at least two dozen girls working there. The way Philus heard it, the girls rented nooks and rooms the same as any party would, and made a living with the relative safety in numbers it provided. If that slippery bitch was working anywhere, it would be there. There was, of course, another reason for going.


    ¡°No way,¡± Gregor breathed as they stopped in front of the building. The big Finskovite wasn¡¯t known for being reverent, but this came close.


    ¡°Here?¡± Markus looked just as impressed as Gregor.


    ¡°Here,¡± Philus confirmed. He threw his arms around their shoulders. ¡°Last I heard, she was a regular,¡± he lied. It was probably true. It had to be true. ¡°And haven¡¯t you always wanted to be inside? Have a meeting?¡±


    Markus¡¯ sharp intake of breath told him he had won him over. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°But this isn¡¯t the same, is it? We haven¡¯t made it yet. Ain¡¯t nobody inviting us in for business tonight.¡± He brushed Philus¡¯ arm off.


    Philus refused to be discouraged. ¡°True,¡± he said, ¡°but there will be. By this time next month, we¡¯ll be known. And it all starts right here. Tonight.¡±


    Neither of his friends looked like they believed him, but it was hard not to find his words attractive. Mugging people late at night or occasionally getting a handful of shards in exchange for beating the piss out of a debtor didn¡¯t get a gang noticed. Cashing out an expensive bounty¡­Philus looked between them, forcing confidence into his grin. He willed them to just go with it, to take this last chance.


    ¡°Eh, whatever,¡± said Markus, sighing. ¡°If nothing else, we¡¯ll get to see what it¡¯s like inside, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Gregor clasped their shoulders hard enough to rock them.


    The place was nearly silent, and in a place like that it was enough to make the hairs on the back of Philus¡¯ neck stand on end. It wasn¡¯t an empty kind of quiet. It was hushed, suspicious. This was the kind of quiet that came right before he and the boys jumped someone. Unconsciously, they stopped dead in the doorway.


    The Silk Lounge was a fucking mess. There was no other way to put it. Paper shredded paper lanterns littered the floor, with only a few still hanging to cast their light. The walls were scorched in places, with knives embedded in others. Blood stained the entryway before the front desk, which sported a long chunk hacked out of the wood. Whatever had happened there, this place couldn¡¯t call itself neutral territory any more.


    ¡°What the fuck,¡± Markus whispered. Philus didn¡¯t have any answers. He had the same dumbstruck look on his face as Markus, while Gregor screwed up his eyes and frowned.


    ¡°This is it? This place is a shithole,¡± Gregor declared.


    Philus and Markus shushed him, smacking him around his shoulders and head. It was too late. Footsteps sounded around the corner, getting closer. ¡°Hey, knock it off!¡± Gregor said, smacking their hands away. ¡°It is! You made this place out to be so great but it looks like Gustavi¡¯s after three am.¡±


    A short fat man in girly robes turned the corner, face screwed up in disgust. One arm was in a sling, and one eye was blackened and puffy. ¡°Does no one still work here?¡± he shouted. He shook his head as a lone merc came from the other door, one hand on a club at his belt. ¡°Remove this trash at once,¡± Otho said.


    Philus jumped and got his arm around Gregor¡¯s head and pulled him down. Markus grabbed one arm with both of his and fought to keep him from getting out of the headlock. Gregor settled down after a few seconds. Philus looked up to see incredulous looks on the merc and Otho¡¯s face. That was his opportunity.


    ¡°Please forgive my friend¡¯s runaway mouth,¡± said Philus. ¡°He¡¯s an idiot. We¡¯ve always...We¡¯re fans, yeah? We¡¯ve always wanted to come here and drink with the big dogs. Maybe pick up a job or two. We didn¡¯t expect this place to...What happened here?¡±


    Otho took a long, deep, overly patient breath and let it out in a huff. ¡°Razia Rashid happened.¡±


    All at once the boys broke apart and looked at each other, eyes wide with excitement. ¡°YES!¡± They cried out as one, half hugging and half slapping each other.


    ¡°Simmons, you get a castura if you make it hurt when you eject them,¡± said Otho. The merc grabbed his club and looped the leather around his wrist.


    ¡°Wait wait wait,¡± Philus held his hands up. ¡°No, sorry, wait! We¡¯re hunting her!¡±


    Simmons looked to Otho for confirmation. After a few seconds Otho waved him off. ¡°Hunting her? As in you intend to find her and do unpleasant things to her?¡±


    ¡°Find her, yeah,¡± said Markus. ¡°But it¡¯s an interested third party who¡¯ll be doing dark and nasty things to her. He sounded pretty eager. Hungry even. Yeah I¡¯d say he¡¯s hungry for it.¡±


    Otho rubbed at his temples. ¡°And who might this third party be? How many people has this cunt royally pissed off?¡±


    ¡°Chr--¡± Gregor started, but Philus put his hand over his mouth. ¡°An anonymous third party with a hunger for blood. That¡¯s all anyone needs to know.¡± He gave his best disarming smile. ¡°Isn¡¯t that enough?¡±


    ¡°Enough for what? What do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°Any information you have on Razia and how we might find her.¡± Philus clasped his boys on the shoulders. This was it. After a week of busting their asses and searching high and low, they¡¯d get what they need and collect.


    Otho smiled. It wasn¡¯t a nice smile. ¡°Do you plan on sharing that bounty with me?¡± he asked pleasantly.


    ¡°Hadn¡¯t planned on it,¡± said Markus.


    The smile disappeared. ¡°Then why should I tell you anything? Sooner or later that bitch will piss off the wrong person and they¡¯ll deal with her. If you want information, you¡¯ll pay for it.¡±


    Philus held up a hand to his boys. He had a feeling he knew how this was going to turn out and he didn¡¯t like it. He got out his share of the noodle stand tip jar and set it down on the table. Otho looked at it and scoffed. Sighing, Philus nudged Gregor.


    ¡°Oh you gotta be kidding me,¡± Gregor groaned. But he too pulled out his purse and dumped a small pile of half qala pieces on the desk. Otho coughed. They looked to Markus.


    Markus held up a finger. ¡°Give us some information. If we¡¯re happy with it, you get the rest.¡±


    Otho sniffed. He made his way around the desk and scooped the shards into the top drawer. ¡°She was here just two days ago. She went upstairs. A few minutes later she came down with half of my whores and started screaming at me. They refused to go up, so the bitch started lying and turned my men against me. She escaped and I haven¡¯t seen her since.¡±


    ¡°Two days?¡± Gregor snorted derisively.


    ¡°No,¡± said Philus, ¡°that¡¯s fresh. That¡¯s good. Do you have any idea where she might¡¯ve gone after that?¡±


    Otho gave a one armed shrug. ¡°If I knew that I would¡¯ve sent someone after her myself. She left with a big group of whores, maybe twelve of them. Maybe they went to Raquel and begged for sanctuary. She could¡¯ve skipped town for all I know. That¡¯s all I got. Now, the rest?¡±


    Markus shook his head. ¡°Not yet.¡± His eyes narrowed as an idea formed. ¡°One more question. What was she screaming about?¡±


    Color flooded Otho¡¯s cheeks. ¡°It was something stupid. She was upset I was willing to risk a friend of hers by renting her out to her moonkissed friend.¡±


    ¡°Moonkissed?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s when it all started.¡± Otho¡¯s voice got low, almost a growl. ¡°It all started with that moonkissed bastard, Quentin Quintius!¡±

 Chapter 16: Home Sweet Home

    Chapter 16: Home Sweet Home


    Razia Rashid was used to waking up in strange new surroundings, but it never lost its novelty. There was an excitement in those first few vulnerable moments when she woke and her senses returned. It was thrilling, never knowing whether her surroundings would be palatial or a shithole. Quentin¡¯s home was decidedly not a shithole. As she stretched away the last of her sleep, she had to admit it was one of the better places she¡¯d stayed.


    Even sleeping out in the open on the couch was more pleasant than the inn she previously called home. The couch was soft and well worn, and as the morning dragged on the sun came through the skylight and gently roused her to the sound of silence. Quentin¡¯s home was big, beautiful, and somehow quiet in the middle of a city teeming with life. A place like that was more than just a big house: it was a sanctuary. Lying there on the couch with her arms behind her head, all her troubles seemed to belong to someone else.


    ¡°That poor bitch is in some hot water,¡± she muttered, breaking the silence. She laughed to herself and got up for the day.


    There was no easy way to explore her new temporary home without invading privacy or waiting for Quentin to wake up, and the man had looked like he was ready to collapse the night before. So Razia did the only thing she could: went around opening doors a crack to see if there was anything behind them. There were six rooms arranged around the atrium that could¡¯ve been bedrooms. Outside of Quentin¡¯s room (which she respectfully avoided), four of them were completely empty. The only other room that had anything in it was a mess, cluttered with old battered books, training weapons, and a suit of chitinous armor not too dissimilar from the one he wore during executions. There was a crack in the front where a weapon broke through some time ago.


    ¡°Man, Quentin,¡± Razia said to the empty room, ¡°you¡¯re really banking on solitude keeping your secret, aren¡¯t you?¡± With a last lingering look at the broken armor she closed the door.


    No matter how hard she tried, she couldn¡¯t picture what it must¡¯ve been like to spend your entire life alone like this. It was so far from her experiences. It strengthened her resolve to make sure that while she was getting shelter and a measure of security, she¡¯d make sure Quentin lived a little before either of them got themselves killed. It was the least she could do.


    With the rooms that could¡¯ve been used for a street facing business sealed shut, that left only the kitchen and bathroom. Razia knew that if she looked at that tub again, she would be unable to resist filling the tub and soaking in hot water and silence until she shriveled. That left the kitchen.


    Just as she suspected, it was the only other room that showed real signs of life. It was fairly well stocked, if basic. Salted and smoked meats hung in a dark, cool cabinet. Quentin had a good supply of fresh fruit that could stand the heat without spoiling, and a stone chest that when opened revealed fresh vegetables, eggs, cheeses, and a glowing blue stone that seemed to suck the warmth out of the air. Razia grabbed a few eggs and vegetables and closed it.


    There was a fine line between respecting someone¡¯s privacy and making yourself at home. She couldn¡¯t really make herself at home without making a few assumptions, so she just danced across the line, opening cabinets and learning her way around as she made breakfast for two.


    As luck would have it, Razia was just finishing up when she heard Quentin¡¯s bedroom door close loudly. She transferred the omelettes to clay plates along with some dried fruit and a couple hunks of bread. He was there on the lounger when she came out, blinking away the last of the sleep and looking half dead. No longer hidden by his bland cloak, Quentin was an explosion of disparate colors. Yellows, greens, and purple bruises littered his chest and arms, and half a dozen fresh cuts stained red through bandages that would need to be changed.


    Guilt was far from something Razia experienced regularly, but seeing those wounds she felt a fresh pang of it. ¡°Hey,¡± she called out, holding up the plates. ¡°Thought you¡¯d be hungry when you woke up.¡± It wouldn¡¯t make up for her invading his home and blackmailing him while he was too beat up to put up much of a fight, but it was a start.


    Quentin lurched forward, blinking rapidly. He let out a grunt that could¡¯ve been a greeting, an acknowledgement, or a go fuck yourself. Just the same, he took the plate from her and dropped onto the cushion. Razia settled in next to him


    They ate in silence. There were several times when Razia nearly said something, but her gut told her to give Quentin enough space to process it all in his own time. Before too long he was finished and set the plate down on the floor. It was another few minutes after that before he spoke.


    ¡°Did you, um. Did you sleep well?¡± Quentin asked, not looking directly at Razia. ¡°This couch is comfortable enough for naps, but I can¡¯t see sleeping on it every night. Not comfortably.¡± His face was tormented, as if forcing himself to speak caused him real pain.


    Razia half turned to him, bumping her knee into his. ¡°Quite well, thank you. It¡¯s not too late to change your mind, though. If you¡¯d rather I not be here, I won¡¯t impose. I meant it when I said I think staying with you might be my safest option.¡± She put her hand on his knee and squeezed it.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°No, that¡¯s...That¡¯s fine. Really it is,¡± he insisted with more life to his tone. ¡°I¡¯m just having trouble wrapping my head around that. Trying to wrap my head around you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Razia said, a big smile spreading across her face. ¡°You¡¯ll just give yourself a headache. I can¡¯t even wrap my head around me. Either way, I¡¯m grateful and I owe you. I fully intend to make good on my promise.¡± She finished her own breakfast and stacked her plate on Quentin¡¯s.


    That nebulous promise. Razia could almost see the wheels in Quentin¡¯s head turning, mulling over her words. When she¡¯d promised to make him feel alive, he¡¯d fallen silent and she could tell that she struck gold. Even now she was working out how to do that. There were a few ideas, but like all of her best ones it¡¯d come to Razia right when it was needed.


    ¡°How come you don¡¯t do more with the rooms you have?¡± she asked.


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°I probably should¡¯ve bought a smaller home,¡± he admitted. ¡°I was hoping my father would live with me, once I showed him I could provide for us and let him take it easy. He decided he¡¯d rather break his back for a living than take blood money.¡±


    Just like that, Razia found a sore subject to tread on. ¡°Screw that,¡± Razia said, making Quentin look up sharply. ¡°I¡¯m not too proud to enjoy some blood money. It¡¯s a damned lovely home and you¡¯ve got tons of options,¡± she proclaimed. ¡°You could do anything you wanted with a house this size. Screw guilt.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he admitted. ¡°Either way, you¡¯re free to any room you¡¯d like. Other than my room,¡± he added, a smile of his own crossing his face. ¡°Something tells me you¡¯re the kind of person who¡¯d try.¡±


    Razia gave a wide, innocent shrug. ¡°Not me!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d never try to steal your room out from under you. I¡¯m way more likely to try to share your room. Under you or on top of you. But you said no and I respect that,¡± Razia said, raising her voice to be heard over Quentin¡¯s surprised laugh.


    He looked at her with the same bewildered, surprised look that had caught her attention from the start. ¡°You¡¯re not going to try more?¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to try more?¡± Razia countered.


    Quentin slumped in place. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he answered in a low voice. ¡°I don¡¯t like...I don¡¯t like feeling like I¡¯m at your mercy. Either because I think you¡¯ll tell, or because you know I...You know you can get to me.¡±


    The absolute worst thing Razia could¡¯ve done was let out the laugh she was holding in. It wasn¡¯t often men didn¡¯t know how to handle their attraction to her. So instead, Razia took Quentin¡¯s much larger hand in hers and squeezed.


    ¡°I know. Don¡¯t worry Quentin. I give you my word that I¡¯m not going to tell people who you are, where you live, or that you¡¯ve got an unnatural attraction to islander girls.¡±


    ¡°Abuh?¡± Quentin made a distressed sound, turning to her.


    ¡°And I¡¯m not going to use my evil islander girl sex powers on you. Not intentionally, at least. If you are interested, you¡¯ll let me know. Until then, you¡¯re my friend and I¡¯ll lay off. I promise.¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Silence fell again, but it wasn¡¯t awkward. Razia reclined on her side of the sofa, watching Quentin pointedly stare at the ground, working through things silently. Eventually he bent over, grunting in pain as he grabbed the plates and limped his way to the kitchen. Once more a pang of guilt struck Razia, but more than ever it was backed by the need to follow through with her promise. For a change.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell anyone who you are,¡± Razia said when he came back. He froze in the middle of the atrium, listening. ¡°I mean that. But I¡¯ve got some clothes and things I would like to bring here. Would you mind if I had my friend Samantha help me bring them here?¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°That should be fine. You know what room you want to take?¡±


    Razia pointed at the one across from Quentin¡¯s, separated by the atrium. ¡°That one. That way you¡¯ll have your space.¡±


    He nodded again, approvingly. ¡°Do you want my help bringing stuff here?¡±


    Her eyes slid up and down the network of injuries across his chest and arms. ¡°No,¡± she said, ¡°I think I got it. You should take the day and rest. Spoil yourself, Quentin. You deserve more than you give yourself.¡±


    In response Quentin looked around his enormous house and then back to Razia, quirking a brow.


    ¡°I mean it,¡± she said.


    Finding Samantha at Inn and Out wasn¡¯t difficult. All Razia had to do was step through the door and the redhead called out her name.


    ¡°Over here!¡± Samantha waved her arms around, as if it was possible to miss her in the smallish room. Half the clientele ate outside on old barrels. The tables in here were small and couldn¡¯t hold the four people they were designed for. Most people chose to eat outside, but Samantha had a corner to herself. Herself, and the few men who sat near to check her out.


    ¡°You were so right. After I got here last night and had a good dinner and bottle of wine I felt SO much better,¡± Samantha gushed as Razia took the stool catty corner to her.


    ¡°If there¡¯s an ill that good food, drink, and company can¡¯t cure then I don¡¯t want to know about it.¡± Razia took a sip of Samantha¡¯s drink. ¡°There wasn¡¯t any trouble? No one came looking for you? Or for me?¡±


    The good cheer faded a bit, but Samantha didn¡¯t look put out. ¡°Nope. I mean, people found me, but they weren¡¯t looking for ME, I think. I¡¯m still worried about what I¡¯m going to do about daddy¡¯s debt. If I don¡¯t keep payments up, we¡¯ll lose the house.¡±


    Razia¡¯s heart broke as Samantha¡¯s face fell. Out of all of the people she¡¯d found since coming to Orchrisus, Samantha was possibly the most honest and sweet. Some people might¡¯ve pointed out unkindly that Samantha wasn¡¯t bright enough to lie. Razia hated that. Samantha wasn¡¯t stupid. She just kept things simple and straightforward. She was a breath of fresh air.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Razia said. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of that. I met up with Quentin last night and¡­¡± Razia tilted her head, thinking how to phrase it. ¡°We worked something out. I¡¯ll be staying with him to save on shards. I¡¯ll help with your debt.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s eyes welled up with grateful tears. ¡°Oh gods Razia, thank you! But what about you? Whatever you end up giving me, I swear I¡¯ll pay it back I just -- ¡°


    ¡°No no,¡± Razia waved her off. ¡°It¡¯s just money. Easy come, easy go. I¡¯ve thrown away more money than that on worse things.¡±


    In fact, she probably already had the amount Samantha owed. Razia had half a mind to pay the debt off herself. After the initial danger of pissing Otho and maybe Mr. Cicero had worn off, it would even be fun. It wasn¡¯t unlike getting bored of the old game and making a mess, just to start a new one. But she was down to the last of her shards. Razia was the first to admit she was bold, but she wasn¡¯t entirely reckless.


    ¡°How much was it again?¡±


    Samantha shrunk in her seat. As much as a woman of her size and bubbliness could ever shrink. ¡°Ah,¡± she said, licking her lips. ¡°Forty aquilos¡­If we can¡¯t pay...¡± She trailed off.


    Razia winced. No, it would clean her out and then some. She could buy them time though. ¡°We¡¯ll deal with it together. But first, I need something from you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Samantha leaned in.


    Razia smiled. ¡°Your brother Jack still have that Mooran rickshaw he drags people around in?¡±


    It turned out the only reason Jack still had a rickshaw was because no one wanted to buy it off of him. When beetle carts were common enough, few people wanted to be dragged around by a scrawny teenager in the blistering heat. As far as ideas to make some quick money in the busy city went, this one was a bust, but that made it perfect for Razia¡¯s needs.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, I guess,¡± Jack said from outside Samantha¡¯s family¡¯s surprisingly large home, staring down at his feet. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you want to buy it off me?¡±


    ¡°No, we just need it for today,¡± Samantha said, slapping his arm affectionately. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Jackie.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± he said reflexively, ears turning red.


    ¡°I think it suits you,¡± said Razia, enjoying the way the teen squirmed. ¡°But I was hoping to hire a strong young man like you. I¡¯ve got an important delivery and we couldn¡¯t possibly carry it all ourselves. What do you say, Jackie?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± he said, voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to.¡± He scampered off around the corner, presumably where the rickshaw was kept.


    ¡°See? No problem.¡± Razia beamed.


    Samantha sighed. ¡°Of course he says yes when you ask. Any time I try to get him to do his chores he¡¯s either busy or just gone.¡±


    A line of five kids ranging from four to ten ran out the front door, screaming the way playing children do. The oldest led the group, turning and zigzagging as the others mimicked her movements. ¡°Hey, no screaming!¡± Samantha scolded. The kids ignored her and ran down the street. Samantha shook her head fondly. ¡°Little brats.¡±


    ¡°You do a lot for your family, don¡¯t you?¡± Razia said, putting her hand on Samantha¡¯s shoulder and squeezing it.


    Samantha shrugged, but she was smiling. ¡°I gotta. Ma¡¯s been gone for four years now, and daddy¡¯s struggling to keep the home. Someone¡¯s gotta help him wrangle the other seven kids. He spends most of his time working to try to keep the house, and I bring half of what I make here to make sure the kids are fed. I¡¯m the big sister. I gotta.¡±


    A sharp pang struck Razia. She let out a low laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve got five siblings of my own. Only one of them would do anything to help me. And even then, Radha would give me no end of shit for it. Don¡¯t sell yourself short, Sam. You¡¯re a good big sister.¡±


    Samantha smiled, but her face burned and threatened to reach a shade close to her hair. She looked over Razia¡¯s shoulder and Razia turned to look. Jack came around the back with an old battered rickshaw behind him.


    One of the wheels was cracked and held together with tightly wound rope, and the seat was uneven and cracked from the sun. Standing in front of it, Jack looked too scrawny to pull that and passengers behind him. But he was excited, and enthusiasm counted more than competence sometimes.


    ¡°Ready when you ladies are,¡± Jack said, giving a formal bow.


    ¡°After you,¡± Razia motioned to Samantha.


    As bad as the rickshaw looked, the ride was even worse. As Jack picked up speed and turned onto a main road, Razia wondered if the thing wouldn¡¯t fall apart on the way there. Every few feet the uneven wheel made the entire thing jolt violently. Constant shakes had Samantha holding herself to stop the wild jiggle.


    ¡°Not a word,¡± Samantha said.


    Razia put her finger to her lips.


    The place Razia temporarily called home was a modest apartment building she saw maybe once a week. More often than not she was on the move, spending money as fast as she made it only to return home to deposit whatever was left over. It was a place for her to be invisible and occasionally rest. Most of the other residents kept to themselves, and the only problem she''d faced was with the owner.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Razia, stumbling off the rickshaw. She helped Samantha down after her. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t take too long. We¡¯re just here to pick up a couple of dresses, a small chest of jewelry, and some money. We can be in and out in five minutes. Just keep your eye out.¡±


    ¡°Keep our eyes out for what?¡± asked Samantha, who looked a bit green from the trip. Jackie¡¯s satisfied grin at a successful ride dropped.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Razia forced a smile on her face. ¡°Nothing, really. How about you wait here, Jack, and we¡¯ll quickly go up?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± said Jack, hopping into the back of the rickshaw and stretching out. ¡°I could use a break anyway.¡±


    Together, Samantha and Razia went in. The place was as quiet as apartments get, which meant there were only two people shouting at each other and the sound of kids playing too loud. It was laid out almost identically to most of the shared living spaces in Orchrisus. The downstairs was largely a common area with a kitchen attached, and stairs leading up to the two stories above it where people dwelled. Razia scanned the room and led them to the stairs.


    They were halfway up the stairs when Razia first felt it. As sharp as she was, she hadn¡¯t survived this long in the dangerous city without her instincts to guide her. There¡¯d been no trouble at all since leaving the Silk Lounge with Samantha and company. None. Even finding a new place to live had been swimmingly easy. Nothing came this easy in Orchrisus.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Razia said a few steps from the second floor. Samantha tilted her head but Razia held a finger to her lips. Carefully, she peeked an eye around the corner. Her room was at the end of the hall. The door was open, and the landlord was there, talking to someone inside. Razia¡¯s blood turned to ice. She didn¡¯t know she¡¯d made a sound until Samantha tugged on her shirt.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Samantha asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been found,¡± said Razia.

 Chapter 17: Slippery Women

    Chapter 17: Slippery Women


    ¡°Here? NOW?¡± Samantha¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± Razia frantically waved her hands before peeking around the corner. The landlord stood in the hallway and he was talking to the people inside her apartment with what passed for his inside voice. As loud as he was, Razia couldn¡¯t quite make out what he was saying. ¡°Shit. Let me think.¡±


    There was no telling how much time she had, or whether they would just close the door and wait for her inside. A week ago Razia only had one person she¡¯d pissed off enough to want her dead. Now it was three or four, and there was no way of telling who they worked for. Briefly, the idea of it just being a maid and the landlord crossed her mind. She wouldn¡¯t put past either of them to try and rob her during one of her long absences.


    It could¡¯ve been that, but odds were not on her side. Neither was time. The longer they stood on the stairs the greater the chance someone would come by. Luckily, this is where she thrived. Razia took a deep breath and held it in. When she let it out, she had the start of a plan. ¡°Alright. Samantha, I¡¯m going to need your help.


    It took a couple minutes to set up. Long enough for Razia to think about the dozen ways it could go disastrously wrong or just fall short. She hated having to rely on people she didn¡¯t know well enough to predict, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Samantha understood her part in it well enough, but Jackie had her worried.


    ¡°You sure about this?¡± he asked, looking up at the stairs doubtfully.


    ¡°You¡¯ll do fine,¡± said Samantha. ¡°You¡¯re the best liar in the family by far!¡±


    ¡°Am not,¡± he protested.


    ¡°See? I believed you for a second.¡±


    ¡°Focus,¡± Razia hissed. She pushed a battered metal key into Jackie¡¯s hand and closed it. ¡°Just take this and hold it out like you were expecting to go through the door at the end. Be surprised when you see people there. They¡¯re going to ask you questions about me. You don¡¯t know anything other than where you saw me and what I told you. Got it?¡±


    The teen closed his hand over the key. He swallowed hard and nodded. ¡°Y-yeah, I think so. They¡¯re not gonna hurt me, are they?¡±


    Razia flashed him a reassuring smile. ¡°If they hit you, I¡¯ll kiss it better after. They¡¯re not gonna give two craps about you once they go after me. That¡¯ll give you time for part two.¡±


    That didn¡¯t seem to ease his fears much, but he gave her a shaky nod. ¡°Okay.¡± With one last look to his sister he climbed the stairs. Razia and Samantha hurried down the stairs and around the corner, into the nook right next to the kitchen. Samantha stood in front of Razia, looking only mildly conspicuous next to the barrels of food and wine.


    As far as her plans went, this one was bottom of the barrel. It relied entirely on luck, a teenage boy, and the stupidity of her enemies. As the seconds dragged on and Samantha shifted impatiently from foot to foot, Razia tried to reassure herself that her plan wasn¡¯t stupid, it was just simple. The simpler the plan, the fewer things there were that could go wrong, right? If things went sour, she could break away and give Samantha and Jackie a chance to run for it and --


    Thunder erupted above them. Three people came storming down the stairs, dragging Jackie by the back of his shirt. Razia made herself as small as possible, trusting in Samantha¡¯s size to hide her from sight and stomping down a smidgeon of guilt about it. She needn¡¯t have worried. The four of them went forward without looking back at them. The two mercenaries, a man and a woman, shook Jackie as they interrogated him, but Razia couldn¡¯t make out the words as they went out the front door.


    ¡°Oh no, Jackie¡­¡± Samantha winced.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be okay, I promise,¡± said Razia, standing up. ¡°Hurting him badly would be unwanted attention, and they think they¡¯re about to catch me. Alright, you ready for part two?¡±


    Samantha bit her lip, but nodded. Her optimism was hard to challenge, but she was clearly afraid of the current situation. That fear gave Razia strength enough for both of them.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing good Sam, I promise. In an hour we¡¯ll be laughing about this. Now go outside and bring it around to the window at the end, okay?¡±


    ¡°Right. What if they see me?¡± Samantha¡¯s eyes flitted back to the door. The landlord stood in the entrance looking out, tugging at his hair.


    ¡°If they see you and go after you: run. Forget about me. Well,¡± Razia amended with a nervous laugh, ¡°maybe let out a blood curdling scream so I know things went tits up and I have to run too.¡± She put her hands on Samantha¡¯s shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze before bolting up the stairs.


    In their haste, the mercenaries left the door open. Razia peeked inside cautiously, wary of a potential third person staying behind just in case. She winced. No third person but the room was torn apart. The closet had been emptied out onto the floor and her nicest clothes were scattered everywhere. Her jewelry box and small lockbox were on the bed, upturned. Shards, rings, necklaces, and Islander silver coins were dumped in a pile.


    Razia took a deep breath. This made things a lot more difficult. She had no clue how long she had to gather her shit and get the hell out of there, but she gave it a few minutes until they realized she wasn¡¯t where she¡¯d ¡®met¡¯ Jackie before sending him up to the room. They hadn¡¯t seemed to rob her, but the mess was going to cost her time. As she let out her breath, she had a list to follow.


    First thing she did was close the door and lock it. That¡¯d buy her at least 10 seconds when the time came. She scooped up the shards and jewels and put them all in the jewelry box, closing it haphazardly. Razia ran to the window. Down on the ground, Samantha was just now coming up with the rickshaw, panting as she pulled it behind her. She flashed a grin to Razia, who grinned back.


    Looking now, the fall was higher than Razia pictured. ¡°Watch your head,¡± Razia called down in a raised whisper. This wasn¡¯t too bad a problem. She stripped the bed and threw it out the window. It landed half on the rickshaw, half on the ground. Samantha quickly picked it up and packed the back of the rickshaw with it. Next came the clothes, tossed out by the handful. That one hurt. Her clothes were her weapons and armor, the tools of her trade, and one of the best ways to instantly feel good about herself. Each tossed fistful of clothes was dutifully scooped up by Samantha and stuck with the rest. The rickshaw was already getting full and she still had plenty more to throw.


    Jackie came stumbling into the alley, out of breath and sporting a brand new black eye. He waved his arms wildly in the air. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± he cried.


    That nervous bundle of energy in Razia¡¯s stomach plummeted. Seconds later, the door to her apartment rattled. And again before the people on the other side let out an angry exclamation. ¡°Shiiiiiiiit,¡± she groaned.


    She ran for the bed and pushed for all that she was worth. Painfully slowly it moved along the floor, making an awful scraping sound against the clay. The bed went in front of the door, and the dresser she pulled down on top of the bed.


    ¡°Come on out of there,¡± a woman¡¯s voice called out. ¡°You¡¯ve got nowhere to go. We¡¯re not going to hurt you, we just want to talk.¡±


    Razia let out an unhinged laugh. ¡°Do you know how many times I¡¯ve heard that one?¡± she called back. ¡°Does anyone fall for that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised,¡± a male voice said. ¡°What if we really, really meant it this time?¡±


    ¡°Mmm. I¡¯m gonna have to pass, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Razia returned, smiling in spite of herself.


    ¡°Think of it this way sweetie,¡± the woman called, drumming her fingers on the door. ¡°If we have to break through, we¡¯re going to have to pay for the door and that¡¯ll put us in a bad mood. If we¡¯re in a good mood, you get to meet up with the boss with your legs unbroken. Doesn¡¯t that sound better?¡±


    Razia¡¯s heart pounded mercilessly. It was that strange combination of fear and excitement she couldn¡¯t get enough of. ¡°Oh, it does. I¡¯m thinking we¡¯re at a solid maybe now. Who sent you?¡±


    The man laughed. ¡°The man you just royally pissed off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to be more specific, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Razia grabbed the heavy jewelry box. There was still a good amount of her jewelry that wouldn¡¯t fit with the shards in there too. But this was the last thing she needed.


    ¡°Look,¡± the woman said, ¡°you¡¯ve got nowhere to go and we¡¯re getting impatient. You can¡¯t stay in there forever.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Razia, stepping over to the window. She hefted the jewelry box up to the window. It was only a fifteen foot drop. ¡°And I don¡¯t intend to!¡± Razia dropped the box over the vague center of the waiting Rickshaw. She missed and the box hit a rickety wheel and continued on to the ground, spilling open sideways.


    A chorus of ¡°Shit¡± sounded from the three of them. Samantha dropped to the ground and scooped up the valuables while the couple of other stragglers in the alley stood and moved closer. ¡°Back up,¡± Jackie said, putting himself between Samantha and the stranger. ¡°Get the hell away from us.¡± The closest, a down on his luck man in his late fifties, leered at him.


    ¡°Alright, we warned you.¡± The man on the other side of the door genuinely sounded regretful, but that didn¡¯t stop him and his partner from busting down the door. A large heavy crash later and the doorknob and part of the wall came spilling over the bed and along the ground. A green eye appeared in the new hole, locking onto her and narrowing.


    Razia smiled and waved cheerfully at the mercenary as she stepped onto the window ledge. ¡°Tell your boss I¡¯ll come see him. At my earliest convenience. Byyyyye!¡± Razia grabbed a fistful of vines and dropped from the window. The vines snapped away from the lattice going up the walls, slowing her fall until she landed roughly on the ground, knees jolting from the impact.


    She ran at the straggler, waving her arms and screaming wildly. He stared for a second before he took off and ran, not wanting to deal with another of Orchrisus¡¯ crazies. Razia howled with laughter, heart racing and thundering in her head. ¡°Come on,¡± she cried, helping lift the battered jewelry box to the rickshaw¡¯s seat. ¡°We need to leave, now.¡±


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    No one had any arguments. Jackie grabbed the handles in front and pulled. It rolled forward a few feet without issue before the wheel faltered and splintered. Two more steps and the wheel wobbled wildly before coming off entirely. ¡°Shit,¡± Jackie swore again, bracing himself so the entire thing didn¡¯t topple over sideways. Razia dove to that side and shoved her shoulder against it. Samantha joined her a second later.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go,¡± Razia urged, pushing hard. Jackie nodded and together with Samantha¡¯s help Razia held that side up as they hurried out of the alley and onto the main street, looking behind them for pursuers.


    None came, or at least not at first. They hurried the rickshaw west, barreling down the street as people quickly got out of the way. This was the part Razia had worried about at first. Transporting her valuables in broad daylight in the middle of Orchrisus was a great way to no longer have those valuables to worry about. If some unscrupulous bastard stopped them and demanded whatever they had, no one was likely to stop and help them unless the Watch was in earshot, and even then....


    In the end, it seemed like the odd sight of a bruised teenager pulling a one wheeled rickshaw while two wildly different looking women held up the side was too much to be worth disturbing. Orchrisans knew when to mind their own business. When the people at the inn didn¡¯t reveal themselves, Razia let herself finally begin to relax. ¡°Alright, I think we¡¯re good. How are you doing up there Jackie? What happened?¡±


    Jackie looked over his shoulder. His eye was puffy and bruised and there was a cut in his upper lip. ¡°It wasn¡¯t so bad,¡± he said, forcing a laugh. ¡°I went up there like you told me and they grabbed me. I got a little sc- they surprised me with how fast they started asking the questions, so I froze. They hit me a couple of times. It didn¡¯t hurt, though!¡±


    Razia smiled at him and shook her head. ¡°Of course not. You¡¯re a tough kid. They¡¯d have to do a lot worse than that to get to you.¡±


    Her words had the intended effect and Jackie puffed up with pride. His back straightened and he walked taller. ¡°Yeah! I finally told them and they took me with them. When they saw you weren¡¯t in the market like I said, they hurried back.¡±


    ¡°And now we lost them. Good work, everyone!¡± Razia let out a laugh. They were safe now, with very little lost along the way. Almost all of it was on Jackie. She¡¯d have to pay him back for his rickshaw. Just another debt added on top of the others, but at least this one would be easy. She winked at the teen, who flushed and faced the road again.


    ¡°Who sent them?¡± Samantha spoke up for the first time since they¡¯d started running. ¡°You think it was Otho?¡±


    Razia shrugged. ¡°Could be. But I¡¯m not sure just how much he has left he could throw at us. Otho¡¯s small time. It could be Mr. Cicero. I¡¯m going to have to talk to him.¡± Unless it was Otho, who was dipping into everything he had to punish her for fucking with his business. Or those muggers. Or maybe Piro and his pet dog Christophe finally sent someone her way. She¡¯d been so brazen lately it would almost serve her right if word reached them.


    She felt a twinge of unease. Maybe she should take this opportunity with Quentin to lay low, instead of going out and attracting more trouble. It had always been a game, seeing whose noses Razia could tweak and get away with it. Most of the time she got away with it, occasionally she had to pay for her mistakes, but she¡¯d never had a friend be the one who got hurt for it. The risk wasn¡¯t over for Samantha, and Razia was going to make sure nothing worse happened to her friend.


    ¡°They hit Jackie,¡± Samantha said in an unfamiliar tone. Razia turned around. The redhead was steaming in place, face contorted with building rage. ¡°He¡¯s just a kid and they smacked him around!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid!¡± Jackie shouted, drawing even more looks from the people in the street.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to handle it,¡± said Razia. ¡°I¡¯m the one causing trouble, you¡¯re just along for the ride. I¡¯m going to take care of the mercs, and I¡¯m gonna do something about your debt. I promise. I can¡¯t pay it all, but I can make a dent in it, or maybe convince Mr. Cicero to let me buy the debt off him.¡±


    Samantha shifted her grip on the rickshaw and squeezed Razia¡¯s arm. ¡°Thanks Razia. Just knowing daddy¡¯s not gonna get punished for me walking out¡¯ll be good. You know any good, safe places to work? The Silk Lounge was great for that. Until it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°A few,¡± Razia nodded. She looked around. They were getting closer to Quentin¡¯s neighborhood. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. ¡°But if you want to make some real money, I know a few rich, dirty old men who¡¯d be willing to pay out their ass for a special show, if you¡¯re up for it.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, that sounds fun,¡± a voice said from right behind her. ¡°Look who we have here, boys.¡±


    A chill ran down Razia¡¯s spine. She looked over her shoulder to find three shirtless, tattooed men behind them. Although it was dark and lasted only minutes, Razia recognized them immediately. ¡°Oh hey,¡± she said, unable to stop the shit eating grin from spreading across her face. It was the best way to hide the renewed surge of fear. ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize you with the fucked up nose. How¡¯s that healing?¡±


    The leader¡¯s face darkened. The big guy and short one stood behind him, arms crossed over their chests in a classic intimidation group pose. ¡°This is nothing compared to what Christophe is gonna do to you when we take you in. Get her, boys.¡±


    ¡°Razia?¡± Samantha looked between her and the gang nervously.


    ¡°Just like before: RUN.¡± Razia shoved hard on the rickshaw. Jackie put on a burst of speed and Samantha scurried to catch up.


    Running away from these three had been hard enough when it was just her and Quentin and a dark night full of places to hide. Now, pulling/pushing a one legged rickshaw down a busy street, things weren¡¯t looking too good for them. For every person who got the hell out of their way as Jackie ran as far as his scrawny legs would allow, there were more who froze and cost them precious fractions of a second as the teen jerked hard on the handles to avoid colliding with them. Samantha struggled the most, holding up the rear end. She wasn¡¯t the fastest person on the best of days and now she was struggling to keep up as the trio slowly closed the distance between them.


    Ten feet. Five feet. The biggest of them pushed past the leader and the short one and reached out. His fingers brushed the back of Samantha¡¯s curly red hair before closing on nothing. Samantha let out a surprised scream. Razia had to think, and think quickly.


    She reached for the chest in the back of the rickshaw. This worked well for Quentin, so why not for her? Razia grabbed a fistful of shards and threw them on the ground. ¡°FREE SHARDS!¡± she shrieked, grabbing a second fistful and throwing them straight in the air.


    The odd spectacle of two women and a teen dragging a broken rickshaw around kept people at bay for the most part. The spectacle of a woman throwing money around had the opposite effect. Bystanders dropped what they were doing and dove for the shards. Even the shortest of their pursuers paused, then stopped and shoved people out of the way as he scooped up the polished glass. The leader and the big one kept going, shoving past those who stopped.


    It didn¡¯t stop them, but it slowed them. Razia looked ahead. They were so close now. ¡°Take a left here,¡± she shouted for Jackie¡¯s benefit. ¡°NOW.¡± She shoved the side of the rickshaw a hard right and Samantha mimicked her as Jackie pulled it around, leading them down the side street that led to Quentin¡¯s sanctuary of a home.


    The home stretch was a straightaway with no one around. There was nothing left to slow them down, but the same was true for their two pursuers. As soon as they broke away from the crowd the two tattooed men gained on them. Worse yet, Razia¡¯s legs were like rubbery lead and her knees screamed in pain. Samantha gasped for air and stumbled.


    The rickshaw kept going for another few seconds before Razia realized Samantha had dropped. She looked on with numb shock as Samantha rolled to a stop and the two men came up to her. A scream welled up in her throat and died as panic jolted her wide awake. ¡°Go go go inside here,¡± Razia yelled at Jackie, looking back at Samantha one last time.


    Jackie did as he was told. They turned into the opening in the walls that led to the center courtyard. Their commotion preceded them. Two of the guards working the square were waiting for them. One of them jumped in front of Jackie, hands up to stop him from going any further. Another reached for Razia but she ducked under and put the last of her strength into one final burst of speed. She sucked in a big gulp of air and screamed, ¡°QUENTIN!¡±


    She fell to the grass, heart thundering nonstop in her throat. No matter how hard she tried to breathe, nothing came to her. They had Samantha. Gods, they had Samantha, and it was all Razia¡¯s fault. Her eyes burned as badly as her chest and her breath hitched again. She fought to get to her feet. A strong hand took hers and pulled her the rest of the way.


    Quentin loomed over, eyes narrowed in a way that made him look murderous. His harsh features were stretched in a natural snarl. ¡°What happened? What¡¯s going on?¡± He looked past her towards the gates, shifting from foot to foot with coiling energy.


    ¡°Those guys from the other night,¡± Razia gasped. ¡°Samantha.¡± She pointed.


    Quentin grimaced. ¡°Stay behind me.¡±


    He limped forward in short, shuddering steps. Razia remembered then how battered he was, and how today was supposed to be his day to rest and recover. She¡¯d fucked up his day just like she¡¯d fucked up Samantha¡¯s, and now he was going out there for her. To clean up her mess. Razia swallowed a lump in her throat. Quentin¡¯s steps straightened out and became stronger after a few steps. He drew himself up as the first of the guards came to meet him.


    ¡°Quintius? The hell is going on here, who is sh --¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s with me, she lives here now. There are bandits out there,¡± Quentin said in a tone that made it clear he would not be slowed down. They pushed past the man and went out the gates.


    The two men were there, rejoined by the short, round one. The big one had Samantha¡¯s wrists in his hands and held them above her head. Her feet remained on the ground only by the tips of her toes. The leader had his knife out and against her throat. ¡°Razia!¡± She called out.


    ¡°There we go,¡± the leader said. ¡°Told you we¡¯d just need to wait, Gregor!¡±


    The big one grinned and looked down. ¡°Shoulda just walked off with this one. Made them come to us while we had a little fun, eh Markus?¡±


    The short one shook his head. ¡°Not my type.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Quentin barked, sharp enough to make both Razia and the leader jump. ¡°Release her and leave. Now.¡±


    The leader let out an incredulous laugh. ¡°Why should we do that, Quentin? Quentin Quintius,¡± he sneered, eyes still puffy from his injury. ¡°Did your bitch mother hate you so much she named you somethin¡¯ that stupid? You hideous freak.¡±


    Quentin stared him down unblinkingly. ¡°The last time you got away with just a broken nose. If you don¡¯t walk away right now I¡¯ll do worse.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just kill him Phil,¡± Gregor said. ¡°There¡¯s three of us and one of him. No one¡¯s coming for him.¡±


    Razia looked back. The guards were still hiding behind the walls instead of doing their damned job and protecting the neighborhood. ¡°Samantha, we¡¯re gonna get you out of here, I promise.¡±


    Phil twirled his glass knife in his hands. ¡°Sure. Trade her for you. We don¡¯t even want the fat whore. We just want you,¡± he pointed the dagger in her direction. ¡°You¡¯re gonna come with us and Christophe¡¯s gonna pay us a small fortune and then...Well, I¡¯d hate to be you. Or maybe we¡¯ll sell you to the fat man in the silk robes. You¡¯ve pissed a lot of people off, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Anger welled up in her chest. She opened her mouth but Quentin took a step forward, drawing a huge knife from his belt. He held it out to the side as if showing it off. He didn¡¯t say anything then, he just glared and waited. The three thugs were silent at first, withering under his glare.


    ¡°Alright, screw this, Gregor is right,¡± Phil hissed. ¡°Three of us, one of him.¡±


    ¡°Two of you,¡± Quentin corrected, nodded towards Gregor. ¡°Unless you want her to get away. So just the two of you.¡± He took another step forward. The others took a step back. ¡°Which one first? You might get me, but I¡¯ll take at least one of you with me. Which of you are willing to die for some shards?¡±


    Razia dared to hope things were going to be alright. Seeing the looks of realization on those idiots¡¯ faces as Quentin¡¯s words sunk in, she wanted to laugh. They were crumbling before her very eyes. Quentin¡¯s permanent scowl and statue-like stillness was doing it. And then she heard footsteps and she let out the laugh she was holding in.


    Sure enough, one of the guards had finally gotten off his ass and came around, pike lowered and aimed at them. He came up next to Quentin, jaw set. ¡°Release her and get away from this neighborhood. Watch doesn¡¯t care if we kill intruders.¡±


    Two versus two was worse odds than they cared to deal with. Phil sneered at them and backed up. He motioned for Gregor to release Samantha. ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± he said. ¡°We know where you live now. We¡¯re going to get you!¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Leave.¡±


    Samantha ran for them, eyes welling up with tears. Razia met her halfway, throwing her arms around her and squeezing as if she¡¯d disappear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I fell,¡± she said, sniffling.


    Razia was crying too and laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize for that you silly bitch. It¡¯s my fault this happened to you. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    Beside them, Quentin slumped and let out a groan. ¡°Thank the gods they left. I can¡¯t see a thing.¡±

 Chapter 18: In Hot Water

    Chapter 18: In Hot Water


    ¡°Look, you need to guarantee you¡¯re not gonna be bringing more trouble here,¡± the chief of security for the neighborhood said in a weary tone. After the three men ran off, the guards escorted Samantha and Razia inside and took Quentin off to the side to question him about his guests and the disturbance. The chief had the two of them brought to him for a final lecture. ¡°You¡¯ve lived here for how long, Quintius?¡±


    ¡°Eight years,¡± Quentin replied. He stood hunched over, eyes squinting, arms crossed over his chest. Razia was beginning to understand his interpersonal problems. At complete rest he still looked like trouble, but his soft voice and even tone did a lot to make him sound less dangerous. ¡°In that time, have there been any complaints about me?¡±


    The chief¡¯s eyes dropped. ¡°None that had any substance to them,¡± he said apologetically, nodding in Quentin¡¯s direction. Quentin grunted in understanding. ¡°You¡¯re quiet and you keep to yourself. The worst problem you got is your shitty hours, coming and going in the middle of the night. You have no idea how many newbies nearly jump you.¡± He let out a bark of laughter.


    ¡°Then you gotta know Quentin¡¯s not going to bring any more trouble here,¡± Razia added, wrapping her arm around Quentin¡¯s. ¡°He¡¯s a good man.¡± The ever present scowl morphed into something happier.


    ¡°It¡¯s not him what worries me,¡± the Chief growled, looking at Razia pointedly. ¡°I know you lived alone ¡®til now, and it was quiet. You show up here and suddenly there¡¯s armed men at our front doors?'''' The chief sighed and rubbed at his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right,¡± Razia said, bowing her head. ¡°They came after us as we were moving my belongings here and chased me. I don¡¯t see it happening again.¡± She let go of Quentin¡¯s arm and hugged herself, shrinking down until she truly looked small. ¡°I¡¯m just glad Quentin and your men were able to help. We would¡¯ve been¡­¡± She looked away.


    The Chief cleared his throat. ¡°My boys are good at what they do. You¡¯ll be safe here. Just...Just be careful. Welcome to Argonza Villas.¡± He gave them a respectful nod and then cleared out with his men. Quentin and Razia stood alone outside the gates to his garden.


    Quentin waited until he was sure they were alone before he said to Razia, ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s laying it on a bit thick?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Razia said brightly, straightening up. ¡°A guy like that has a really boring job for people who tend to be difficult. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen to him today. I bet he likes feeling like he¡¯s protecting small, helpless women.¡±


    He rolled his eyes. ¡°Do you want to talk to me about what happened, and why there were those three men after you?¡±


    Razia shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Five people chased us. Two groups. I owe you a lot of answers Quentin, and I promise you¡¯ll get them. But can I check on Samantha first?¡±


    Quentin considered her and nodded. He gestured towards their home. His home, Razia reminded herself. She hadn¡¯t even been there a day and she¡¯d given him more than enough reason to throw her ass out. If he didn¡¯t right now, he would by the end of the explanations. Still, she could get used to the large home and the pocket of quiet inside.


    Samantha and Jackie were waiting in the Atrium, staring up into the skylight, and the rising moon in the dusk gloom. Razia came up to them, sliding an arm around each shoulder as she looked up as well.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been in a house with this big a hole in the roof,¡± Jackie said in muted awe. ¡°It looks beautiful!¡± He turned to look at Quentin with surprise and reverence. ¡°Are you like, a rich person or something?¡±


    Quentin folded his arms on his chest. ¡°Or something,¡± he said, sounding amused. ¡°All the homes around here have them. You should see when the stars are out.¡±


    Razia gently pulled Samantha to the side. ¡°How are you doing?¡± Razia asked in a low voice. ¡°Did they hurt you?¡± She looked the redhead up and down, noting every bruise and scrape. The stumble had sent her into a rough tumble before they¡¯d even touched her, and she was covered in a layer of sand and dirt.


    ¡°I feel gross!¡± Samantha admitted. ¡°It was kinda scary at the moment. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve been grabbed like that, but it¡¯s...This wasn¡¯t some drunk men not hearing no, you know? I knew you weren¡¯t going to leave me like that.¡± Her cheer was dimmed, but not totally gone.


    ¡°We really have to thank Quentin for that,¡± Razia said, raising her voice and looking behind her. Quentin stood there frozen, looking uncertain. ¡°That¡¯s twice now he¡¯s bailed both of our asses out of possible trouble. I owe him a lot. And Jackie too!¡±


    The teenager puffed up with pride. The puffiness around his eye had only gotten worse and he could barely see out of it. ¡°Yeah! I was coming too,¡± he insisted. ¡°There¡¯s no way I was gonna let them hurt my sister.¡±


    ¡°Of course not Jackie. You¡¯re not a total jerk, most of the time.¡± Samantha ruffled Jackie¡¯s hair while he slapped at her hands. Then she turned to Quentin and got closer than the man seemed to like. She had her hands on his chest and looked up at him with starry eyes. Razia bit back laughter. It wasn¡¯t long ago she¡¯d tried the same move on him. He had the same look of both interest and severe discomfort.


    ¡°And you...Well Mr. Q, you¡¯re looking to be my guardian spirit again.¡± Samantha said, small smile on her face while her fingers moved up his chest.


    He took her fingers in his hand and gently pulled them away. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. The first time I didn¡¯t save you. I just didn¡¯t kill you. Not that I was ever planning on it,¡± he added quickly. ¡°It¡¯s just, you don¡¯t have to think anything of it, it¡¯s just¡­¡± Quentin took a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Don¡¯t think anything of it. Welcome to my home, you¡¯re free to rest here and I¡¯ll escort you home later.¡±


    He sounded so much more formal, Razia noted with amusement. He was trying to keep Samantha at arm¡¯s length with casual manners, but it had the opposite effect. ¡°You¡¯re so sweet! I at least owe you a free fuck. As my way of saying thanks for looking out for me.¡± She smiled widely, looking proud of herself while Quentin blinked.


    ¡°Hey,¡± said Razia, taking some pity on the poor man. ¡°How about you and me get cleaned up, huh Sam?¡± She put her arm around her again and pulled her away from Quentin. The tension left his body immediately. ¡°Quentin¡¯s got this amazing bath I¡¯ve been meaning to try out.¡± She flashed Quentin a grin.


    He shook his head, smiling. ¡°You were looking for an excuse this entire time, weren¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, grinning. ¡°The best solutions are ones that fit multiple problems. Samantha¡¯s filthy, a hot bath could soothe her nerves, and also I want to. Do you mind watching¡­?¡± Razia nodded towards Jackie, who was looking up out of the skylight again.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin said. ¡°I guess I can do that. The boy deserves a drink after helping out today. And I could use a drink. And also I want one.¡±


    ¡°See? You¡¯re catching on.¡±


    The bath was as luxurious as she remembered. Unfortunately that meant that it was much more work to pump enough water to fill it. With Razia and Samantha taking turns it only took a couple of minutes. ¡°So you¡¯ve found yourself a rich patron, huh?¡± said Samantha as the last of the water sloshed along the rim of the tub.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Razia said. She reached into the box of ember chips and took out a tiny orange sliver. She broke it in half and dropped it into the water. Within seconds the water was roiling, rapidly heating up and steaming the room.


    Samantha¡¯s jaw dropped as she saw it work. ¡°You sure? Sure looks like a rich patron to me. If I want a bucket of hot water to clean up I have to pay for it. Mister Q¡¯s got all of this? Who is this man?¡± She dipped a finger into the water and pulled it back when it burned.


    The washroom was now muggy. Razia slipped out of her clothes. ¡°He does pretty well,¡± she said diplomatically, ¡°but he¡¯s not a client. He¡¯s a friend, and frankly I owe him. Let¡¯s just say he does expensive contract work.¡±


    The redhead made a sound of understanding. ¡°So he does kill people for money,¡± she said, stripping as well. Samantha dipped her finger in again and kept it there. She nodded to Razia and they both stepped down into the tub, feeling the hot water bite at their skin. They sank down, both sighing theatrically.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°He gets paid for bounties, yes.¡± That was more or less what he¡¯d said last night, before they turned in. Normally Razia was all about dancing around answers with friends, but these weren¡¯t her secrets. He already had grounds to throw her ass out and leave her to her own devices. Razia wasn¡¯t going to make that worse. ¡°I can¡¯t believe those assholes found me as I was running from someone else.¡±


    Samantha took the bait. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, eyes lighting up. ¡°Were those the guys Quentin warned you about? They looked rough. Not like tough, but poor and gross. Like dirty, stray ¡®wallas.¡±


    Razia moved closer to Samantha and put her legs on the other woman¡¯s lap while her arms circled the rim of the tub. ¡°The night I met Quentin, those guys trapped us in an alley. Quentin punched one out and we took off running. Gave them the slip and had fun drinking and shooting the shit at Maggie¡¯s. Guess they couldn¡¯t get me out of their heads. Not that anyone could blame them.¡± Razia stretched, smirking.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Samantha. Shaking her head with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re smart, gorgeous, fashionable¡­¡± Razia made a series of increasingly arrogant and self-aggrandizing faces with each quality listed. ¡°...But more than that, it¡¯s never boring around you. Hard to forget you when things get that crazy.¡± She laughed.


    But Razia¡¯s smile fell and that awful oily feeling of guilt and responsibility came back. She didn¡¯t care for it. ¡°Again, I¡¯m really sorry about all that.¡± Razia sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve kind of made a bunch of messes. I think I might take this opportunity to lay low for a bit.¡±


    Samantha snorted.


    ¡°I mean it!¡± Razia protested. ¡°Aside from still working, maybe I should avoid pissing off anymore dangerous people for a while.¡± Samantha didn¡¯t look convinced. Razia couldn¡¯t blame her. Even as she said the words and meant them in the moment, it didn¡¯t take long before her mind came up with exceptions and justifications why it would be smarter, sometimes, to piss people off.. ¡°I bet it¡¯s easy to hate me right now.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Samantha shook her head. The plump redhead sank deeper into the water until only her head was above it. She closed her eyes and soaked it all in. ¡°This kind of makes it worth it. I¡¯d be okay with getting grabbed and groped if it meant getting a nice bath every time I did.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? You¡¯d drown.¡±


    Samantha laughed, but it faded quickly and was replaced with quiet contemplation. ¡°It is nice though,¡± she said. ¡°Things¡¯ve been rough lately. Between the kids, dad, the crap with Otho...It¡¯s nice to just soak and let my troubles wait on me for a change.¡± She looked over at Razia with a sad smile. ¡°Feels like I¡¯ve been drowning from under all of that, but being in the water makes it hurt less. At least for a little while.¡±


    Razia found Samantha¡¯s hand and squeezed it. ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡± Now that their lives were no longer in danger, Razia had plenty of time to think things through. She let her mind drift away as the two soaked in companionable silence. So many problems, and most of them were tangled up in each other. If you pulled at one string, it made the others worse. The trick was finding the strings you could safely pull and make the tangle easier.


    ¡°You know what would be a good way of thanking Quentin?¡± Razia brightened up as the thought crossed her. ¡°You could always cook him dinner. I¡¯d bet he doesn¡¯t get a home cooked meal often.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a great idea! If men aren¡¯t thinking with their dicks, they¡¯re thinking with their stomachs.¡± That solved three problems right there.


    They returned to find Quentin and Jackie standing side by side, punching the air. ¡°You have to put your entire body into it,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Twist your hips!¡± He demonstrated a quick punch, snapping forward and turning at the waist and returning back to a resting stance.


    ¡°Like this?¡± Jackie copied him, performing mostly the same move at half speed.


    ¡°Yeah. But faster, and in one smooth motion. Aim for a spot behind their head.¡±


    Samantha cleared her throat, making Quentin jump. ¡°You¡¯re not teaching my baby brother anything dangerous are you?¡±


    As Jackie protested his status as baby brother, Razia took Quentin by the arm and pulled him away, nodding to Samantha who grabbed Jackie and took him with her to the kitchen. Razia wanted some privacy for the upcoming talk.


    ¡°How is she? How are you?¡± Quentin asked as he sat on the couch at her direction. Razia remained standing, idling with her hands.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine. She told me the bath made up for it¡± Razia smiled, despite the growing pit in her stomach. It wasn¡¯t often she was nervous dealing with others. It wasn¡¯t often she stirred up this much trouble in a short period of time. She reminded herself that fleeing the city was always an option. ¡°I¡¯m okay too. Mostly just embarrassed. And really sorry.¡±


    Quentin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sorry for what? They were actively looking for you. If you¡¯re going to stay there they were likely to find you eventually. Besides, those three? I¡¯m not worried.¡± He really did look calm. Cheerful, even. ¡°We¡¯ll just need to check our surroundings when we¡¯re coming or going. They can¡¯t watch every exit all the time.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t what she was expecting, but Razia wasn¡¯t about to complain. ¡°True. Still, I led trouble right to your front door. And there might be more coming. Remember how I said there were two groups of people? The other one either works for Otho or Mr. Cicero.¡±


    Quentin set his jaw. ¡°I was hoping I wasn¡¯t right about that. So you¡¯ve pissed off three idiots, the manager of the Silk Lounge, and Mr. Cicero himself. Maybe. Anyone else you pissed off you want to tell me about?¡±


    ¡°You ever hear of Piro Pentius? Or Christophe the Warlord?¡±


    ¡°No to the first. The second¡­¡± He furrowed his brow, concentrating. ¡°Yeah, I recall him. I was set to execute him six weeks ago. He escaped along with two others and¡­Wait. The night we met, the first man I executed. Horace.¡± Quentin¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°He was executed for freeing Christophe. Is that why you were there that night?¡±


    Razia nodded. ¡°I know it¡¯s not, but it feels almost like it¡¯s my fault he died. I know if it wasn¡¯t him it would¡¯ve been some other poor bastard Piro bribed or extorted. Still, I felt like I owed it to him to watch. And I was curious to see if Piro would be there to watch it happen. He wasn¡¯t.¡±


    Quentin rubbed at his eyes. ¡°What did you do to piss Piro and Christophe off, then?¡±


    ¡°With Christophe, I¡¯m the one who got him arrested and sentenced to death.¡± Razia spread her hands out with an apologetic smile. ¡°I knew where they were going to be pulling off a job and I let the right people know to make sure it didn¡¯t happen. It got Christophe, one of their lieutenants, and some grunt captured. That pissed them both off, but with Piro it¡¯s worse. It¡¯s not just that I stole something valuable from him, we were lovers. That always makes things more personal. But he had it coming.¡±


    ¡°Why,¡± Quentin asked, trying to remember, ¡°because he yelled at you at a party?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia said, voice heating up instantly, ¡°he humiliated me. He went out of his way to hurt me as badly as possible in front of hundreds of people I worked hard to impress. And he did it because Christophe was pissy at me for intruding in on their comfortable partnership and hounded him about it. Because I was proving to be useful and Piro was starting to listen to me.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying,¡± Quentin said, voice turning chilly, ¡°is that you were lovers with one of the worst gang leaders in the city. And that you were helping him. Which would make you a criminal. What the fuck made you think living with the city executioner was a good idea?¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s not who I am anymore!¡± Razia didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d raised her voice until Quentin stood up, almost as if warning her. She focused on her breathing and cooling down. ¡°I know how that sounds, but...When I first came to this city, I went on a bit of a tear. I was free from my father for the first time and I had a wild time. I did some things I¡¯m not proud of as I just...tried to have fun and meet new people.


    ¡°Screwing over Piro and Christophe was one of the dumbest things I¡¯ve done. After I did it, I made it look like I skipped town but headed up here instead. Mr. Cicero agreed to give me some protection in exchange for a gift I gave him.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s say I believe you,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Then what do you want? You asked me that last night. But if you don¡¯t want to be the right hand for the leader of the Warlords, what do you want? What do you plan on doing if I let you stay here?¡±


    Razia shrugged and let herself fall down to the couch. ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m making it up as I go. I just want to have fun with friends and meet interesting people. I want to be comfortable, but not bored. I don¡¯t really have any plans other than working hard and helping Samantha and some of the other girls out. And you, of course¡±


    ¡°And me.¡± Quentin frowned. He paced in front of the couch. Razia let him take his time and find his words peacefully, wringing her hands together. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about the danger,¡± he finally said after at least a full minute had passed. He didn¡¯t stop pacing. ¡°I¡¯m used to danger. It¡¯s the surprise that bothers me. I like knowing what to expect, and I don¡¯t like feeling used.¡±


    Razia sighed. ¡°I get that. For what it¡¯s worth, I don¡¯t plan on doing it again.¡± Not that she planned most of her disasters. It was always someone pushing her or someone else they shouldn¡¯t have pushed. ¡°I like it here. In Orchrisus, this part of town, your house. At least your bath. Whew,¡± she made an appreciative noise. It earned her a half smile. ¡°I like Samantha and you. You want to know what I want? I want to show you a good time and help her out of a sticky situation she¡¯s in. From there? Who knows.¡±


    It was the truth, more or less. There were always plans and schemes in the back of her mind, but most of them were idle thoughts. Nothing she was currently taking seriously. Those didn¡¯t count, right? Quentin stopped pacing and rubbed his chin. ¡°Well...Even if I were to toss you out, they¡¯d still think you were here. And kicking you out would make my efforts today a waste.¡±


    ¡°Your efforts?¡±


    A smile spread on Quentin¡¯s face. He motioned for her to follow him and went around the pool to the room she¡¯d chose. Quentin opened the door and motioned inside. Razia stepped through the door and was presented with a pleasant surprise. There was a bed in there now, of decent size and make. There was also a desk and chair, and a mirror on the desk. ¡°Did you get all of these for me? When? How?¡±


    Quentin looked pleased with himself. ¡°I should¡¯ve had a spare room aet up ages ago. You gave me an excuse to actually do it. I may not want much, but I can afford whatever I do want. I had them delivered while you were out. If you¡¯re going to stay here, I¡¯ll not have you sleeping on my couch or the floor for your duration. So welcome home, I guess.¡±


    Razia, for once, couldn¡¯t think of anything to say.


    End of Part 2: The Damsel of Distress

 Chapter 19: The Death of the Blooming Rose

    Part 3: Ladies of the Night


    Chapter 19: The Death of the Blooming Rose


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure this is a good idea,¡± said Quentin, and not for the first time


    ¡°It¡¯s not a good idea,¡± said Razia, grinning up at him. ¡°It¡¯s a great idea. This will work. Just trust me!¡±


    It seemed to Quentin that he¡¯d been doing a lot of trusting over the past few days. More than he had in the past ten years. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have much trust left after hearing just how many people wanted his new companion maimed or dead. Leading people right to his door had shaken him more than he wanted to let on. It would¡¯ve been so easy to be on edge after that, or even throw her out.


    He did no such thing. After dinner and escorting Samantha and her brother home, the night was quiet and it was just the two of them. They spent hours talking, picking each other¡¯s brains about anything they could think of. Whether it was religion (she had faith to spare, he was a bitter worshipper at best) or the Colosseum (wherein she questioned him on his infirmary days) or even Razia¡¯s clothes (he learned more than he ever intended to know about Orchisan fashion) they talked until the small hours of the morning, eventually going to bed after talking about plays.


    It was that conversation, two days before, that led to Razia dragging Quentin out of his house and down to the Febrizzio Amphitheater on the east side of town. It was just after sunset, right before the evening show, and crowded. Quentin held his cloak against him, as if it would protect him from the hundreds of people pushing past each other to buy admission and get to their seats.


    ¡°Over here,¡± said Razia, tugging on Quentin¡¯s arm. She led him away from the main entrance where the majority of the audience would sit wherever there was room. The Amphitheater was outdoors and built partially dug into the ground. The best seats were the balconies, hanging from the walls. That¡¯s where not only the rich people went to see a play, it was where the well bred, important people went. Quentin had the money, but he would never be allowed in a place like that. Not without Razia¡¯s plan.


    ¡°What happens when I get caught and they either throw us out, call the watch on us, or both? I only just recovered from my last fight. I don¡¯t need the watch beating the shit out of me for trespassing and stealing.¡± Quentin pulled them to the side, letting people surge past them. While he was in his usual tunic, boots, and under his cloak, Razia was dressed to impress. She wore a vibrant, eye catching dress and bright blue make up around her eyes. Next to each other, they stood out horribly.


    ¡°Then we distract them and run like hell,¡± Razia said, shrugging.


    ¡°Is that seriously your solution for everything?¡±


    ¡°Nine times out of ten it works. Anyway,¡± she elbowed his side, ¡°this is going to work. You won¡¯t even have to do anything other than keep your face hidden and look vaguely threatening. The role¡¯s perfect for you. Now stop fussing and let me show you a good time.¡±


    That¡¯s what this was all about. Or at least what she said it was about. Going to the Amphitheater was supposed to be a down payment on her promise to him. Though with each passing day, Quentin found himself wondering how the hell she was going to make him feel alive. At the moment, he was mostly just worried. Razia¡¯s enthusiasm was infectious, and now that she had her mind on it, it seemed easier to just go along and do what she said and hope it all worked out.


    So Quentin took a deep breath and let her link her arm in his and walked leisurely forward. He chanced a look up and saw the rooftops of the nearest buildings had people on them, catching the show any way they could. He looked down as they approached the stairs leading up to the balcony.


    A well dressed young woman held her hand up to stop them. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, these are private seats, I¡¯m afraid...Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± She looked at Razia, scrunching up her nose as if she smelled something terrible.


    ¡°It is. So if you would kindly let me and the senator through, I¡¯d appreciate it.


    ¡°The senator?¡± The usher scoffed, looking Quentin up and down. ¡°Pull the other one.¡±


    Razia theatrically rolled her eyes. ¡°Senator Barbus has a prior engagement he is supposed to be at. He¡¯d rather spend the night showing me a good time, but being seen would cause him some...Difficulties. C¡¯mon Demi, you know the difficulties men like him face.¡±


    Demi narrowed her eyes, looking at Quentin, who started sweating. Did his profile look anything like the senator¡¯s? Not many people were as tall as him, even with the way he hunched. ¡°Is that true? Senator?¡±


    He didn¡¯t dare look to Razia for what to do. Even Quentin knew that would give the game away. Then he thought about the night they met, and how quickly he¡¯d played along. Drawing himself up to his full height but keeping his hood down low he let out an emphatic, impatient sigh. ¡°What part of I don¡¯t wish to be seen do you not understand?¡± He hissed, just loud enough to be heard. ¡°If I miss my favorite play because of you¡­¡±


    Demi cringed. She got out of their way, bowing and motioning with her hands for them to go. ¡°Of course. Please accept my apologies, Senator. Just trying to be careful.¡±


    Quentin huffed and walked past her, all but dragging Razia with him. ¡°Send us up your finest wine and some lamb,¡± Razia said as they passed. ¡°The senator¡¯s gonna need his strength.¡±


    It took Quentin everything he had to hold in his laughter. He made it to the top of the stairs before he broke, trying to cover it as a cough. They rushed forward, Razia now leading them as she skipped the first three nooks and took them to the fourth, pulling a cloth curtain closed behind them.


    ¡°Oh my gods,¡± Razia said, fighting for breath as she laughed. ¡°Not gonna lie Quentin, I wasn¡¯t expecting that. Where did that come from?¡±


    Quentin¡¯s cheeks heated up. ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°it¡¯s gonna sound crazy but...when I was a kid, I wanted to be an actor. My mother used to transcribe plays and bring them home to read to me, doing her best to make each voice unique. I always thought I could be good on stage, and that if I wore masks and costumes no one would know the difference.¡±


    ¡°That was your dream? Huh.¡± Razia¡¯s smile grew. ¡°I was wondering why you played along so fast at Maggie¡¯s. And having gotten to know you a little bit better, you¡¯re a completely different person when you¡¯re...working. If you think of the arena as a stage, I¡¯d say your dream came true and then some. All of the glory, none of the hassle of being famous. And maybe a little bit riskier to your health.¡±


    Quentin snorted and looked at the private box they were in. To his surprise and amusement, he could sum it up in a single word: luxurious. The seats were made of sturdy, polished wood and covered with plush red cushions. Above them the building dipped out, providing just enough of a roof to protect guests from the elements without making the balcony feel claustrophobic. There was enough room there to seat an entire family, but it was just the two of them. They were at an angle to the stage, off center enough to be able to see the performers in the wings, getting ready. Or for Quentin at least, a bunch of dark shapes he assumed to be the performers. They took the front seats.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this nice? Hold on,¡± Razia stood as one of the theater¡¯s servers came up with a bottle of wine and two cups, along with a basket full of breads, grapes, cheeses, and lamb kebabs. She took them from the server with a playful wink and brought them back. She popped open the wine, letting the cork fly off the side and poured them a couple of drinks. She held her cup up. ¡°Ahem. Isn¡¯t this nice? To us, to Orchrisus, and to the theater.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing I¡¯d have done on my own,¡± Quentin admitted, clinking his cup against hers. He let himself relax. This was a private balcony for the Senator, who was obviously not here tonight, and probably wouldn¡¯t inconveniently show up mid-show. Quentin took a sip and then made an appreciative sound. ¡°Is this how you usually live?¡±


    Razia sprawled herself out in the chair, making herself comfortable. If anyone were looking at them, they would be horrified at her posture. ¡°When things are going particularly well, yes. I find a date for the evening, he or she takes me out someplace nice and I get to enjoy the good life while enchanting them and making sure they enjoy themselves just as much.


    ¡°Rich men give better perks but are more demanding and want...everything, really,¡± Razia snorted. ¡°Poor or middle class people can¡¯t pay as well but they give of themselves more.¡±


    ¡°And which do you prefer?¡± Quentin asked.


    She took a deep, contemplative breath, thrown off by the question. ¡°I think,¡± said Razia after a delay, ¡°I prefer it with the poorer ones. This right here is fantastic, but powerful men are more dangerous while pretending to act more civilized. I prefer an honest bastard to a liar. Poor men appreciate me more. Ooh, look!¡± She pointed at the stage.


    All around the amphitheater the lights went out in twos and threes and the stage lit up. The rich red curtain pulled away to reveal...A single white blob Quentin knew was a person. From this far away, Quentin couldn¡¯t make out what he was wearing, or any of his features, or anything other than he wore white. It made sense. White was the color of death and mourning. Stringed instruments played a chord, and the pale figure, a woman, sang.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°The Daystar flares hot with rage


    Fire becomes ice as her light fades


    Into darkness, the Blooming Rose falls


    Only to rise the Darkstar¡±


    The curtain opened further and others walked onto the stage, each wearing a different color. The music began in earnest then, woodwinds and strings and a small choir mingling together. Together they swelled and the lead woman sang on in a crystal clear, haunting voice.


    ¡°The first of the gods to fall


    Paving the way for an ever after


    For even though the eternal gods may die


    We are never truly gone


    Tonight we sing praise to the Darkstar


    We sing of the first winter


    Dark, cold, and full of despair


    Of grief and madness


    And a promise of more


    In the land of the Darkstar¡±


    Razia leaned forward, eyes wide and excited. ¡°This is one of the last performances of The Death of the Blooming Rose,¡± she whispered. ¡°And we¡¯ve got some of the best seats in the house. The lead actress, the Darkstar: she¡¯s gorgeous. Isn¡¯t she stunning?¡± She rapped her knuckles on Quentin¡¯s knee.


    Quentin thought about lying and going along with it. If she knew she would only feel bad. But he wasn¡¯t much of a liar. She¡¯d probably want to know, he decided. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°I can¡¯t see much from this distance. She looks vaguely white and person shaped. It¡¯s better now than outside during the day. I can pretty much only see shadows when it¡¯s too bright.¡±


    The look on her face made him want to burst out laughing. Razia looked crushed. ¡°You really can¡¯t see the play?¡± She turned towards the stage, where the actors danced together as the opening song wound down. ¡°The other day. When you scared those assholes off, you said you couldn¡¯t see a thing. I thought you were just exaggerating how tired you were.¡±


    This time Quentin did laugh. ¡°No, I wish. My eyesight¡¯s just garbage. It¡¯s mostly fine up close and in average light, but gets worse as things get further and brighter.¡±


    ¡°I am so sorry Quentin, I --¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known.¡± He shrugged, settling into his chair. ¡°I¡¯m not upset at all. I know this play very well anyway.¡± The corners of his lips twitched.


    Razia cocked her head to the side. Quentin held up a finger and turned his ear towards the stage, looking directly at Razia. As one actress finished her line, Quentin nodded and recited, ¡°A fine gift, sister,¡± in a faux deep voice as the actor on stage did the same. ¡°You make my heart warmer and my world brighter.¡± Lights flared on the stage. ¡°Always weirded me out a bit,¡± he added, ¡°that they¡¯re twins and lovers.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different for gods,¡± Razia shrugged.


    ¡°My mother used to read me this play often as a child,¡± said Quentin. ¡°She¡¯d do different voices for each character and everything. I think she wanted me to feel better about myself.¡± He grimaced. ¡°My birthday is the first of winter, the day the Blooming Rose was murdered in the story. She...She believed in the Moonkissed shit. She believed in a good version of it. Kind of like you.¡±


    ¡°Is that so bad, though? To believe that your child was a special gift?¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t know how to answer that. He nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think too much about parenthood. For obvious reasons.¡±


    ¡°For obvious reasons,¡± Razia intoned gravely. She elbowed him in the side. ¡°Yeah, I can believe you wanted to be an actor. You¡¯re very dramatic. Lighten up some.¡±


    His face burned, but there was little of the sting of humiliation Quentin normally felt when being mocked. ¡°My point remains. I don¡¯t have any idea what it¡¯s like to have kids or want anything for them. I barely have people to want things for. But you¡¯re not wrong, I guess. I suppose it¡¯s not such a terrible thing that she wanted to believe I was special instead of cursed.¡±


    Razia filled their cups with more wine and raised hers to that, winking. Quentin smiled and relaxed, settling back to really focus on the show once more. His eyes were so great, but his ears worked just fine. While the majority of the play was a mixture of spoken verse and the cast¡¯s elaborate dancing sequences, spread throughout were beautiful songs, sung by the people who played the gods. For all of his bitterness, these were the parts of the play that stuck with Quentin.


    It was hard not to sympathize with them, feeling their first loss and thinking back to his mother¡¯s death. Or maybe it just hit him harder, now that she was gone and this play was one of a handful of things he had left of her. Quentin wiped at his eyes during the Blooming Rose¡¯s death scene, peeking out the corner of his eye to make sure Razia didn¡¯t see it. Her eyes were on the actors, captivated.


    The death aria marked the close of act one. The lights came back on and the curtain closed so the actors could catch a breath and so the Blooming Rose could costume change into the Darkstar. Quentin stretched in his street, enjoying a mild buzz and a contentment he hadn¡¯t realized was there until the amphitheater woke up, taking his dream of peace with it.


    ¡°I still feel really bad about bringing you here when you can¡¯t see it,¡± said Razia, turning to face him. ¡°Has your sight always been this bad?¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°It wasn¡¯t as bad when I was a kid but it was never particularly good. It doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s getting worse any faster, so there¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever tried to do anything about it?¡± she asked. ¡°Like see if healers could look at it, or maybe try spectacles?¡±


    He made a face. ¡°I don¡¯t like going around the temple much. And I don¡¯t know much about spectacles. Seems like it would be hard to be active when I have to worry about breaking them. I¡¯m probably fine the way things are.¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll see about finding something that helps. Just you wait.¡±


    Behind them the curtain rustled. A portly man with a reddish beard poked his head through. ¡°Roan? Aha, there you are! I thought I saw someone in here and...Oh, I didn¡¯t know you had company!¡±


    Razia jumped to her feet. Her eyes flicked over to Quentin and said, silently, she¡¯d do the talking. ¡°No one¡¯s supposed to know,¡± she said, holding up her finger. ¡°The Senator is officially four miles away, at a --¡±


    ¡°Yes yes, we¡¯ve all been there,¡± He let out a belly laugh and stepped onto their balcony. ¡°Where¡¯d you find this one, Roan? She''s pretty.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s fingers dug into the arms of his seat until they hurt. What was he supposed to say? This man clearly knew the senator and there was no way Quentin could fool him. He opened his mouth, preparing to tell Razia to run when she turned on the charm.


    ¡°Oh, you think I¡¯m pretty?¡± she asked, voice rising and sounding a little more girlish. ¡°That¡¯s so sweet of you.¡± She put herself between Quentin and the stranger and did a little twirl for him. ¡°Do you like what you see?¡±


    The man¡¯s wide, guileless face gave everything away. He went from an indulgent smile to really taking a look. His eyes darkened a little as he said, ¡°Yes. Quite a bit. I don¡¯t mean to poach from my dear friend Roan young lady, but¡­¡± He took her hand in his and stroked it.


    Razia placed her hand over his and squeezed it. ¡°Oh, I think something could be arranged.¡± She leaned forward and the man bowed his head so she could whisper in his ear. Quentin had no idea what was actually said, but he¡¯d been on the receiving end of that move and knew firsthand how likely it was the man¡¯s brains would be leaking out his ears.


    His face reddened the more she whispered, until it reached a shade that clashed horribly with his beard. Razia pulled away and shot Quentin a smug grin. ¡®See that?¡¯ the grin said. ¡®I¡¯ve got this handled.¡¯ It turned to horror when he pushed right past her and took her seat next to Quentin.


    ¡°Where did you find this one? She¡¯s filthy!¡± he chortled, slapping Quentin on the back. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve been meaning to talk to you about the Blooming party this year, and...you can take off the hood my friend, I¡¯m not going to tell anyone you¡¯re here.¡±


    It was the kind of disaster that happened slowly, like an inexorable storm on the horizon. Razia had tried and failed to bail him out and now Quentin couldn¡¯t think of anything to do. So he forced a smile on his face and lowered his hood.


    ¡°What in the¡­¡± Surprise turned to fear. He scrambled backwards out of his seat, looking between Quentin and Razia. Fear turned to realization, and then anger, all in the span of a few glacial seconds. ¡°Thought you¡¯d come and use my friend¡¯s box? Oh, you two are screwed.¡± He took off through the curtains.


    ¡°Time to run like hell?¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°Time to walk like hell. Get your hood up and follow me.¡± Razia scooped up the wine and motioned for him to hurry. He scrambled after her, head spinning. The buzz had been pleasant, up until now. Arm in arm they peeked their heads out. Razia nodded towards a line of people down to their right that looked frayed. They headed left.


    Everyone¡¯s eyes were on them. They knew, and when guards came they¡¯d give them away. Quentin swallowed down his fears and took short, unhurried steps. His heart pounded like he was running a marathon. Beside him, Razia looked serene, like she was just enjoying a nice night out and hell wasn¡¯t about to come down on them.


    By the time they reached the stairs and no one had screamed for their detention, Quentin thought she might have a point. When they passed through the exit and were back into the early Orchrisan night, he let himself relax. Razia pat his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done a lot of running lately, but this is what I prefer. Just walk away casually and no one will think you did anything wrong. We get away with it with zero consequences.¡± Razia looked pleased with herself.


    Quentin scoffed. ¡°Not sure you¡¯ll ever be able to go back there without being thrown out. And we only saw half the play. Well, you saw half the play. I heard half. No, I¡¯m joking,¡± he said as Razia winced. ¡°I had a good time. And we¡¯re safe.¡±


    A chill went down Quentin¡¯s spine when she said nothing. He looked around them. They were on the nicer side of town. He stood out like a sore thumb among the dozens of people dressed well, but nothing else seemed odd. Then he saw one of them, walking parallel to them. He craned his head and caught the other. They made eye contact and she nodded. She looked familiar, but Quentin couldn¡¯t quite place her.


    Razia gave an apologetic shrug as she tugged on his arm and led him away from the main streets and to an alley. ¡°I promised you I¡¯d talk with Mr. Cicero as soon as I could. Well, ready or not, here¡¯s our chance.¡±

 Chapter 20: Mr. Cicero

    Chapter 20: Mr. Cicero


    Quentin wasn¡¯t happy. ¡°Why the hell didn¡¯t you warn me?¡± he hissed.


    Razia offered an apologetic smile. ¡°I didn¡¯t plan for this so much as I knew it was a possibility. This is Mr. Cicero¡¯s part of town and he¡¯s got eyes everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Once again,¡± said Quentin, ¡°why the hell didn¡¯t you warn me? Did you think I¡¯d refuse?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡± Razia shrugged.


    Quentin sighed. The two mercs stepped into the alley, putting off any reply Quentin might¡¯ve had. They both drew metal blades from their belts. The woman¡¯s knife was curved and wicked looking. It was then Quentin recognized her. So did Razia.


    ¡°Hey Janice,¡± Razia greeted. ¡°Glad you found work with real professionals after that shit with Otho.¡±


    The two of them looked at each other, then back at Razia. Janice¡¯s smile was unpleasant. ¡°Making a mighty big assumption, aren¡¯t you? Otho wants you dead and is willing to pay for it.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s hand ventured to his belt. Before he could so much as blink, the male half of the pair came at him, sweeping his leg out from under him. Quentin landed on the ground hard with the man over him, knife at his throat. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± the man said quietly. Shock, then shame flooded him. In an instant he was at the man¡¯s mercy.


    ¡°Hey, there¡¯s no need for that, he had nothing to do with this,¡± Razia reached out for the mercenary¡¯s shoulder, then thought better of it.


    ¡°Oh, we all know that¡¯s not true. How¡¯ve you been, pretty boy?¡± Janice loomed over Quentin, smiling with one side of her mouth. ¡°Sorry about Bruno there, but we can¡¯t have you starting trouble.¡± Quentin gave a minute shrug of his shoulders, eyes locked on the dagger at his throat. ¡°Lucky for you, your assumption is correct. I¡¯m with Cicero for a couple of months until we find a caravan out of this bitch of a city. He wants a word with you both.¡±


    ¡°Both?¡± Quentin asked.


    Janice rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah. All this started when you got that whore riled up and all sensitive. This one¡¯s on you too, pretty boy.¡± The woman seemed deeply amused with the turn of events, and had the look of a lazy predator. Quentin wasn¡¯t sure if he liked her or disliked her.


    ¡°Wait, you were involved too,¡± said Quentin. ¡°You were the one who even suggested setting a price for Samantha¡¯s death, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    Janice laughed. ¡°Oh, I was. Never thought he¡¯d actually do it. What kind of self respecting boss listens to the hired muscle¡¯s suggestions? As far as Mr. Cicero¡¯s concerned, this is between the three of you. Hence, he wants to speak.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s reasonable,¡± said Quentin through gritted teeth. ¡°Unless you plan on bringing him to us, I can¡¯t very well speak to him like this. Mind getting off me? Thank you.¡± Bruno pulled the knife away and held out a hand. When Quentin reached for it, he walked away snickering.


    ¡°You try to run, we maim or kill you,¡± Janice said, motioning for Bruno to lead the way, Quentin and Razia to follow, with her bringing up the rear. They set out, Bruno whistling as they went, whistling louder the couple of times Quentin tried to speak to Razia.


    So that meant a quiet walk to a dangerous man with increasing irritation at the situation. Quentin wasn¡¯t upset about not seeing the play or having to run out. Already he found that amusing, a story to tell in the future. Razia had gotten him to leave the house and do something risky for nothing other than fun. And now she was dragging them into something even riskier with a man no one north of the river dared fuck with.


    And he had to wait to chew her out about it. As they wound their way through a night filled with the middle class out for pleasure, Quentin settled for glaring daggers into her back, willing Razia to feel how annoyed he was. It must¡¯ve worked because by the time they were nearly there, she¡¯d looked over her shoulder with an expression that could¡¯ve been an apology. Or maybe just unease at the murder on Quentin¡¯s face.


    Bruno led them to a large, wide, nondescript building. People flowed in and out of it freely, but from the outside it didn¡¯t seem special or notable. As they got closer to the doors, sounds came through muffled. The sounds of a couple hundred people screaming and cheering, the sounds of trumpeters playing a short, attention grabbing burst of notes. Bruno pushed his way past a middle aged couple wearing a conspicuous amount of silks and jewelries and led them into a large house of vice.


    Tables lined one wall, winding around pillars, occupied by group after group of people playing cards. Next to those were tables where dice were thrown or hidden underneath cups. The other side of the room opened up to a series of small pits, where angry dunewallas battled for the pleasure of the people above. There were many places like that throughout Orchrisus, but few who served this clientele.


    The people they passed had money, if not class. Merchants, burglars, professional gamblers and private security played here, safe and secure in the knowledge that the watch wouldn¡¯t dare come and interfere with one of Cicero¡¯s operations. More than a few watchmen were there now, throwing dice. They hadn¡¯t even bothered taking off the copper badges marking them as street patrollers. They continued on up the stairs, where things quieted down and Mediants took wagers of a less traditional nature between wealthy gentlemen.


    Bruno stopped at a door in the far corner, overlooking the gaming floor. He knocked three times and waited before opening the door and gesturing for Quentin and Razia to enter. ¡°Keep it civil,¡± he said. ¡°Or else I¡¯ll have to come in there and straighten you out. We wouldn¡¯t want that.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to start anything,¡± Quentin said.


    The office was more or less what Quentin expected. It reminded him of a classier, neater version of Amicus¡¯ own at the Colosseum. It was filled with sculptures, paintings, and bottles of wines, trophies and keepsakes that painted a picture of the man it belonged to. Someone who was rich, had taste, and was comfortable, sitting above the chaos of money constantly changing hands below. It wasn¡¯t as flashy as Amicus¡¯ office, but it had more gravity.


    Mr. Cicero himself was waiting behind a beautiful polished wooden desk that looked almost like marble. He was in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a sharp silver beard kept neatly trimmed. He wore silk robes of white with symmetrical black geometric designs. Mr. Cicero stood and a smile came to his face. Not a smug one, or a self congratulatory one like Quentin would almost expect. He looked genuinely pleased,


    ¡°Razia Rashid,¡± he greeted, nodding to Razia. ¡°And Quentin Quintius. I must say, Quentin, I never expected to see you again. You were one of my most loyal dogs, once upon a time. Now look at you.¡±


    Razia turned and gaped at Quentin. ¡°Loyal dogs? You? Since when.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face burned. He wanted to put his hood up, but this was not a man you showed weakness to. ¡°Since sixteen years ago. When I was a teenager I used to fight in his underground rings. I¡¯m surprised you remember me, sir.¡± Quentin inclined his head out of politeness and respect, and to maybe hide how tense he was.


    Mr. Cicero let out a low chuckle that probably wasn¡¯t actually menacing, but it made the hairs on Quentin¡¯s neck stand on end. ¡°How could I forget? I was less well known then and that damned Goldie bastard was trying to take me out before I could get too big.¡± His smile was amused, but Quentin finally realized what it was that was bothering him. Cicero¡¯s eyes were focused perfectly on him and he didn¡¯t seem to need to blink. ¡°All it would take was you ratting me out. But you weren¡¯t a rat, you were a dog. Dogs are loyal. And for that, I did my part in paying you back.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Razia asked, looking between them with growing interest and even excitement. ¡°Quentin, you¡¯ve been holding out on me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in the past,¡± Quentin said. The pieces finally fit together. He¡¯d always wondered. ¡°You were the one who got me assigned to the Colosseum,¡± he said. ¡°Three years as punishment for participating, and punishment for not talking and screwing you. But I got sent to someone who finds slavery contemptible.¡±


    Mr. Cicero gave a single nod. ¡°Salim, an old friend. I¡¯m going to be honest, I didn¡¯t track your progress much while you were there. As far as I was concerned, you did me a solid and I¡¯d repaid the favor. Imagine my surprise when you changed jobs. You can¡¯t resist a good fight, can you? From pit dog to top dog.¡±


    Quentin grimaced. Now that he was there, he should¡¯ve known the top broker of information knew all along. ¡°I guess so,¡± he said, frowning. Quentin found he didn¡¯t much like being compared to a dog. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m good at. But you didn¡¯t summon us here to talk about fights.¡±


    Mr. Cicero spread his arms in acknowledgement. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m afraid nostalgia¡¯s something of a weakness of mine. Please, sit so we may discuss how badly Ms. Rashid has fucked up and how she intends on making it up to me.¡±


    His tone never changed from that lazy, indulgent friendliness but all his intensity switched over to Razia. She looked uncomfortable, but not for long. She put on a smile and sat down in one of the two chairs. Quentin joined her, less on edge but still far from relaxed. You didn¡¯t relax in a den of predators like this.


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    ¡°You say I fucked up, but I¡¯m not sure I agree with that Mr. Cicero,¡± said Razia. She shifted in her chair until she was half lounging in it, looking cheeky and unconcerned. ¡°The way I see it, I¡¯ve done you a huge favor.¡±


    That earned her a surprised bark of laughter. ¡°How do you figure?¡± asked Mr. Cicero.


    Razia¡¯s eyes glittered. ¡°I got rid of an unstable liability in your network, before he could do more even damage than he already did. I gave you an opportunity.¡± Mr. Cicero said nothing at first. He just stared that unblinking stare while looking vaguely amused. After a few seconds he motioned for her to continue but otherwise he was as still as a statue.


    ¡°Otho was stealing from you and from customers. He was skimming from you and was proud of it. Proud of getting one over on ¡®Mr. Eyes and Ears¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mr. Cicero said. ¡°I know. Most of my men skim from me, thinking themselves to be clever. So long as they keep it a reasonable amount I look the other way. Happy employees are more complacent and easier to trap. If I wanted Otho gone, I could¡¯ve removed him myself at any time. He would¡¯ve discovered the information he thinks he has on me is planted, and he would disappear. Try again.¡±


    Razia smoothly continued, ¡°Not just money. He was double dipping on the information he passed along to you. Sometimes the information he gave you was worthless by the time you got it because he¡¯d already acted on it, or told someone else so they could and owe him a favor. He was trying to get a bigger piece of the action from you. He was sloppy, and I caught him.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you not tell me earlier, so that I could handle it myself? I find it nearly impossible to give you the benefit of the doubt, given this all happened as you ruined the business and stole their top whore.¡±


    Razia held her hands up. ¡°Would you have believed me? I have nothing but respect for you, Mr. Cicero, really.¡± She bowed her head as if trying to prove it. ¡°But other than the one ongoing deal we have going, which I am supremely grateful for, we haven¡¯t talked much. If it came down to it, would you really believe me over Otho?¡±


    ¡°You mean,¡± Mr. Cicero said with a chuckle, ¡°would I believe a whore with a forked tongue over the sleaziest worm in Orchrisus? I would¡¯ve looked into it, at least. But believe either of you? Please.¡±


    Quentin spoke up, then, ¡°He was going to sell your top whore¡¯s life to me and pocket the profits. He wouldn¡¯t let me see her until I guaranteed to pay for her if I killed her with my ¡®unnatural hungers¡¯. He believed, was convinced, that I was going to kill her. And still sent her to me. And he acted like a little tyrant,¡± he added.


    Mr. Cicero waved off the last bit with, ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn how someone runs their business so long as it runs.¡± His smile had vanished though, and he looked thoughtful. ¡°His attempt at the sale, I know that much is true. Janice confirmed it, even as Otho conveniently avoided telling me about it. I will concede that his behavior has been reckless.¡±


    ¡°And he lost most of his guards when they found out he was screwing them over,¡± Razia pressed. ¡°If all it took was me opening my big mouth to completely undo his business, his business wasn¡¯t especially secure, was it? I¡¯m telling you, he was a corrupt, volatile, dangerously inconsistent person to have working under you. I did you a favor by letting him topple from his own bad decisions.¡±


    Mr. Cicero held his hand up and Razia fell quiet. He mulled it over, never taking his gaze off of her. His jaw worked silently, like he was chewing it over. After over a minute of quiet he sighed and reached into his desk. He pulled out a box of cigars. He offered the box wordlessly to Quentin and Razia. Quentin declined, but Razia pulled out a thin, short cigarillo. Mr. Cicero took a long, thick one and lit the tip on one of the candles on his desk. Razia did the same.


    ¡°The problem is,¡± he said, exhaling a puff of smoke at the ceiling, ¡°is that you and Otho aren¡¯t so different from each other. You¡¯re both reckless, duplicitous, and think you¡¯re far more clever than you actually are. The latter two aren¡¯t necessarily bad qualities to have. They¡¯re predictable, and I like predictable. It¡¯s the reckless part I have a problem with. It¡¯s how godsdamned reckless the two of you are that has me conflicted.


    ¡°Everything you¡¯ve said about Otho sounds true. I¡¯ve known much of it myself, but perhaps I hadn¡¯t paid enough attention to his overreaching. It could be you really have done me a favor, shaking him loose early instead of having his house of cards collapse at the worst time. I¡¯m beginning to think that was for the best. I could replace him with someone better. Let¡¯s go with that, then. You¡¯ve been reckless but Otho is an adult and he was slipping. I see no reason to retract my protection from you.¡±


    Razia¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Cicero. I always appreciated how reasonable you are.¡±


    That was a mistake. Quentin knew as soon as the words left her lips that she should¡¯ve just thanked him and kept her mouth shut. She¡¯d already won, more or less, being smug in front of a predator was the number one way to get them to strike. Sure enough, the smile on Cicero¡¯s face returned, only harsher this time.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that, Ms. Rashid. Because the fact of the matter is you cost me not one but two cash cows. With the Silk Lounge compromised and Samantha Barker hiding, that¡¯s two sets of income no longer flowing directly my way. I¡¯m sure Ms. Barker will show her face before long and resume paying her debt, but every day the Silk Lounge is without customers is a day I lose profits.


    ¡°Had you come to me that very night, we could¡¯ve worked something out. But if you want my forgiveness and my continued protection, you will damages. I¡¯m thinking forty aquilos. Ten for every day you avoided clearing this up with me.¡±


    Other than the far away roar of the house beneath them, it was silent in the office. Razia¡¯s eyes bugged out from the amount, and Quentin couldn¡¯t blame her. ¡°Forty Aquilos¡­¡± she whispered, straightening up in her chair. The restraint in her next words was obvious. ¡°That¡¯s a fair, reasonable decision. It might take me some time to pay it off.¡±


    Mr. Cicero puffed on his cigar pleasantly. ¡°Of course. Interest is 10% a month, which I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll still find reasonable.¡±


    Razia put the cigarillo down. Quentin wanted to comfort her, but he was so out of his element the best thing he could do was just be there and keep his mouth shut. This wasn¡¯t his world. ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice,¡± said Razia, ¡°that the amount I owe is the same that Samantha¡¯s father owes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I thought it was appropriate, considering.¡± Another puff.


    Razia took a deep breath. ¡°If it¡¯s at all possible, I would like to take on Samantha¡¯s debt as well. She¡¯s too innocent for this shit, and I can pay it all off. Can I buy her debt?¡±


    Mr. Cicero considered it. ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to sell her debt off, if I thought someone could pay me. But that¡¯s the problem, Razia. It would just be doubling your debt to let her off the hook and frankly?¡± He eyed Razia up and down. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯d leave town rather than pay that much. And if I agreed and you did that, I¡¯d have to have her throat slit in response.¡±


    It was all said so casually, as if Mr. Cicero was discussing breakfast. Beside him, Razia flinched, unable to hide it or too out of energy to even try. It was easy to be mad at her for springing more dangerous shit on him. Hell, Quentin wasn¡¯t happy with her and still intended on chewing her out over it as soon as they were out of there. But...he hated how defeated she sounded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll buy their debts.¡± Quentin was surprised to find that he was the one who spoke and even more surprised to find that he meant it. ¡°Both of them. Along with a twenty percent bonus, as a thanks for being so understanding.¡±


    Razia¡¯s head shot around to face him, jaw dropped. Mr. Cicero looked surprised for all of two seconds before becoming thoughtful instead. He nodded, jerking his cigar in Quentin¡¯s direction. ¡°You see, Ms. Rashid? For as much as you wish you had power and influence, your companion understands something you don¡¯t. Respect.


    ¡°With proper respect, you get it back and gain power. As for you, Quintius...Why? You know she¡¯ll run out on you or backstab you the moment she can, right? The moment you show weakness.¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°If they¡¯re going to be in debt I¡¯d rather it be for someone who wants nothing from them. They¡¯ll pay me back eventually. Or maybe they won¡¯t. Either way, you get an appropriate apology for the damages you¡¯ve suffered and my friends don¡¯t have to worry about you leveraging that debt against them.¡±


    Saying the word friends felt unfamiliar, but not wrong. With Razia and Samantha (maybe), Quentin had doubled the amount of friends he had. Not that he really knew how to be someone¡¯s friend. Bailing them out of trouble seemed like a good start. Quentin took Razia¡¯s discarded Cigarillo and lit it. He stared Mr. Cicero down and took a defiant puff. He ruined the image by coughing afterward.


    ¡°For fifty aquilos a pop, you could get four slaves¡¯ contracts for at least five years,¡± said Mr. Cicero. ¡°That¡¯d be a better investment by far.¡±


    ¡°So take the shards and buy yourself some slaves.¡± Quentin wondered where he found the courage, but it didn¡¯t seem to be going anywhere.


    Mr. Cicero put out his cigar, chuckling. ¡°I might just. Then I believe we¡¯re agreed.¡±


    Quentin and Razia stood, the dismissal in Mr. Cicero¡¯s voice obvious. ¡°I can get the money to you tomorrow.¡±


    Mr. Cicero waved him off, meeting Quentin¡¯s gaze once more. ¡°Don¡¯t bother. We use the same bank. I¡¯ll have it transferred.¡±


    Neither of them spoke as they left Mr. Cicero¡¯s house of gambling. That suited Quentin just fine. He needed time to process everything that happened and what he committed to, and Razia probably needed the same. She was uncharacteristically quiet and lifeless as they walked home. Quentin found himself looking down on her to see if she was okay more than once.


    They made it back onto the Boulevard and neared home when Quentin broke the silence. ¡°Springing that on me was shitty.¡±


    Razia nodded slowly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for it to happen, but I knew it could. That wasn¡¯t great of me. I just wanted to get that talk with him out of the way like I promised I would. And hey. Mr. Cicero¡¯s protection won¡¯t end, so I¡¯m safe from Piro and Otho. That just leaves those three jackasses. I think we made progress tonight.¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°Yeah. You and Samantha are now both 50 aquilos in debt to me. One step forward, three steps back. Progress.¡±


    Razia stopped, forcing Quentin to turn. ¡°Thank you, for that,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I¡¯m going to pay you back. I swear it.¡±


    He just shrugged. ¡°Honestly not sure if I believe you. Doesn¡¯t matter either way. It¡¯s done, and you¡¯ve got one less seedy bastard out to get you.¡±


    ¡°Stop acting like dropping 100 aquilos is nothing to you!¡± Razia closed the distance and shoved at him. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever once held that much money. Gods¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not nothing,¡± he admitted, ¡°but I have it, it¡¯s just sitting there, and you were in need. You¡¯re not mad at me for helping you, are you?¡±


    She shook her head vehemently. ¡°Embarrassed you needed to. And frustrated that my main way of working on debts like that is a no-go with you. But mark my words, Samantha and I will get you your shards, even if it takes us all year. Tomorrow,¡± she said, nodding. ¡°Tomorrow night, Samantha and I are going to blow you away!¡±`

 Chapter 21: The Aggrieved Executioner

    Chapter 21: The Aggrieved Executioner


    Although it had been just under a week, it felt like forever since Quentin had seen the Colosseum. Making his usual trek around sundown, the dim shape of the Colosseum was a welcome landmark as he traversed the emptiness between it and the city. There was always this irrational fear whenever he took a few days off to heal and rest, that he¡¯d show up to work and the job wouldn¡¯t be his. Or he¡¯d suit up and then suddenly forget how to fight right as Amicus shouted for them to begin. It was silly, but it was all part of the pre-work ritual, getting into the right mindset before he put on the mask.


    The familiar anxieties came and for once, didn¡¯t linger. Quentin was too happy to be back in a place where everything made sense and he knew his place. It was easy to forget the chaos of the past several days when he was back where everything was familiar and orderly. Despite being the place where he put his life on the line, the Colosseum was safe. Quentin circled around the outside, eyesight returning in the shade of the sun, until he was let through the servant¡¯s entrance.


    This close to sunset, the stands were filling and the crew was getting everything in place for serving thousands of people. Quentin pushed his way through the crowd and made for his office. The clamor of work faded away as he climbed upwards, until the only thing Quentin could hear was the faraway sounds of people finding their seats outside his window. Just as he expected, a scroll awaited him. Quentin shed his cloak and sat down in his well worn chair, unrolling the scroll and taking a look.


    Attention! By the decree of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Caragalla, GRAHAM CALHOUN is to be put to death in the Grand Colosseum.


    The writ of execution went on to detail Graham¡¯s crimes and the penalties associated with each. This prisoner was sentenced to death nine times over. The more he read, the more Quentin¡¯s lip curled in disgust. Most of the time he couldn¡¯t quite ignore the guilt that came with taking a life. Every so often he relished the chance to dish out justice. This was one of those times.


    He put away the scroll. That was one thing taken care of for the night. Having read over his crimes, it also meant there was no way in hell he was going to spend any extra time showing him kindness. All that was left was talking to Demetrius and getting some practice and exercise in, to stay on top of his game.


    The door creaked open slowly. Quentin looked up to see a small, scared looking face peeking at him through the crack. Upon being caught, those eyes widened and the door quickly shut again. Quentin sighed and called out, ¡°Giselle, please come in here.¡±


    Silence, and then the door opened slowly and the young slave entered. Giselle kept her eyes on the floor and small hands wrung the bottom of a dirty, shapeless tunic. She fidgeted in place, growing more and more pale. Quentin doubted she was older than thirteen. Still a child, and forced into years of service, probably for something as trivial as stealing food.


    ¡°This really needs to stop,¡± Quentin said slowly, in a low voice he hoped was nonthreatening. She immediately flinched. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you. Ever. I have nothing against you and no reason to hurt you. You don¡¯t need to be afraid of me.¡± He thought about smiling, but thought better of it.


    Giselle¡¯s eyes crept up to his, making contact before going back down to the floor. She swallowed and nodded. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she said in a voice as tiny as she was. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± She didn¡¯t sound convinced.


    Quentin sighed and motioned for her to come closer. ¡°What were you coming to my office for in the first place?¡±


    She held up another scroll, this one too tiny to be anything other than a quick note. She closed the distance to his desk and dropped it there, hopping backward. But she hadn¡¯t run out of his office yet. She stood there, wringing her hands, waiting to be dismissed. Quentin picked up the note.


    Quintius, get to my office as soon as you get this. We need to discuss plans for The Blooming. - ATB


    Quentin frowned. He¡¯d really hoped to go the night without having to deal with Amicus. There was no getting around it. He stood, and Giselle took a step back. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a one qala piece. Quentin took her trembling hand in his and pushed the shard of glass into her hand and closed it. ¡°I mean it, Giselle. Get yourself a nice dinner tonight.¡± She looked up at him, confused. Quentin just smiled and left her alone in his office.


    ¡°Enter,¡± Amicus called upon hearing Quentin¡¯s sharp rap. Quentin entered, closing the door behind him quickly.


    The Colosseum¡¯s owner was sprawled out on his chair, his injured leg raised on a cushioned footstool and bandaged up. Next to him an ornate cane rested against his desk. He had a bowl of jellied grubs and a bottle in front of him. Seeing who it was, Amicus grimaced and pushed his snacks away. He motioned for Quentin to sit, folding his hands together.


    ¡°You wanted to see me?¡± said Quentin.


    Amicus cleared his throat. ¡°The Blooming. It¡¯s two weeks away, and we¡¯ve had something sprung on us. Emperor Caragalla himself is coming and will be watching from my box. That means we¡¯re going to be under the heaviest scrutiny of our lives, Quintius. Do you know what that means?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. With Amicus, it was better to say as little as possible and let him wear himself out.


    ¡°That means,¡± Amicus said, basso voice drawing out the last word, ¡°that in two weeks we¡¯re going to have one of the most important shows we¡¯ve ever put on and we absolutely cannot risk you fucking it up over sentimentality.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Quentin, sighing. ¡°I have no intention to --¡±


    ¡°There will be no courtesies, no last requests, no anything other than satiating our dear Emperor¡¯s thirst for blood. And I mean that for any of the executions you perform that night. I don¡¯t care how harmless it seems.¡±


    Quentin grit his teeth, fighting to not snap at the bastard. Then Amicus¡¯ words sunk in and Quentin looked up. ¡°Any of the executions?¡±


    Amicus smiled then, a nasty sneer of a smile. ¡°Yes. Since Caragalla will be there, we¡¯re upping the stakes and adding more events. There will be a short play about the holiday, our gladiators will go up against each other in a recreation of the Emperor¡¯s greatest military victory, and then you will go up against as many condemned souls as we can get by then. We¡¯re hoping to get four. One for each decade of his reign. It will be the four of them against you.¡±


    ¡°Are you joking?¡± Quentin scoffed. ¡°Even on my best day I¡¯ve never fought more than two at a time.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying you¡¯re not capable of it?¡± Amicus challenged. ¡°Should we get someone else to do it? I¡¯ve had this idea of letting Cervenka try filling your shoes, some time. I think he could put on a better show.¡±


    That gave Quentin pause. This confirmed his fears about being replaced, and with Cervenka? The man was a dirty fighter who, at best, was divisive. If he ever got the chance to put the mask on, he¡¯d probably draw things out and flat out torment the condemned in the ring. He more or less did that already with the foes he kept alive.


    ¡°So,¡± Amicus concluded, looking smug. ¡°We¡¯ll have no need of your services until the Blooming. Whatever writs of execution get passed our way will be saved for the show and used then. I suggest you take this time to rest, stay in shape, settle any last affairs, pray to the gods, whatever you need to do before you perform. You will not ruin this for me, Quintius. Either you put on a good performance, or die trying. Either suits me.¡±


    Quentin stormed out of his office, mood darkening by the second. It was one thing to have a job that put him at risk every time he performed. That was old news, and something Quentin grew comfortable with early on in his career. It was knowing that the manager was actively trying to set him up to fail. Amicus was basically trying to murder him and told him that right to his face. How long could Quentin hold out when the person after him made the rules?


    ¡°You look like hell.¡± Demetrius say by way of greeting. He motioned for Quentin to join him as he jogged around the perimeter of the practice yard with half the other gladiators.


    ¡°Just saw Amicus,¡± he replied, falling into a light jog beside the much shorter man. ¡°He wants me fighting four people at once for the Blooming. Including a Savant.¡±


    ¡°Pick up the pace you useless scabs!¡± Demetrius barked at a fighter lagging behind the rest of the pack. To Quentin he said, ¡°so he¡¯s definitely trying to kill you. You need to quit while you can.¡±


    ¡°Or you can give me some extra training and make sure I survive. If you can spare the time.¡±


    Demetrius looked up at him sharply. ¡°Of course I can spare the time. But this is getting ridiculous. You don¡¯t have to prove yourself to anyone. Maybe now¡¯s a good time to retire. If you did, you¡¯d be setting Amicus up for failure. He¡¯d look like a fool.¡±


    Now there was a reason to retire Quentin could get behind. Almost. ¡°Yeah, but after what happened with the Supreme Arbiter, they¡¯re offering me 10% of the take.¡±


    Demetrius stopped jogging. Quentin slowed to a stop as well. The other runners went around them, leaving the two behind. ¡°Seriously? Okay, that¡¯s a lot but it¡¯s not like you give a shit about the money.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Quentin said in a deadpan drone. ¡°I could be looking to spend it all on prostitutes, booze, and nice clothes.¡±


    That got him a harsh laugh, and then they were jogging again. ¡°Speaking of prostitutes, you ever settle things with the one you said found you?¡±


    Immediately, Quentin stopped again. At the look on his face, Demetrius understood. ¡°Alright maggots,¡± he bellowed. ¡°Sword and board training. Run through the basic forms until you puke. C¡¯mon,¡± he said, motioning for Quentin to follow him.


    Once inside Demetrius¡¯ office off the locker room, the aging trainer grabbed a bottle of whiskey and one glass. ¡°Alright. What the hell happened?¡±


    Quentin told him, in exhaustive detail. From setting out to look for her from Demetrius¡¯ home all the way to meeting Mr. Cicero. The more Quentin spoke, the more absurd it all sounded. Demetrius coped by taking a drink each time he seemed surprised. By the time he was done, there was little wonder Demetrius¡¯ response was just, ¡°you¡¯re fucking with me.¡±


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    ¡°No fuckery. Honest.¡±


    Demetrius rubbed his eyes, looking older than Quentin had ever seen him. He braced himself for anger, or another stray hand upside the head. The trainer did neither of those things. All he did was look Quentin up and down and ask, in his tired, gravelly voice, ¡°Quentin. How do you see this ending? Realistically.¡±


    It was a good question, and one Quentin had no answer for. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said with a crooked smile. ¡°I have no idea what¡¯s going to happen. It¡¯s stressful and a bit exhausting.¡±


    For that he got a sigh. Demetrius worked his mouth open and closed silently as he wrestled with the words. ¡°Do you have any idea how unsafe you¡¯re being? You might actually be more reckless in your personal life than in the ring.¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I think this makes me more likely to take my fights seriously. You know, so I can go out and test fate out on the streets instead.¡±


    ¡°Dammit Quentin, I¡¯m serious!¡± Demetrius gesticulated wildly, growling in frustration. ¡°Are you really willing to trust your life to a whore you flat out said is a serial liar?¡±


    ¡°When have I ever shied away from gambling with my life?¡± Quentin scoffed, sitting up straight. ¡°I just want to see what happens. It beats coming here, killing a couple of people and then going home and drinking myself into a stupor. This is something different, Demetrius.¡± Quentin frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve never had...Whatever this is, before.¡±


    Frustration and irritation warred on Demetrius¡¯ face. In the end he just sighed and grumbled, ¡°We could¡¯ve gotten you a whore years ago if that¡¯s what you wanted. One who won¡¯t get you dead.¡±


    Quentin ignored him. ¡°I¡¯m not planning on dying until my curiosity is satisfied. I promise. Now, you can give me shit for it or you could help me.¡±


    Demetrius made a face. ¡°Obviously I¡¯m going to help you. Get your ass here well before sundown and I¡¯ll grab Jonas and have him be a training dummy for you. Maybe take the time to teach him some moves and get him some practice too.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°You¡¯re really trying to groom him for stardom, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a good kid. He just needs to have the stupid knocked out of him, and maybe some time seeing what he shouldn¡¯t be like will be good for him.¡±


    With promises of additional training secured, that left only one thing left to do before Quentin could turn back and meet up with Razia out on the Boulevard. Truth be told, he didn¡¯t have to do it but the idea of going to the Colosseum and checking on his duties without also checking on the prisoners was unthinkable. Quentin stopped by the locker room to grab his mask and wore it, sans the black armor.


    When he got down to the cells there were two men posted at the doors. At the sound of his footsteps they put hands on their belts, but relaxed when they saw it was the executioner. ¡°Be careful,¡± the woman on the left said, surprising him. ¡°He¡¯ll drive you nuts. We¡¯re on rotating shifts in and out of the room so we don¡¯t kill him.¡±


    The executioner nodded sympathetically, unsure of what she meant. When she opened the door and he stepped through, he understood. Kassim Nadir lay on the cot in his cell, humming while a copy of him paced up and down the length of the room, letting out an unending stream of profanity. The two guards in here were at the table and appeared miserable. Upon seeing the executioner, Kassim stood up.


    ¡°Welcome back, moonkissed filth,¡± he said, wrapping his hands around the bars. ¡°Quentin, wasn¡¯t it? That¡¯s what the traitor called you.¡±


    ¡°The Butcher¡¯s moonkissed?¡± A man on the opposite end of the cell called. ¡°Huh. I¡¯ll be damned. Again.¡± He let out an unhinged giggle.


    The executioner ignored the savant and headed for the cage of the latest occupant. Graham Calhoun was a jovial, grandfatherly looking man, with tiny spectacles and a long beard. The executioner let his breath come out as a hiss. ¡°The child rapist.¡±


    The old man smiled. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    There were few times he wished he could execute a prisoner quick and quietly, and not let the world know they even existed. Amicus had this one saved for the Blooming. He wouldn¡¯t be a threat. ¡°Why?¡± he asked, the only question he could think of. The only question that mattered.


    Graham Calhoun shrugged, letting out a giggle. ¡°They scream better. They cry more. They think someone¡¯s going to save them, right up to the end.¡±


    ¡°Let me kill this one,¡± Kassim said, sitting up. His face was a stone mask as he and his copy stared at Graham. The old man either didn¡¯t notice, or didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Tempting,¡± the executioner muttered. ¡°But no. He¡¯ll get a fair death, same as everyone else.¡± Normally he tried to show compassion and maybe even kindness towards the end. There was none of that here and now, only revulsion and resignation. He turned back towards the Ramali captive. ¡°How is your nose?¡±


    ¡°What do you care, monster?¡± His copy spat a glob of nothing on the ground at the executioner¡¯s feet before winking out of existence. ¡°Your kind delights in pain.¡±


    ¡°Other executioners maybe,¡± he replied. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    Kassim¡¯s eyes narrowed. They were still puffy and tender looking. ¡°I¡¯m talking about your curse. You¡¯re an abomination that should¡¯ve been given back to the Darkstar as soon as you let out your first stolen scream.¡±


    It was easier to deal with this now, while wearing the mask of the office. There was a layer of separation that kept his anger at a low simmer. It wasn¡¯t the term, although he hated it. It was knowing that no matter how silly those beliefs were, Kassim was a zealot and meant every one of them. Being hated and feared was a given, but few prisoners hated him with this intensity. ¡°You¡¯ll get your chance to do just that soon enough.¡±


    ¡°How did a disgusting creature like you become the emperor¡¯s attack dog? Quentin.¡± Kassim leered. He seemed to delight in knowing the executioner¡¯s name, even if that was all he knew.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± Graham tittered from his cell. ¡°Quentin, Quentin, Quentin the executioner.¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± one of the guards at the table cleared their throat. ¡°Is he going too far? You want us to shut him up?¡± The other patted the club on her belt.


    ¡°No,¡± said the executioner. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary. If you were to beat him every time he was annoying, how much would there be left for me on the Blooming?¡±


    One guard snorted. ¡°Not much.¡±


    ¡°Is that what matters to you, Quentin? How much of me is left for you to kill?¡± The air in front of Quentin shimmered and Kassim faced him. His copy, funny enough, didn¡¯t have any of the scrapes or bruises on his face. ¡°Does the attack dog like meat that struggles?¡±


    The executioner sighed. This was pointless. He turned to the guards. ¡°Has Amicus given any special instructions about the prisoner?¡±


    The guards shared a look. ¡°He¡¯s on half rations,¡± the woman said.


    A twinge of annoyance. ¡°That would be for the wound on his leg. That ends today. I want him on rations and a half. He¡¯ll be in good health when we fight, is that understood?¡±


    ¡°What do we do if Amicus looks into it? Asks us?¡±


    The executioner shrugged. ¡°Lie.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you came down here, Quentin? You want to feed me and nurse me back to health so you can enjoy my death?¡± Kassim sneered.


    Yes, but also no. ¡°Trying to make sure you¡¯re being taken care of and aren¡¯t treated like animals,¡± the executioner said through grit teeth.


    Kassim burst out laughing. It was forced and overly loud. ¡°I know what this is. You¡¯re trying to make yourself feel better. You¡¯re trying to pretend you¡¯re not a soulless killer.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s throat tightened. He didn¡¯t have to be there, he reminded himself. He could leave at any time and just...Wait out the two weeks and come back and put an end to this. But he couldn¡¯t. ¡°You don¡¯t have a lot of room to judge me, Kassim. You¡¯re a killer too. How many men did you kill trying to get to your target?¡±


    If Quentin thought it would do anything, he was wrong. Kassim just looked amused, and even Graham let out another nervous giggle watching the argument. ¡°We¡¯re not the same,¡± Kassim said, offended. ¡°I kill for a reason. I choose my targets based on need and the belief that their death would make the world a better place. You kill whoever they tell you to, and I serve something greater than myself. Tell me, Quentin, do you believe in anything?¡±


    Listening to the prisoners was foolish. They had every reason to try to hurt Quentin and this one seemed to know how. He should¡¯ve just shrugged it off, but the question sunk its teeth into him and wouldn¡¯t let go. ¡°I believe in justice,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Compassion. That no matter how much of a bastard you might¡¯ve been out there, I¡¯ll treat you the same. That¡¯s what I try.¡±


    The real Kassim spat on the ground and the copy followed before flickering out. ¡°To make yourself feel better,¡± he repeated. ¡°I once watched you spill one man¡¯s guts and remove another¡¯s liver. Held it up while people cheered. I¡¯m sure he felt comforted in the end.¡±


    Quentin remembered that. Ibrahim...something. Something that started with an M. He was an alcoholic and a snitch, so the bounty was to make an example out of him. That had been just last year. He had no one to send money or last words to and he¡¯d rejected every attempted kindness. Quentin had felt sick for taking that money, but he still took it. ¡°He felt nothing. I killed him quickly and pulled his liver out after.¡±


    ¡°So compassionate,¡± Kassim sneered. ¡°You really are just handling meat. I think maybe you aren¡¯t Quentin afterall. Butcher suits you better.¡±


    The entire world burst into flame. Quentin¡¯s face burned and tingled, and his breathing caught in his chest as his heart worked overtime.He became painfully aware of the three other people in the room, listening in on their conversation. The guards would talk. Just whispers at first, but they¡¯d spread. This would be just one more way of confirming that he was a monster and Quentin wasn¡¯t sure he disagreed. He remained silent.


    ¡°I¡¯ve killed my share of imperialist scum,¡± Kassim said, dropping to just a whisper. His copy lazily flickered into existence on top of him, overlapping him until it looked like he had two heads. The second head continued, whispering, ¡°You wanna know what you are?¡± Quentin couldn¡¯t help but lean in closer. ¡°You¡¯re a bloodthirsty monster who wishes he was human. And this is what I think of your compassion.¡±


    The copy disappeared. Quentin had just enough time to see Kassim¡¯s hand on his exposed cock before he was hit with a stream of piss. He jumped back. Kassim continued pissing on the floor. The puddle oozed in Quentin¡¯s direction, making him step back until the table stopped him. His leg and part of his tunic was dark and damp.


    The prisoners howled with laughter. The guards looked away from him, and that said more than laughter could. Quentin wanted to laugh, wanted to rage, wanted to cry. He settled for freezing, fighting to steady his breathing. Since he did nothing, the guards took it on themselves to act.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s it,¡± the man said, drawing his club and the keys. The woman followed, getting in close. They opened the door and set upon Kassim, clubbing him over the head while he howled. With each hit a copy of him materialized and disappeared in a flash. Quentin watched it happen and said nothing. His fists were balled up at his sides so tight they shook.


    This wasn¡¯t what it was supposed to be like. This was the only place he felt happy, at home. Where was that place? Gone. Whether it was Amicus¡¯ death threat or Kassim getting under his skin, Quentin was engulfed in this horrible feeling of loss. He didn¡¯t have to be here, but he was because he cared. He wasn¡¯t a monster. Unless Kassim was right, and it was just to make himself feel better.


    Quentin left Kassim to his beating. He could¡¯ve stopped it and he knew he should¡¯ve. But with Kassim¡¯s piss still dripping down his leg, Quentin wasn¡¯t feeling especially charitable that night. All he said was a quick, ¡°Remember, rations and a half,¡± to the guards before he took the ramp back up to the Colosseum proper.


    Back in the locker room he threw the mask at his chest, slumping onto the bench in front of it. He buried his face in his hands and breathed in and out. He felt like shit. Defeated. Quentin had won a round and now Kassim had evened the score. He thought he was above being baited by the prisoners, but this was too raw to ignore. This was going to linger with him, long into the night.


    Then he remembered Razia. At the start of the evening she¡¯d told Quentin where she and Samantha would be working that night. He escorted her out of the neighborhood and before they parted ways, she¡¯d said, ¡°Come on by after you¡¯re done. Sam and I want to show our appreciation.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t something he seriously considered, but now...It was better than storming off home and being angry all night until he drank himself to sleep. The night was still young, he had a friend now, and maybe things could get better.


    After he washed off the piss.

 Chapter 22: Ladies of the Night

    Chapter 22: Ladies of the Night


    The Oasis is the place they chose that night. It was one of the bigger taverns on North River Row, and directly overlooked the water. It was the kind of place that always had a crowd, and exactly why he avoided it. The places on North River Row tended to be classier and better kept, which meant people like him weren¡¯t welcome.


    Razia assured him it would be different this time. This time, he¡¯d be with others and if anyone gave him shit, they would all leave. That made him feel better until he thought about it and realized he¡¯d feel even worse if everyone uprooted because of him. Then he put it out of mind and went to work, certain he¡¯d see Razia at home later. It didn¡¯t work out that way. The night was awful, and so Quentin caught a beetle south and found himself standing on the outside patio of the Oasis.


    A band played on a miniature stage and people danced around him, laughing and having fun. Quentin slipped past them as best as he could, only bumping against a couple of less than impressed couples. Inside, it was bright, lively, and full of beautiful women. Blinking against the harsh lights, Quentin saw a woman lead a man up some stairs to the second floor. The place had rooms, but it was clearly not a place for travelers to stay.


    ¡°Quentin, over here!¡± Razia¡¯s voice called out to his right. He looked where she¡¯d grabbed a small table she and Samantha sat at. Immediately, some of his bad mood dissipated. Samantha got up and rushed to him with her arms outstretched. Quentin didn¡¯t realize what she was about to do until she was pulling him into a hug and pressing her lips against his.


    He froze as Samantha kissed him, hard. It was a lot wetter than he remembered kissing being. When she pulled away, her cheeks were red. And so was her nose. She¡¯d had a few drinks and was feeling no pain. ¡°Mr. Q!¡± Samantha cried, almost directly into his ear. The place wasn¡¯t nearly loud enough to warrant it. ¡°Raz told me what you did. I gotta thank you sometime. Maybe with¡­¡±


    ¡°Consider me well thanked,¡± said Quentin, gingerly pulling away from her. Behind Samantha, Razia looked like she was holding back laughter. He patted Samantha¡¯s shoulders, half just to make sure she stayed arm¡¯s length away. ¡°Maybe buy me a drink.¡±


    Her eyes lit up as if it was the best thing she¡¯d ever heard. ¡°You got it, Mr. Q!¡± she said, darting to the crowded bar without bothering to ask what he wanted. Quentin shook his head and joined Razia.


    ¡°Aww, I think she might like you, ¡®Mr. Q¡¯,¡± Razia teased.


    ¡°What the hell was that about?¡± Quentin asked, sitting with his back to the wall, watching Samantha gesticulate wildly at the bartender.


    Razia snorted. ¡°What do you think? You got her out of debt, out of the hands of thugs, and out of a bad place of work. You¡¯re going to have to give her a hard no if you don¡¯t want her throwing herself at you.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t do any of that because I wanted anything,¡± Quentin protested. ¡°In fact, I actively don¡¯t want to be rewarded in any way, sexual or otherwise.¡± It was a strange conversation to be having in a crowded tavern, but it was no stranger than the rest of his night so far.


    ¡°Then maybe you shouldn¡¯t have dropped that many shards on a woman who shows her affection physically,¡± Razia said sweetly, breaking out into a cackle. At Quentin¡¯s frown she nudged him. ¡°If you like, I¡¯ll have a talk with her. It¡¯s probably better if I tell her and others I have dibs on you.¡±


    ¡°Dibs?¡± Quentin made a face.


    ¡°Yeah, dibs. Like this. Sam!¡± Razia called as Samantha came back with three mugs. The redhead froze in place, looking up inquisitively. ¡°Quentin¡¯s off limits. I saw him first and he¡¯s my patron.¡±


    ¡°Awww,¡± Samantha whined, shoulders slumping. Some beer spilled from the cups before she noticed and straightened. She set the mugs down and eyed Quentin like she was a predator and he was a side of meat. ¡°Fine. For now.¡± She bent forward slowly and suggestively and poked Quentin¡¯s nose in a way he imagined was supposed to be playful. Then she turned and went back to the bar, leaving her drink behind.


    Wordlessly, Razia pulled the mugs closer, setting two of them in front of Quentin. Quentin took a drink and let himself get comfortable, for the most part. He still hunched over the table, looking out through his cloak. There was a low level of background chatter straddling the line between pleasant and too much. This was already better than being scolded and pissed on. ¡°So, Patron?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about the only thing I can think of that could easily sum up our relationship,¡± said Razia. ¡°Seeing as how you¡¯re currently funding my shenanigans and giving me shelter and protection.¡±


    Quentin mulled over the word. ¡°I¡¯ve never been anyone¡¯s patron before,¡± he said. ¡°What all does a patron do?¡±


    ¡°For artists and craftsmen, it usually means funding their work and getting partial credit because of it. Making sure they¡¯re fed and well supplied.¡± Razia took a sip, watching him carefully. Quentin swore she waited until he was about to drink before continuing, ¡°For whores it usually means you pay me an allowance for me to fuck you on demand.¡±


    He choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering while Razia smiled innocently. ¡°So Samantha thinks that we¡¯re¡­?¡±


    ¡°Fucking, yes.¡± Razia took his hand in hers. ¡°Most people are going to assume that, Quentin, no matter what we say. Is that going to be a problem?¡±


    For a split second Quentin wanted to say yes. Of course it was a problem, it wasn¡¯t true! But as soon as he had the thought he questioned it. He shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I¡¯m not a prude, no matter how it may seem. I feel like it gives the wrong impression of me though.¡±


    Razia tilted her head to the side, considering him. ¡°What¡¯s the right impression, then? I didn¡¯t want to ask but curiosity is eating me alive. What do you have against sex? Are you a virgin? There¡¯s no shame in --¡±


    ¡°No, I am not a virgin,¡± Quentin said, louder than he intended. He hunched down further, as if he could shrink and hide from himself. ¡°I¡¯ve had sex before,¡± he continued just above a whisper. ¡°With two people.¡±


    ¡°At the same time? Go you!¡±


    ¡°No, not with two, --¡± Quentin sighed, chuckling along with her. ¡°Two people, two different times. And it was good. Really good.¡± He had gone over the memories so many times over the years, he could almost describe every moment by heart. The pain involved made him not want to. ¡°Both times ended...poorly.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to get into it now, but I was shamed and humiliated. And now¡­¡±


    ¡°...now you can¡¯t think of having sex without associating the bad times,¡± Razia finished for him, understanding in her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s understandable, and rough. I can see why you¡¯re hesitant to trust again.¡±


    Quentin couldn¡¯t shrink any more than he already was. He drained one of his mugs of beer, anything to avoid having to speak while his throat and eyes burned. The beer gave him an excuse to rub at his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not silly?¡±


    ¡°Oh Quentin,¡± she said, and in those two words were all the sympathy and understanding he could ever have wanted. ¡°It¡¯s not silly at all. If I¡¯d known I would have --¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± he cleared his throat. Eyes closed, Quentin did a quick countdown before straightening in his seat and forcing his face into its normal hawkish, half scowl that passed for neutrality. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t been you, I¡¯d probably still be at home, doing nothing. Besides, it¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t enjoy it.¡±


    He knew he said the wrong thing when Razia¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°So you did enjoy it? What about Samantha? Did you enjoy her grabbing and kissing you?¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Quentin cleared his throat, ¡°a patron.¡±


    ¡°A patron,¡± she said, dropping the subject, though the twinkle never left her eyes. ¡°For the most part that should keep the other girls away. Mostly. Fair warning? It might make some of them try harder. Stick around me and you¡¯ll be beating them off with a stick. Although,¡± Razia tugged on his cloak. ¡°You¡¯d do better if you let yourself relax and be here.¡±


    He thought of arguing with her. There were a lot of people here, at least twice as much as Maggie¡¯s Den had. They were split up between the tavern and the open patio, but with dozens and dozens of people going in and out, that was a horrifying amount of times his appearance could offend someone. Maybe bad enough to get them thrown out, maybe bad enough to be attacked. He¡¯d be outnumbered.


    ¡°How many fights does this place get?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. No more or less than any other place like it. It¡¯s still early, most fights won¡¯t be for another few hours. Does this mean you¡¯ll do it?¡± She bounced in her seat excitedly.


    He thought of arguing with her, but what good would it do? Quentin undid the clasp of his cloak and pulled it back, letting it drape over the stool. Underneath he was wearing a simple dark tunic. Nothing flashy or raggedy. It was painfully average and Quentin still expected every aspect of his appearance to be judged. It wasn¡¯t that he was afraid. Not really.


    Logically Quentin knew it didn¡¯t matter. Chances are he wouldn¡¯t see most of these people again and after seeing him he¡¯d maybe be a story they tell their friends. ¡®Hey, I saw this one freak last night¡¯. But the weight of so many eyes on him and so many whispers were enough to make his flesh crawl and hackles raise. A lifetime of experience conditioned him to always prepare for the worst and to never underestimate how cruel other people could be. If nothing happened, Quentin would still spend the entire time feeling like trouble was on its way. ¡°There,¡± he said, unconsciously crossing his arms over his chest.


    Razia pushed the other mug of beer. Quentin grabbed it gratefully and downed it too. He kept his eyes on the table, telling himself he was just imagining people staring already. He couldn¡¯t help it and looked up. Yes, there were people looking at him. Only a couple looked upset or disgusted. Some just looked surprised and averted their eyes when they saw he was looking back at them.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°You should leave your cloak behind next time,¡± said Razia, leaning against him. ¡°Seriously. You deserve to be able to be places and take up space too. You don¡¯t have to hide yourself away and worry about what others think. You can be out here, and have fun.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Quentin muttered, but he was listening. It was nice to hear, even if he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he agreed with her. ¡°So, other than drinking until we can¡¯t see straight, what is there to do in places like this?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said smiling, ¡°there¡¯s always talking to people. Making new friends.¡± At Quentin¡¯s grimace she laughed. ¡°There¡¯s cards or dice for those who want to socialize and have it turn sour fast. And there¡¯s dancing, if you¡¯re game.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nowhere near drunk enough for that.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll fix that. Oh, hey!¡± Razia stood up, waving at the doorway. ¡°Maria, Isa, over here!¡± she called out.


    In the entrance, two women had just come in and were looking around. One was a dark skinned, slender Ramali Quentin recognized as the dancing dusk-girl, the other was a middle aged, olive skinned brunette with a lot of laugh lines. Upon seeing Razia they made a beeline for their table. The brunette (Maria, Quentin presumed) was fine but Isa stopped short, lip curling.


    ¡°You,¡± she accused. ¡°What the hell are you doing bringing him here? You want us to have to pack our shit and leave here too?¡± She stood there, hands on her hips and glaring daggers at Quentin.


    Quentin felt momentary panic, more from the sudden tone than any fear of the woman herself. He looked around with wide eyes but Razia wasn¡¯t bailing him out of this one. ¡°Um. Sorry about that,¡± he said to her, inclining his head respectfully. ¡°None of that was any of my intention.¡±


    Isa scoffed. ¡°Is that supposed to make it better? We had a comfy job there. The men were gross but at least they knew how to toe the line. Thanks to you we¡¯re on our own now.¡±


    Razia spoke up this time. ¡°It¡¯s more thanks to me than thanks to him. You mad at me too, Isa?¡±


    Isa said nothing, instead crossing her arms and frowning so severely Quentin thought her face would stay that way. Seeing she was alone, she huffed, ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m going to see if I can get something going. If I work really hard I might even come close to what I was making before.¡± She stormed away from them and right into a group of men on the other side of the bar.


    ¡°Sorry about her,¡± Maria said, wincing. ¡°I¡¯d say she isn¡¯t normally that rude, but...That¡¯s not exactly true.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Quentin waved it off. ¡°Most Ramali don¡¯t like me much. I try not to take it personally.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Maria,¡± she said, holding out her hand in a way where Quentin wasn¡¯t sure whether he was supposed to shake it or kiss it. He scrambled to his feet and took it in his and gave it a shake.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± he said.


    ¡°Quentin¡¯s my new patron,¡± Razia supplied. They all sat down again, Maria with her back to the rest of the bar and facing Quentin. ¡°He¡¯s going to stop by every so often and make sure I¡¯m doing well.¡± Underneath the table, she nudged him.


    ¡°Probably a lot more,¡± Quentin said. ¡°My nights just cleared up for the next little while.¡±


    Razia looked delighted. ¡°They did? Since when?¡±


    ¡°Since tonight. I¡¯ll explain later.¡±


    Maria¡¯s eyes flitted between the two as they talked, looking more interested by the second. ¡°A patron, huh?¡± She whistled. ¡°Is that why you were willing to burn the Silk Lounge the way you did?¡±


    Razia didn¡¯t get a chance to answer. Samantha came back to the table, dragging a man who looked at least as drunk as her with her. Her lips were smeared red and so was his face, and the front of his trousers tented out. ¡°Making a deposit~¡± Samantha sang.


    Immediately, Razia pulled out a small lockbox Quentin didn¡¯t know she was hiding. She undid the top and Samantha dropped a handful of qala pieces in there before it was put back away. ¡°For what we owe you,¡± Razia explained. ¡°We¡¯ll tally up tonight¡¯s earnings at the end, take what we need and give you the rest.¡±


    The man behind Samantha looked at Quentin, but after the brief recognition that he was indeed unusual, he only had eyes for the curvy redhead. ¡°I¡¯ll have plenty more by the end of tonight Mr. Q,¡± said Samantha in a bubbly slur. She headed for the stairs, dragging her customer with her.


    ¡°Mr. Q?¡± Maria turned to him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to call me that,¡± he said, embarrassed. ¡°Only she calls me that.¡±


    ¡°I kind of like it,¡± said Razia. ¡°And I know you couldn¡¯t possibly hate it more than other things you¡¯ve been called.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. If Quentin was being honest, there was this odd little thrill at having a nickname that wasn¡¯t just an insult repackaged into a name or title. At least Samanatha hadn¡¯t called him a moonkissed again. Quentin shrugged, half smiling


    ¡°So you¡¯re also Samantha¡¯s patron?¡± Maria asked.


    ¡°Uh. Something like that,¡± Quentin hedged. ¡°Not officially. Not like with Razia. Mostly I¡¯ve been looking out for Razia and ended up helping Samantha out too. Not intentionally, but I guess I¡¯m stuck with her now.¡±


    Maria laughed and moved her chair closer. ¡°What do you do, Mr. Q?¡±


    There it was. That wasn¡¯t something they¡¯d discussed before coming out here. There was always the lie from before, but Quentin no longer trusted it. It would be just his luck to try it again and have yet another person learn who he was. ¡°I¡­¡± He looked to Razia. She nodded and took over.


    ¡°Mr. Q here is a private arms instructor.,¡± she said, putting her hand on Quentin¡¯s arm. ¡°He teaches the children of the rich and noble how to defend themselves and does a bit of private guard work as well. You know how well rich people will pay for services they can trust.¡±


    Quentin nodded along with her words, trying to not let anything show. It was a better lie than he could¡¯ve come up with. He could work with it. ¡°I¡¯m between jobs right now and Razia is¡­¡± This was weird, even if he wasn¡¯t opposed to others thinking it was true, per se. It was a normal thing to lie about, he supposed, but not for him. ¡°Helping me relax before I find my next job.¡±


    Maria looked like she wanted to pry more. It was written all over her face. Instead, she just smiled and said, ¡°Well, it¡¯s good having you here. Any friend of Razia and Sam must be good people.¡±


    Razia stood, scooping up their mugs. ¡°Refill time,¡± she announced, heading for the bar.


    That left Quentin with a woman he didn¡¯t know, but he was beginning to get more comfortable. ¡°So, how long have you been a prostitute?¡± he asked. And then hated how it sounded. ¡°If that¡¯s not a personal question,¡± he added, too late for comfort.


    To his relief, Maria laughed it off. ¡°Five years-ish. When my husband died, it fell on me to support our daughter Tricia. She¡¯s 14 now. I take care of her during the day and work at night.¡± She looked to the bar, and Quentin followed her gaze. Razia had their drinks, but was talking animatedly to a woman there who was leaning in close. ¡°Looks like she¡¯s still on the job. You okay with that?¡±


    It took him a moment to realize why he might consider it a problem. Quentin just shrugged. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be? I don¡¯t own her. I¡¯m just here to relax and enjoy some drinks and company.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Maria, ¡°if she leaves I¡¯ll keep you company. But only on one condition.¡± She gave him a sly smile.


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°Maybe keep an eye out for me while I¡¯m here,¡± she said, voice dropping. ¡°This place is better than most, but you never know when people are going to get grabby or not take no for an answer.¡±


    He had to think about it. He didn¡¯t know this woman, but then, he hardly knew Samantha and Razia. Maybe it wasn¡¯t about what Quentin the executioner would do. What would Quentin the Arms instructor say? ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. So long as you stay in this area. I¡¯m feeling much too lazy to go far from here.¡± He slumped comfortably in his chair, as if demonstrating his point.


    ¡°The night¡¯s young, I don¡¯t have to start looking for work for a bit. It¡¯s definitely looking like I¡¯ll be staying for a bit.¡± Maria gestured towards Razia.


    She was pressed up against the woman, her face buried in her neck while the woman arched back, looking rapturously tortured. She had her leg wrapped around Razia and one hand against the wall for balance. Then Razia pulled away, whispering something in her ear. It was odd, seeing something so intimate happening in public. Quentin averted his eyes.


    ¡°Looks like,¡± he said, unsure of how he felt. On the one hand, Razia had been very clear about the fact she and Samantha were going to be working. On the other, it did feel like he was about to get left behind. Well, not entirely.


    ¡°You¡¯re really not jealous?¡± Maria pressed, leaning in. ¡°Most men I know would be a bit possessive right about now. Let alone a patron.¡±


    Quentin gave an uneasy shrug. ¡°I know who she is and what she does. Even if I wanted to judge her, I¡¯ve no room to. I¡¯ve done a lot of unsavory things for shards. I don¡¯t know anyone who hasn¡¯t. She said it best, ¡®a girl¡¯s gotta eat¡¯.¡± He risked looking back at Razia in time to see her kiss the woman and bring her over to the table, setting the drinks down.


    ¡°Mr. Q~,¡± she said in a playful singsong voice, ¡°do you mind if I take this nice lady upstairs and show her what she¡¯s been missing all her life?¡± Her smile faltered, and she looked intently at him. ¡°If you say no, I¡¯ll stay here with you.¡±


    Quentin looked over to the woman. She was older, in her fifties at least and looked as excited as a young girl. She had her arm around Razia¡¯s petite shoulders and looked uncomfortably aware of people watching her and judging her. Quentin could relate.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Quentin, trying to give the woman a reassuring smile. ¡°Have fun.¡± After a gesture from Razia, Quentin pulled up the lockbox and opened it up. The woman reached into her purse and dropped a handful of shards in it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± the woman murmured. Razia¡¯s hand around her dipped low and the woman jumped in place, turning bright red.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in...Say, an hour,¡± Razia said. She mouthed thank you and led the eager woman upstairs.


    Alone again with Maria, Quentin found himself chuckling. ¡°I don¡¯t normally spend my time with women like you,¡± he admitted. ¡°Seeing her turn the charm on someone else is weird. I wonder if I look that completely lost when she does.¡± He marveled that he said that openly, but Maria laughed sympathetically.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t doubt it. I kind of miss when people would look at me the same way,¡± she said wistfully. ¡°When you get older, things start to slip and you have to try a little harder than before. I do alright,¡± she added, ¡°but I know I can¡¯t do this forever.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean,¡± Quentin said. ¡°My job¡¯s the same way. Can¡¯t do it forever, but I can¡¯t think of retiring just yet. Not when I have this much life in me.¡± Quentin raised his cup, and Maria did the same.


    ¡°To not being too old?¡± Maria said, cocking her head to the side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that,¡± Quentin smiled and did just that.


    A short, sharp scream had him coughing and sputtering. He and Maria looked up together. Across the way, Isa was in the other corner, surrounded by men. One of them had their hands on her crotch and squeezed it. She shoved at him and in return he backhanded her. Quentin was on his feet, fist clenched. But then he froze.


    This wasn¡¯t his problem. Not only was this not his problem, but Isa had been very rude to him. Chances are she wouldn¡¯t appreciate him interfering, even if she was in trouble. Quentin knew the type. But watching the guys in the corner manhandle her and drag her back down into one of their laughs, his blood boiled. Quentin looked at Maria.


    She was frowning and looked upset, but also resigned. She looked at him and then back at Isa. ¡°She¡¯s in trouble,¡± she said. ¡°Could you...Do something? Anything. I know she can be a real bitch sometimes, but she doesn¡¯t deserve what¡¯s likely to happen to her.¡±


    Quentin cursed under his breath. ¡°Hey!¡± he called out. ¡°Leave her alone.¡±


    Over a dozen men in that side of the building looked up at him, faces turning grim. Over half of them stood as Quentin stepped forward, wondering why he kept doing this to himself.

 Chapter 23: The Accidental Pimp

    Chapter 23: The Accidental Pimp


    ¡°Leave her alone.¡± Quentin couldn¡¯t believe he was doing this. Again. It wasn¡¯t that he was opposed to helping out Razia or her friends. That much should¡¯ve been clear by now. It was sticking his neck out and getting himself into trouble that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Stepping forward against a group of eight or so men was stupid.


    The wave of laughter they responded with said they agreed. ¡°Fuck off,¡± the man holding onto Isa scoffed. ¡°Mind your own business, freak. You¡¯ve got enough whores, this one¡¯s ours.¡±


    Isa¡¯s face twisted to hate and she pulled on her arm, but the man¡¯s grip was like iron. Her top was ripped open with one small breast hanging out, and her lip was puffy and swollen. She made eye contact with Quentin and there was a mix of loathing and fear. She glared daggers at him until she looked away.


    At this point they¡¯d attracted an audience. The people at the bar turned around to watch the building conflict. The bartender leaned forward on his knuckles, frowning. He could tell when violence was about to break out and he was expecting it to get ugly. Quentin couldn¡¯t blame him. He cleared his throat and leveled his best confident glare at the others.


    ¡°She¡¯s one of my girls too. At the very least, she doesn¡¯t look like she wants to be yours. Let her go and walk away, or be unable to walk at all.¡± Quentin raised himself up to his full height and scowled.


    ¡°Get him.¡±


    The two men closest to Quentin burst into motion. The first one¡¯s fist caught him on the chin and the next got him in the stomach. The impact landed long before the pain, blooming when he was already on the ground. A third joined them and they rained punches down on Quentin¡¯s head and side. It happened so quickly he barely had time to raise his arms to shield himself from the worst of it.


    This was about what he expected for sticking his neck out for someone else in this shithole of a city. After the first few seconds of getting pummeled, the pain faded into the background and lightning flowed through his veins. Quentin focused and weathered out the storm until the rain of blows slowed to a stop. It hurt, but these men were drunk as hell and had all the coordination of angry toddlers. He breathed heavily, tasting blood and feeling it running on his face.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of here while you can,¡± the leader of the men said, laughing. The others joined in, reveling in the feeling of power and control. It was enough to make a man mad enough to fight back.


    Quentin pushed himself to his feet. Everything hurt, but in a way it was refreshing. The pain meant he was alive and had a reason to let go. They hit him first. The man closest to him hadn¡¯t moved away from him. As Quentin straightened, the man, an average looking schlub around Quentin¡¯s age, raised his fist. Quentin gathered the blood in his mouth and sprayed it in his face. The man recoiled, eyelashes fluttering closed. He didn¡¯t see the foot coming, crashing against his testicles. He dropped.


    It had taken maybe two seconds for the man to raise his fist and then get dropped, letting out a breathless scream on the ground as he clutched at his crotch. The rest of them were barely at bay after the initial attack. Now they surged forward, but Quentin was ready for them. He¡¯d no more kicked the first man before he took a step back and scooped up the barstool behind him. He swung it around in one smooth motion, breaking it over the next attacker¡¯s head. The stool shattered on impact, leaving two of the three legs in Quentin¡¯s hands and the rest of the stool in pieces on the floor next to the second fallen fighter.


    The tavern erupted with a crescendo of noise. Seconds later, panting and holding up the legs as makeshift weapons, Quentin realized it was cheers. The other patrons dropped what they were doing and were watching now, forming a ring of bodies that pinned Quentin and his opponents in. This corner of the Mirage was now an arena. Quentin grinned, baring bloody teeth. His nearest opponent took a step back.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± The man in the back barked. ¡°There¡¯s more of you than him!¡± It was telling that he stayed back with an ironclad grip on Isa¡¯s arm while his friends did the fighting.


    The remaining five of them came at Quentin, two in the front and three holding back and looking for an opening. He supposed he was lucky they didn¡¯t dogpile him and beat him to an even bloodier pulp while he was helpless. Quentin intended to capitalize on that luck and show them what he was made of. He launched himself forward, swinging the stool legs down on one¡¯s head as the second collided with him.


    They went crashing to the ground and Quentin laughed, fierce and carefree. Some people fought because they were scared, or they wanted to hurt others or impose their will. Sometimes though, the best reason for fighting was the sheer fucking delight of it. Now that he was on the floor with the man throwing a punch into his side, Quentin had all but forgotten Isa and Maria and the rest of them in favor of being in the moment. He thrust his elbow into the man¡¯s face two, three times until he heard a crunch.


    Quentin was back on his feet, clutching the one leg of the stool he still had a grip on. It was just in time for the next man to jump on his back and pull the stick against his throat. The audience gasped and began shouting.


    ¡°Clrk...Grahk,¡± Quentin choked out. He tried elbowing this one too, but the man on his back twisted out of the way and wrenched the wooden leg further against Quentin¡¯s windpipe. The world darkened pulse by pulse with each beat of his heart, growing dimmer and dimmer by the second.


    He threw himself backwards against the wall. The grip loosened. He slammed backwards one more time and tore away just in time to get punched by the next man. The fist connected with his cheek and the world flickered out for a split second as he stumbled, catching himself on the table. He whirled around, bringing the stool leg across the guy¡¯s face. It snapped, his legs buckled, he dropped.


    Standing there, breathing hard and pulsating with pain, Quentin was alive and full of joy. There were only two men left standing and a third who was getting to his knees. Quentin planted his foot on his back and forced him back to the ground. He looked up at the two men and smiled again. He dreaded to think of what he looked like, face swollen and bleeding, blood seeping between his teeth and new bruises already forming all along his chest, shoulders, and arms. It was hard sometimes, to avoid giving in and showing them what they expected of him.


    But Quentin didn¡¯t feel any guilt then. That would come later when the adrenaline wore out and he crashed and all the aches and pains became too loud to just ignore. Right now all he could feel was a thrill at another won fight and the look of disbelief and fear on the face of the man holding onto Isa. The disgust on her face was now fear, and a small part of him couldn¡¯t help but enjoy that as well. He¡¯d feel bad about it later.


    Quentin pointed the broken hunk of wood in his hand at them. ¡°Let her go.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t have much left,¡± the other one said, taking a step forward. ¡°You¡¯re barely standing.¡±


    Quentin let out a delighted laugh. ¡°Find out.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± The bartender pushed his way past the ring of people, holding a small bolter. He pointed it in their general direction. Bolters that size weren¡¯t usually fatal, but the bolts were often coated with alchemical tranquilizers or poisons. ¡°Just let the whore go, Kevin. You¡¯ve lost and made a fucking mess for me to clean up.¡±


    Kevin gesticulated wildly at Quentin. ¡°Why not shoot him and end it? He came after us. You really going to let some moonkissed monster come in and attack your customers?¡±


    The bartender snorted. ¡°I saw it all. Get your friends and get the fuck out of here. Maybe stay clear for a week and get your head on straight.¡± He turned the bolter on Kevin.


    ¡°This is beetleshit,¡± Kevin muttered, but he did as he was told. He and his friend roused and helped their friends to their feet. Quentin took a couple steps back, ready to defend himself in case any of them had thoughts of a round two. They poured out of the tavern, past the whispering audience. Quentin saw shards change hands throughout the room and couldn¡¯t help but laugh. He¡¯d nearly forgotten how nice it was to have a good, healthy brawl where everyone walked away when it was over.


    The bartender turned the bolter on Quentin. ¡°As for you¡­¡± he said, eyes narrowing.


    Quentin dropped the hunk of wood and held his hands up. ¡°My apologies,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the damages and clean up.¡±


    The bartender¡¯s demeanor changed instantly. He lowered the bolter. ¡°I should throw you out too,¡± he said without any real conviction. ¡°What kind of moron takes on that many guys at once?¡±


    ¡°The same kind of moron who won.¡±


    The bartender laughed, and it was like the spell had broken. The same people cheering on the fight and watching intently turned back to their drinks and friends. Isa moved out of the corner, holding her top closed, and sat at Quentin¡¯s table. Quentin limped back to his seat and collapsed in it. Maria was up on her feet and fussing over Isa.


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    ¡°Are you okay? Let me get a look at you,¡± Maria cupped Isa¡¯s cheek and turned her to the side, frowning as she inspected her fat lip. Isa wrinkled her nose and pulled away.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, stop,¡± Isa smacked Maria¡¯s hands away from her face. ¡°Stop. And you,¡± she turned to Quentin, ¡°I didn¡¯t need your help.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± said Quentin, taking out some shards and handing them to the bartender, who came by with a cup of water and an almost clean towel. He swirled some water in his mouth and spat it out into another cup. ¡°Blame Maria. She asked me to step in.¡±


    Maria puffed up. ¡°I will not apologize for looking after you. Mr. Q here --¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to call me that.¡±


    ¡°Look at what he went through to protect you,¡± Maria insisted. She took the towel from him and dipped it in the water. Gingerly wiping away the blood on his face she said, ¡°You don¡¯t have to like him but you owe him a little respect.¡±


    Isa narrowed her eyes. She pointed at Quentin. ¡°I owe you nothing.¡±


    Quentin grunted. ¡°I agree. Thank you for being reasonable.¡± He held still as Maria cleaned him up. He briefly thought it odd, but as the energy from the fight left him unable to worry or stress about the little things. Quentin never had someone else clean him up after a public brawl. It was actually pretty nice.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Isa said.


    It was hard to be offended when she was as upset as she was. It ended up being more amusing than anything. Quentin smiled at Isa, and that smile only grew when she pointedly looked away from them both. Maria stood back, satisfied with her work.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have some bruises and cuts, but I think the worst of the bleeding¡¯s stopped. Quicker than I¡¯d expect, honestly.


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°I heal pretty fast. Thanks,¡± he said, grabbing the remnants of his drink and finishing it. It stung like a bitch, but that wasn¡¯t about to stop Quentin from enjoying a good beer.


    After that, things were a lot smoother. It wasn¡¯t quite like Maggie¡¯s Den, when people came by to talk with him afterwards for hours. Of course, he hadn¡¯t beaten the piss out of half a dozen men at Maggie¡¯s. Quentin could hardly blame people for staying away after seeing that. Or when they saw his bruised up, still bloodied face. Quentin didn¡¯t expect anyone to want to come to his table after that, but he was wrong.


    ¡°Can I join you?¡± A young woman with straight black hair and hauntingly blue eyes asked. It wasn¡¯t the first thing she¡¯d said, which was a greeting to Maria, but it was the first thing she said to Quentin. He looked around and then felt silly for it. There was no one but them in that corner.


    ¡°Uh. Sure?¡± Quentin pulled his empty cups closer, and frowned when he realized they were empty. ¡°What¡¯s your name? What¡¯re you drinking?¡±


    The woman visibly relaxed. ¡°I¡¯m Lucy, and I like wine.¡± She sat next to Isa, who had spent the last few minutes rearranging the layered silk wraps she wore until she was no longer giving a free show. Without being asked, Maria stood up and gathered their mugs and went to the bar for them.


    ¡°Well, welcome,¡± said Quentin, who realized he had no idea what to say to someone new. He could¡¯ve asked her why she was there, but that was a little confrontational and he didn¡¯t want to scare her off by being...Well, him. Instead, he watched Lucy in silence for a few seconds. She looked nervous. ¡°So,¡± he said, clearing his throat. ¡°Are you...Working tonight too?¡± He nodded towards Maria and Isa.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to,¡± Lucy said. She let out a nervous laugh, looking around. ¡°This is my first time working here though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d do better to sit elsewhere,¡± Isa sniffed. ¡°The moonkissed is going to drive customers away. I guarantee it.¡±


    Before Quentin had a chance to even think about getting angry, Lucy turned to her and said, ¡°Didn¡¯t he just save you?¡±


    Isa seethed. Silently, she stood up and with one lingering glare at Quentin, she left the tavern. Lucy followed Isa with her eyes, wincing as she practically snarled at a couple trying to enter at the same time she was leaving. ¡°You let her talk to you like that?¡± Lucy asked, sounding bewildered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if let is the right word. I don¡¯t really know her,¡± said Quentin. Maria returned with an armful of drinks. He stood and helped her put them down, then continued, ¡°She¡¯s upset, embarrassed, and seems rude. No point in getting mad over someone who decided they¡¯re going to be a shit, no matter what.¡±


    Maria made a sound of understanding as she took her seat again. ¡°She left, huh? Don¡¯t worry about her. She¡¯ll come around. The real question is, how¡¯ve you been, Lucy? You getting enough to eat?¡±


    Lucy was the first but not the last person to come by their table. Then came Amy and Jenna, as a pair. They introduced themselves and then the girls began talking amongst themselves so quickly Quentin had trouble following. He sat back with his drink and listened. Being a part of a group, accepted and welcome, without having anything expected of him was a rare treat.


    Before too long, Samantha came back, giggly and tired looking. Her makeup was askew and her curly hair plastered to her head. She collapsed into the seat next to Quentin and took his drink. ¡°Miss me?¡± she asked before downing it in one long guzzle. Quentin couldn¡¯t help but shake his head and give her shoulder an affectionate pat. Her return must¡¯ve been Lucy¡¯s cue, because she got up shortly after and roamed the tavern for clients. Maria joined her, letting her fingers brush Quentin¡¯s shoulder on her way out.


    When Razia came back down, she moved with a lazy grace, smiling until she saw Quentin¡¯s face. ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡± She asked, reaching for his face and gently turning his head to look him over. Quentin was just buzzed enough at this point to think nothing of it, other than finding it vaguely pleasant.


    ¡°A friend of yours got into trouble and I got her out,¡± Quentin said simply. ¡°Have fun?¡±


    A dreamy look passed over Razia¡¯s face. ¡°I did. It¡¯s always special when it¡¯s with a woman.¡± She gave his face a ghost of a pat and took her seat again. ¡°Hello ladies,¡± she said, nodding to Amy and Janice. ¡°How¡¯s tricks?¡±


    Quentin snorted as they both began speaking at the same time, trying to drown the other out. Razia¡¯s eyes flitted between them rapidly trying to keep up.


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty much what it¡¯s been like,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back.¡±


    ¡°Aww, missed me?¡± Razia elbowed him.


    Quentin grinned. ¡°Yes. But also I have to piss really badly, and I wasn¡¯t about to leave a box full of shards alone.¡±


    Razia laughed and shoved at him. ¡°Go then.¡±


    Swaying on unsteady feet and just drunk enough to not feel the array of bumps, bruises, and cuts, Quentin disappeared into the relative quiet of the toilet. Or what passed for a toilet in the tavern. It was little more than a hole in the ground, but that¡¯s all he needed. As Quentin relieved himself, he reflected on how the night had gone.


    It was odd, having the Colosseum be nothing but miserable. There were always good and bad days, but they rarely got as bad as being threatened by his boss and pissed on by a prisoner. Part of him still thought he should¡¯ve stuck around and got some exercise and weapon practice in, just to stay sharp. Then again, coming here got him a fun brawl and people who didn¡¯t wince when they looked at him. Well, once Isa left, that was.


    He shook out the last drops and returned to...His friends, he realized with wonder. At least two of them he could call a friend. That put a smile on his face as he pushed past the guy coming in to piss after him. When he got back to his table, there were even more people there. Lucy and Maria had found men and brought them to the table. Upon seeing Quentin¡¯s return, Lucy stood, clearing her throat.


    ¡°Hey, Mr. Q?¡± she asked, voice small.


    Quentin bit back a sigh at what was apparently his new nickname. He took his seat and said, ¡°Yes?¡±


    The man beside her also stood up. He was youngish, and looked nervous. He was practically hiding behind Lucy, looking at Quentin without making eye contact. That was a lot more familiar. Lucy cleared her throat and took his hand. ¡°Orin here would like to take me upstairs. Is that okay?¡±


    He blinked. Why the hell were they asking him? Quentin barely knew Lucy. She seemed like a nice enough young woman, but...Quentin coughed and looked over at Orin, sizing him up. ¡°If she tells you no at any time, what does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Um...It means no?¡±


    Quentin grunted and turned back to Lucy. ¡°Do you want to go with him?¡±


    Lucy nodded.


    Quentin shrugged and motioned for them to do whatever they wanted. Lucy beamed at him and held out her hand. When she opened it, it was full of qala pieces. Quentin stared at her hand, wondering what she was doing. Razia took over, grabbing the lockbox and setting it down on the table. She opened a secondary chamber and took the shards from Lucy, locking them up safely.


    ¡°Thanks Mr. Q,¡± Lucy said, dragging Orin away with her towards the stairs.


    Maria coughed and stood as well. ¡°Are you asking me the same thing?¡± Quentin asked.


    ¡°Yeah. If that¡¯s alright.¡± Maria gave him a sheepish smile that made her look at least five years younger.


    Quentin shrugged, still not entirely clear on why they were asking him for permission. ¡°Go for it. Be safe. Have fun. Hurt the woman at your own peril.¡±


    Just like Lucy, she held out some shards. Just like before, Razia opened up the lockbox and deposited the shards inside. Maria left with her client, and Quentin turned to Razia. ¡°What the hell is going on? What¡¯s that about?¡±


    Razia had a thoughtful look on her face. She was deep in thought for several seconds before she just shrugged and smiled at him. ¡°Just showing you some proper respect. Isn¡¯t it nice?¡±


    ¡°I guess,¡± said Quentin doubtfully. Things were getting fuzzy now, and it was hard to focus on it for too long.


    ¡°Have you been having fun?¡± Razia asked.


    Quentin nodded after thinking about it. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s been...Different. Weird, but good. I think. Better than sitting at home. I don¡¯t get why everyone¡¯s being so friendly to me. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m paying them or doing anything for them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Quentin,¡± Razia¡¯s tone turned serious. ¡°Us working girls know what it¡¯s like to have other people look down on us and treat us like shit. We know what it¡¯s like to be considered unclean. You¡¯ve been a decent man to them, so they¡¯ll be decent to you.¡±


    Quentin wasn¡¯t entirely convinced, but maybe it was true. If Razia and Samantha liked him, maybe others could too. He snorted at the very idea of it. It was good enough for now. The night was still young, and there was still plenty more to do.

 Chapter 24: Bait and Switch

    Chapter 24: Bait and Switch


    ¡°This is chump change compared to what we could get for the whore,¡± Philus said for the tenth time that day. He hadn¡¯t let it go for a minute, and his boys were well sick of it by this point. He couldn¡¯t help that it was true, and as far as he was concerned Philus needed to keep saying it. Maybe one of these times it would sink in.


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Markus groaned, covering his face with a hand. He dragged the hand down, stretching out his face comically before jabbing a finger in Philus¡¯ direction. ¡°We¡¯re not doing it, Phil. We tried, we failed. Let¡¯s focus on the current job.¡±


    The current job was Gregor¡¯s favorite. The lunk wasn¡¯t skulking in an alley behind houses like Markus and Philus. Gregor was standing in front of the house, and at any moment now he¡¯d bellow like an enraged beetle and get the attention of every house in a hundred feet radius. While he kept them occupied, Philus would sneak in and take everything he could get. Gregor might get to enjoy a quick fight, and then they¡¯d be off before anyone was the wiser.


    ¡°This current job is shit,¡± Philus insisted. ¡°How can you not want a chance at 13 aquilos a piece?¡±


    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± Markus hissed, looking around. His own part in the plan was security. Namely, making sure no one came poking around after he helped boost Philus through the window. ¡°It¡¯s not a question of how many shards we can get. You know that. We¡¯ve been over this. It¡¯s about logistics for fuck¡¯s sakes.¡±


    Markus was talking to him like he was a child. Philus¡¯ face heated up. This was like talking to a brick wall for all the good it was doing him. ¡°What logistics?¡± He said, much quieter. ¡°All we got is one moonkissed freak to worry about. We deal with him, we got her.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the moonkissed freak,¡± Markus said, holding up one finger. Then more as he counted, ¡°and trying to get close to her to begin with, and transporting the bitch four hours south, and making sure the watch doesn¡¯t stop us. Should I go on? Forget it, Phil. We¡¯ve got shit we¡¯re good at. Let¡¯s stick to that.¡±


    Philus bit back a harsh reply. Markus and Gregor lacked vision. That¡¯s why he was the leader. They couldn¡¯t see past their noses, into tomorrow. Into a better life. They were content being rats, scrabbling for whatever scraps they could take from people. And it¡¯s not like it wasn¡¯t fun. But why not go for more, instead of settling for being scavengers? Philus had teeth, and he was ready to use them.


    ¡°You good for nothing SLUT,¡± Gregor bellowed from the other side of the house. It was sunset, right when the people inside were likely to be home from work and getting ready to eat. They didn¡¯t exactly case houses individually so much as check out neighborhoods in general. The city was big enough that they didn¡¯t often have to hit the same neighborhood twice, when they took a break from mugging to rob people instead.


    ¡°You ready to go, or are you going to keep arguing?¡± Markus demanded, nearly getting punched for it.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m ready,¡± Philus said through clenched teeth. Markus was forgetting himself and getting a little too bold. Maybe that should¡¯ve told Philus something, but all it did was piss him off.


    Markus moved up against the back of the house and crouched, interlocking his fingers. He looked expectantly at Philus, as if daring him to argue more. Yeah, this was going to be a problem if ignored. Philus took a breath to steady himself and stepped into Markus¡¯ hands. Markus boosted him up so he could open the shutters and climb through the window.


    His feet touched down on a bed, and he almost slipped on the pillow. Philus caught himself and took a look around. Whoever lived here was definitely not rich. Most people weren¡¯t, but there was always something they treasured, something they wouldn¡¯t want to lose. With any luck, those things were worth a few shards. If not, Philus was content just taking from someone else.


    Philus removed a bag from his waist and got to work. In went the loose shards around the bedside, and in the little chest underneath the bed. Hope they had other stashes, it was his money now. Next came the man¡¯s boots, which were nice and looked to be roughly Philus¡¯ size. Philus found the woman of the house¡¯s jewelry box. She¡¯d have to start her collection over. It was hard not to whistle as he scooped more and more into the bag. It was already full and there were still things left to steal. Philus jiggled the bag to make room for more.


    ¡°I DON¡¯T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU SAW HER FIRST, SHE¡¯S MY BITCH NOW!¡± Gregor roared, with the sound of fists slamming on wood giving Philus a surprised jolt. He laughed under his breath, giddy with the thrill of committing a crime. The smile on his face vanished when the door to the bedroom opened and a little girl came in.


    She didn¡¯t see him at first. She rushed through the door, pulling the doorknob closed behind her and stared at the door fearfully. Philus froze in place. The little girl shook with quiet, tiny sobs. Philus cursed under his breath. Most of the time he got in and out before anyone was the wiser, he hadn¡¯t thought about a kid. She probably saw her old man get punched out by Gregor and ran for safety. Philus backed up slowly, creeping away from the door until the back of his legs hit the bed. So did the big bag of stolen goods. The shards at the bottom clinked together.


    The girl whirled around on him. Philus grimaced. She stared at him, wide eyed. He put a finger to his lips. Please don¡¯t make noise, he silently implored her. This is all just a misunderstanding.


    ¡°Moooooom!¡± The little girl shrieked.


    ¡°Oh fuck you,¡± Philus hissed at the child. He jumped on the bed and heaved the heavy bag out the window. It landed with a loud crash of the family¡¯s junk clanking together. The door burst open, and a young, scared looking woman popped her head in. Seeing Philus, she screamed for her husband. The game was up. Philus scrambled to get through the window.


    He was halfway through and ready to pull himself all the way out when someone grabbed him by his feet and yanked on him. If he hadn¡¯t already been clinging to the edge, Philus would¡¯ve been dragged back and in for a beating. ¡°Oy, don¡¯t just stand there!¡± he called.


    Markus finished scooping the fallen contents of the bag back in and jumped, clasping Philus¡¯ forearms. He anchored himself against the wall and pulled with all of his might. There was an agonizing couple of seconds of resistance, then Philus shot forward, crashing into Markus. They tumbled to the ground together before scrabbling to their feet. Philus grabbed the bag and took off, just as an angry face appeared in the window. He wouldn¡¯t be following though. Not without his boots!


    Philus put two fingers in his mouth and blew a loud, sharp whistle to signal to Gregor that they were out of there. It was safer and easier to split up, especially with their attention already split. He nodded to Markus and they parted ways, disappearing into the labyrinthine streets of the city. Out of sight, impossible to catch, and guaranteed to win out. Another job well done.


    They met back up an hour later, in the grimy run down inn Philus called home, so north you could see the start of the tent city from its porch. This was their territory. This inn and the street leading up to it were the places Philus and his boys called home. Their throne, their best source of respect and tribute.


    ¡°You bastards back already?¡± said Eva, Philus¡¯ aunt and owner of this fine establishment. She was a short but powerfully built woman with dirty blonde hair and endless freckles that made her look younger. ¡°What, did you come running home with your tails tucked, boys?¡±


    Philus hefted up the sack for her to see. ¡°Not today, Auntie. We got a haul and we¡¯re gonna go out for more. We¡¯re ravenous sharks and the city¡¯s our feast!¡± he crowed, slamming it down on his table. He sat down and opened the top.


    ¡°Really?¡± Eva sounded torn between disbelief and interest. ¡°What did you rob? A stall? A merchant? A bank?¡± She came around behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder, craning her head to get a better look.


    ¡°Naw, some couple¡¯s house.¡± Philus pulled out the nice leather boots and took a good look at them. ¡°We would¡¯ve gotten more but their baby brat saw me and screamed bloody murder. I should¡¯ve obliged her.¡±


    ¡°You should¡¯ve obliged by killing a child?¡± Eva said in disbelief. She smacked him upside the head. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you?¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Philus flinched away from her. ¡°I wasn¡¯t really gonna. That¡¯d get me sent to the Colosseum.¡± Philus made a face. ¡°I¡¯m not that dumb, Auntie.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced.¡±


    Philus sighed. ¡°Bring me a drink. Please,¡± he added, after her glare threatened to burn a hole through him. He upended the bag and looked at the spoils. Normally he was supposed to wait for the other two to split the loot. It was to ensure that none of them palmed a piece or shard for themself before divvying the rest up. Not that any of them would screw their own brother over, Philus thought as he prepared to use the loot to manipulate both his brothers.


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    Normally they split everything up by roughly equal value or desire. Shards were passed out evenly, and they took turns calling dibs on anything interesting. It almost entirely prevented fighting over things when each of them thought they were getting one over the others, so they kept it brotherly. And that was key to Philus¡¯ plan. He made three piles on the table, splitting the shards into two piles, the boots and some fine silk in Philus¡¯ pile, and each of them got a piece of jewelry. And alongside the boots was a rock etched with intricate, if crude, designs. He¡¯d made them himself.


    It was only another ten minutes until Markus and Gregor came through the door together. Philus awaited them in a chair he had up on two legs, leaning against the wall. ¡°Welcome welcome, lads. Come check out our glorious haul.¡±


    Markus stopped short, eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°You went through everything without us.¡± It was half question, half accusation. Gregor pushed past him and loomed over the table.


    ¡°You trying to pull anything?¡± Gregor said, more than happy to be straight about it.


    Philus held up his hands in surrender. ¡°No, of course not. I¡¯d never do that to my boys. I just got here first and thought I¡¯d save you guys some time. I just saw something I had to have and called my dibs on some junk I liked. No big deal.¡± He offered his best disarming smile.


    ¡°Beetleshit,¡± Markus scoffed, looking over the table. ¡°You¡¯ve got an angle here. I know it.¡±


    Philus shook his head. ¡°No angle. You¡¯ve been pissy with me all day, Markus. I think you got a problem with me and¡¯re just using this as an excuse.¡±


    Markus bared his teeth. This had been building over the last several days, since they went to the Silk Lounge and got their asses kicked thanks to Philus leading them there and Gregor¡¯s inability to shut up. Somehow, Markus blamed Philus for that too. And then there¡¯d been finding where Razia was holed up, only to be denied by her protector. Maybe now was the right time for them to have it, if the loot didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s this?¡± Gregor took the bait and lifted the carved, polished rock from Philus¡¯ loot pile. He turned it around, thumb tracing over the intricate lines engraved all over the surface.


    The tension abated, though Markus still glared balefully at the side of his vision at Philus. Philus took the rock from Gregor and held it up for them all to see. ¡°I¡¯ve not no idea. I found it with the other stuff, near a big loose pile of shards. I think it might be magic. I heard of this one guy with a rock that found dropped money. Money people lost and forgot about it, it¡¯d take you right there.¡±


    Gregor looked at the rock with renewed wonder. His big blue eyes were faraway, lost in dreams of possibility and greed. Philus fought to keep his face neutral. That was one of them hooked. ¡°But you don¡¯t actually know it¡¯s magic,¡± said Markus, unimpressed. Gregor¡¯s eyes lost their luster. He set the rock down and crossed his arms.


    ¡°I felt an odd tingle when I first picked it up,¡± Philus lied, shrugging. ¡°If you don¡¯t like how I¡¯ve divided things up, I¡¯m open to alternatives.


    Markus eyed him for a second longer. He took the boots from Philus¡¯ side. ¡°You¡¯ve been wanting new boots for a while,¡± Markus said, inspecting them closely. He plopped them down to his side and scooped up most of the shards and put them in Philus¡¯ pile. ¡°So I think I¡¯ll take them.¡±


    If he thought it would piss the boss off...he was mostly right. Even knowing what he was doing, Philus felt a spike of anger at his friend¡¯s behavior. Sure, this is exactly what he wanted, but that didn¡¯t mean it didn¡¯t sting. He looked away from him. ¡°And you, Gregor? You happy with what you got, or you gonna bust my balls too?¡±


    That did it. Gregor glowered at him and put the stone in his pocket. He tossed the pile of shards over to Philus. He and Markus still had their share of the jewelry and a few qala pieces, but now the majority of the liquid assets belonged solely to Philus. Mission accomplished. ¡°This better be real magic,¡± Gregor grumbled.


    Philus forced a sigh and leaned forward, scooping all the shards into his lap. He didn¡¯t like cheating his boys, but they were getting away from him right when they were so close he could practically taste their payday. This would help with the next phase of the plan to get Razia down south. Philus looked up to see both his friends watching him.


    ¡°What?¡± He asked, eyes darting between them.


    ¡°What now, oh fearless leader?¡± Markus asked him pointedly. ¡°That¡¯s one job done. How about treating us to dinner and telling us what comes next?¡±


    ¡°I could eat,¡± said Gregor, to the surprise of no one. If there was ever a time Gregor couldn¡¯t eat, it was when he was asleep and likely dreaming of his next good meal.


    ¡°Then get something to eat,¡± Philus said, standing up. ¡°I¡¯ve got more work ahead that you two have made clear you want nothing to do with.¡±


    He was answered with a chorus of aggravated groans. ¡°Phils, brother,¡± Markus said, incredulous, ¡°let it go. We¡¯re not gonna be able to get her. Not while she¡¯s got that moonkissed lunatic at her side.¡±


    ¡°I could take him,¡± Gregor muttered.


    ¡°What if we could get to her when he¡¯s not around?¡± Philus asked, grinning. ¡°What if I¡¯ve set up surveillance around the area and know her movements now, eh?¡± He spread his hands, inviting the compliments and praise he was due.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re paying a couple of kids to watch and follow her,¡± said Markus.


    Philus kept his face from falling with great effort. ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon Gregor,¡± Markus sighed, grabbing his new boots and standing up. ¡°Let¡¯s get something to eat.¡±


    ¡°Think the noodle place is still pissed at us? We could blame it on him.¡± They were halfway out the door when Philus cried out.


    ¡°WAIT! One more chance!¡± Philus fell out of the chair and onto his knees. ¡°One more attempt and if this one doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll drop it entirely.¡±


    They stopped in the doorway. All around the inn, people were staring but Philus didn¡¯t care. He wasn¡¯t too much of a coward to say he was desperate. It wasn¡¯t the help he found himself needing, but their faith. They had their tussles and everyone beat their chest and roared sometimes, but they¡¯d never given up on him before now.


    ¡°Well?¡± Markus demanded after several long seconds of silence. Sighing, he returned to the table, Gregor bringing up the rear. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    The first part of the plan caused a stir, and was nearly a nonstarter. Over the course of a particularly chilly winter, Philus had begun to question the necessity of walking around everywhere shirtless, but Gregor in particular loved to walk around, displaying his tattoos and muscles for all to see. While it was great to intimidate the people they shook down, it also marked them. In the end, Markus and Gregor agreed to wear shirts to hide who they were.


    They likely wouldn¡¯t have if the second part of the plan didn¡¯t solve at least three of Markus¡¯ biggest concerns. Their first stop was an alchemist with loose morals and a seedy reputation. From there Philus exchanged most of his shards for a little vial with a dark green liquid inside it. ¡°Just remember,¡± he said in a creaky voice, ¡°if whoever takes this dies, it¡¯s not my fault, or my problem.¡±


    ¡°Naturally,¡± said Philus, taking it and stuffing it in his pocket. The alchemist flinched and pointed at Philus¡¯ side. ¡°Be careful with that. If that breaks the fumes themselves could take you under. Not my problem, unless your dumb ass breaks it here.¡± He slammed the door on them, the muffled sound of his cackles fading fast.


    Gregor shuddered. ¡°Maybe this is a bit much,¡± he said to the surprise of both of them.


    ¡°Better this than trying to fight our way to her and drag her struggling ass the entire way through,¡± Markus countered. Philus¡¯ heart swelled. Markus believed their plan could work. He¡¯d be done if he didn¡¯t legitimately believe in it a little.


    ¡°At least that¡¯s honest,¡± Gregor mumbled, but it was half hearted at best.


    The second stop was to the Boulevard of Saint Trassius, not far from where Razia and the moonkissed were. Against his better judgement, Philus believed that one of them really did live there. He hadn¡¯t at first. Why would an upper end neighborhood allow in a freak like that? Maybe he was muscle for hire for someone inside, but that wasn¡¯t it. Their second stop was proof that whatever the situation, they were there long term.


    ¡°Hey there Casey,¡± Philus greeted a kid on the verge of puberty. ¡°Keep your eyes open for me?¡±


    ¡°You got your purse open for me?¡± Casey countered, voice breaking badly halfway through. The kid leaned against the corner of the local Fleetfoot station. It was a great place for information, a neutral place where even idiots like Gregor wouldn¡¯t start a fight without thinking real hard about it. All money changing hands here was honest in the eyes of the gods, or else.


    Philus held up a qala piece and dropped it into the kid¡¯s bag. ¡°One for now. You¡¯ll get the rest on giving me something I could use.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Casey rolled his eyes. ¡°Your woman went south about thirty minutes ago, then east. She and her friend --¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t alone?¡± Markus butted in, grimacing.


    Casey held up his bag and jingled it. Markus nudged Philus, who gave him a pointed look. Markus sighed, nodded, and dropped a qala piece in the bag. ¡°Yeah, she had a friend with her. A fat redhead with huge tits.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s our girls,¡± Gregor perked up. ¡°Where did you say they went?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Casey sneered, holding up his bag again. Philus and Markus stared at Gregor until he too paid the kid. ¡°Your woman and her friend went to The Fighting Beetles. Dunno if they¡¯re still there. I came back and waited for the rest of my money.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all you¡¯re getting for now,¡± said Philus. ¡°Hey,¡± He held up a finger to stop the kid¡¯s angry retort. ¡°I need the rest for tonight. If my plan works, I¡¯ll come back and pay you double what I owe you.¡± He gave his best winning smile.


    The kid just sneered at him again and walked away. Under his breath he muttered, ¡°Wanderer shit on you all.¡±


    Philus turned to his boys and spread his arms, as if to say ¡°See? I got this!¡± Markus and Gregor groaned, making faces, but they were smiling before too long. ¡°Shall we go bag us a bounty, boys?¡±

 Chapter 25: Booze and Bitches

    Chapter 25: Booze and Bitches


    Quentin brought his shield up just in time for the sword coming down on him to stop with a loud thunk and a jolt racing up his arms. Jonas grinned at him and danced out of his reach before his counter swing could come anywhere near him. What Quentin had in experience and strength, Jonas made up for it with pure speed. His footwork was going to make him a legend one day. If he didn¡¯t get too cocky before then.


    ¡°C¡¯mon Quintius, aren¡¯t you gonna hit me?¡± Jonas teased, flourishing his wooden sword as he circled around his opponent.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Quentin returned, turning with the kid and keeping in a low, ready stance. After five days of training together every single day, the kid was getting pretty good. Good enough to be a challenge, and keep him on his toes. ¡°When I¡¯m ready to drop you. You fast shits can¡¯t take a hit to save your life.¡± Quentin pointed the tip of his own training weapon at Jonas.


    Jonas let out something between a laugh and a roar as he sprung forward. Each step was accompanied by a measured swing that Quentin parried and retreated. It was their most basic form, drilled into them from the time they first entered the training yard. Any and everyone could and would use this, but there was something to see it done nearly perfectly.


    ¡°Stop fucking around and hit each other!¡± Demetrius roared from his place on the training arena¡¯s wall. His feet dangled above the ground as he watched and beat rhythmically on a drum. Each low thrum of the instrument egged the combatants to stay moving, no matter what. Their fights were like a private dance, supervised by the head trainer.


    Quentin¡¯s own footwork wasn¡¯t nearly as good. He felt no shame in admitting it. Instead, it was exciting. Jonas was running circles around him in the arena, attacking for all he was worth. What Jonas didn¡¯t know was that a simple sword and shield was Quentin¡¯s preferred weapon. When it came to executions or brawls, Quentin was a practical man who understood there was no such thing as a fair fight. He¡¯d mercilessly exploit any weakness or opportunity presented to him.


    When it was his choice, like a friendly sparring match with the hotshot new gladiator, Quentin was very much a defensive fighter. He¡¯d learned from The Turtle, after all. Before Jonas was Demetrius¡¯ favorite prodigy, Quentin had earned his respect and all the tutelage the grizzled man could provide. Each step backward was likewise in a circle, dragging Jonas around without the teen ever being the wiser.


    There! Jonas finished the combo, ready to draw back to a neutral position when fatigue caught up with him and slowed him. Just enough for Quentin to spot the opening and strike, smacking Jonas¡¯ wrist hard enough to make him drop his sword.


    ¡°And like that you¡¯ve got one hand,¡± Quentin said. ¡°Going to learn how to fight with the other hand or should we graft a weapon onto your stump?¡±


    Cursing, Jonas picked up his weapon. His cheeks were red, and he didn¡¯t wait about coming after Quentin with renewed vigor. He launched himself at Quentin, blow after blow raining down on his sturdy wooden shield. Quentin pulled his arm back to slam the shield into the youth, but Jonas dipped out of the way and Quentin had an eternity to realize he was open. Painfully open.


    The next thing Quentin knew he was on the ground, spinning in place and seeing stars. A dim voice yelled for him to get up. He tried, but his legs wouldn¡¯t cooperate. His vision cleared and Jonas waited above him, sword pointed at his throat. ¡°Dead. You want to learn to fight without a head, or should we graft a weapon there?¡± Jonas grinned. ¡°I think an axe for a face would suit you.¡±


    Quentin glared at him before laughing. He smacked the weapon out of his face and took Jonas¡¯ helping hand up. ¡°Good hit,¡± he said.


    ¡°You shield bash a lot,¡± said Jonas, excitement in his voice. ¡°I knew if I baited one out I could probably nail you.¡±


    Demetrius slid off the wall and came between them, all but growling at them both. ¡°You¡¯re being predictable, Quintius. What does that get you?¡±


    Here it came. ¡°Dead,¡± Quentin said, shrugging.


    ¡°You¡¯re dying more and more these fights,¡± Demetrius pointed out, crossing his arms.


    ¡°Yeah, Jonas is getting good,¡± said Quentin, face heating up. He knew what Demetrius was going to say before he said it. Quentin had just enough time to inwardly groan at the incoming lecture.


    ¡°That Savant is good, ain¡¯t he? Good enough that it took a dozen men to bring him down. You think you''re good enough to face him? With performances like this? You¡¯re distracted,¡± Demetrius accused.


    Quentin wanted to deny it, but he couldn¡¯t. Five days of training had been some of the most fun he¡¯d had in quite a long time, if he was being honest. It was nice to spend a couple hours running around the track until he got a stitch in his side. Fighting a younger and faster opponent was just what he needed to stay at the top of his game and be ready for overwhelming odds. And it was fun. But there was a lot more in his life these days, and it was starting to bleed into training, towards the end of each day.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin admitted. The throbbing pain in his head was proof of that. ¡°Just a little.¡±


    Demetrius rubbed at his eyes. ¡°What on earth could be more important than getting in shape for the most important fight of your life?¡±


    The answer came to Quentin immediately. ¡°Booze and bitches,¡± he said, forcing himself to keep a straight face.


    The training was fun, but it was the least of his days. Over the past week Quentin had settled into a comfortable routine of waking up and having breakfast with Razia, taking care of his home, going to train for a few hours, coming back for a hot bath and then out each night. It was hard for him to believe, but Quentin had friends now. With no matches until the Blooming, he spent his nights with Razia and company, catching dinner and a few drinks.


    ¡°Nice to see you¡¯re taking this seriously,¡± Demetrius sighed.


    ¡°I am serious,¡± Quentin insisted. Then the thought occurred to him. ¡°I can show you. What are you two doing tonight?¡± he asked brightly.


    Jonas paused from drinking from his waterskin. ¡°Was going to watch the beast fights and maybe try and win a few shards off ¡®em,¡± he said, dropping the skin. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡± He at least looked intrigued.


    Demetrius stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. ¡°Watching the matches and making sure each fighter knows exactly how they fucked up and how to do better. You know, my job.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but do you have to do that?¡± Quentin asked, waving him off. Now that he¡¯d given the invitation, there was nothing he wanted more than to show what he was doing these days. Once upon a time, Demetrius had been his only friend. ¡°Ditch the Colosseum for a night and come with me.¡±


    Demetrius made a face like Quentin had uttered the unspeakable. He looked at Jonas¡¯ excited smile and the odd sly expression Quentin was making and he paused. ¡°I haven¡¯t skipped a night in years,¡± he muttered weakly.


    ¡°Sounds like a good time to try it then, yeah?¡± Jonas piped up.


    It was tempting to tell Demetrius right then, everything Quentin had been up to. But he knew how the older man was. He¡¯d be lucky to be interrupted once every couple of sentences to receive the latest scathing critique of Quentin¡¯s judgment and personal habits. So Quentin did what he usually did in a social situation: he kept his mouth shut. For a change, it worked.


    ¡°It¡¯s just the beast fights and some d-listers tonight,¡± Demetrius said, fighting to keep a growing smile off his face. Quentin had him curious and they both knew it. ¡°What¡¯ve you got for us?¡±


    ¡°A surprise,¡± Quentin said. ¡°Something you would never guess in a million years.¡±


    But Quentin was going to have to drag it out a bit and make them wait. Their first stop was back to Quentin¡¯s house for a bath and a change of clothes. Neither of his friends complained. They stripped down and joined him in the bath, letting the scalding water soothe their tired muscles and pains. Sharing a locker room together was the only thing that made Quentin comfortable enough stripping in front of them, but it was enough.


    They spent the better part of half an hour relaxing in the water, talking about training, the Blooming coming up in just over a week, and some of Demetrius¡¯ favorite matches in his long tenure at the Colosseum. They got out only reluctantly, with Quentin¡¯s promises of booze and bitches coming back to the forefront of their minds. Refreshed and dressed once more, Quentin led the men out of his home and onwards to The Fighting Beetles.


    The Fighting Beetles stood just before the western outskirts of the city. The Boulevard opened up even wider as the city proper ended and the desert sprawled onward. The Fighting Beetles wasn¡¯t just a pithy name. It was spitting distance from a stable that housed behemoth and charger beetles. A quarter mile away was the arena where people pitted their beetles against each other. Violence, gambling, and wide open spaces; it was a perfect place for Razia and the girls to go hunting for the night.


    ¡°This is what you¡¯re showing us?¡± Demetrius scoffed as they stopped in front of the building. Night had just fallen and the warm sunset breeze showed no signs of cooling down. The Fighting Beetles was a huge two story warehouse-like building, and it was crowded that night. ¡°You?¡± He raised an eyebrow.


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    ¡°Looks like a good time to me,¡± said Jonas, craning his head to get a good look at the people dancing on the roof. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll even get to see some beasties fight after all,¡± he said, pointing over to the arena. It was like a minor Colosseum, though nowhere near as intricate or well made.


    ¡°It does look like a good time,¡± Demetrius agreed, turning to Quentin. ¡°Which makes me wonder what made this guy come here. You avoid people like the plague.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Quentin said, smiling. ¡°I avoid talking to people. I don¡¯t mind if they¡¯re around. I like to people-watch.¡±


    Demetrius scoffed. ¡°And that¡¯s what¡¯s got you distracted from training that could save your life? Getting drunk and watching pretty girls from afar?¡±


    The smile on Quentin¡¯s face gave Demetrius pause. ¡°Not exactly,¡± Quentin said, leading them in.


    The Fighting Beetles was bustling, with servers running between tables and people playing cards with friends. The place may have been called the Fighting Beetles, but this wasn¡¯t the kind of place where fights broke out. This was the kind of place that actually had security to break it up and keep the fun running smoothly. Quentin led them around to their usual spot in the back corner.


    The anticipation and excitement swelled with each step. It wasn¡¯t often Quentin had anything to show off, and only recently did he even have people to show off to. Demetrius knew him better and longer than just about anyone else in the world, including Quentin¡¯s father. There was no way the man was expecting this. Quentin lowered his hood as they approached a group of four tables in the corner where Razia, Samantha, Isa, Maria, and Amy and Jenna sat.


    ¡°Mr. Q!¡± Samantha saw him first and waved the three of them over. The others (sans Isa) echoed her. Quentin¡¯s cheeks heated with a pleasant warmth over the dumb nickname Samantha had somehow got to stuck.


    ¡°How¡¯s the food here?¡± Quentin asked, accepting a big hug from Samantha.


    ¡°Big portions,¡± Maria answered, waving at him.


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Quentin grinned like a fool. It was weird, good food wasn¡¯t the only thing he was looking forward to for a change. Everyone here seemed happy to see him. It was almost overwhelming.


    ¡°You brought friends this time, huh?¡± Razia nodded towards Demetrius and Jonas, who stood a few feet away, gobsmacked. That¡¯s what Quentin had been waiting for, the slow trip there. The dumbfounded look of utter confusion on Demetrius¡¯ face. Quentin¡¯s face hurt from smiling so much.


    ¡°I did. Razia, meet Demetrius, head trainer and his protege Jonas.¡± Quentin¡¯s heart hammered in his chest. This was where it could all go wrong. He motioned to Razia. ¡°Brother, I believe you¡¯ve heard me speak of Razia before.¡±


    Demetrius worked his mouth open and shut silently. He screwed up his eyes staring at her, but it didn¡¯t take him long to realize what Quentin meant. ¡°YOU!¡± he growled.


    ¡°Me,¡± Razia said, standing and giving a mocking curtsy. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume Quentin¡¯s had nothing but glowing things to say about me, of course.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some pretty choice things to say about you.¡± He turned on Quentin, eyes blazing. ¡°You should¡¯ve killed her, but here she is.¡±


    Silence descended in their little corner. The girls looked at each other and Quentin uncomfortably as Demetrius¡¯ words hung in the air, poisonous and angry. Isa looked triumphant, as if she¡¯d been right from the start. Maria looked uncomfortable, Razia unphased, and Samantha looked angry. She hopped off her stool and jabbed her finger into Demetrius¡¯ chest.


    ¡°Who the hell are you talking about?¡± she demanded, voice almost squeaking with anger. ¡°Mr. Q wouldn¡¯t hurt any of us. He¡¯s fought to protect us!¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face burned even as there was a pleasant flutter in his chest. As nice as it was to have someone defend him, this was the wrong person for the job. He stepped in front of Samantha, gently pushing her behind him. ¡°I¡¯m not a murderer, brother. You should know that.¡±


    Anger turned to shame. Demetrius looked away, nodding slowly. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. I should know that,¡± He admitted. Behind him, Jonas nodded hesitantly as well. ¡°That doesn¡¯t change the danger you¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°Or the fun I¡¯m having,¡± Quentin countered. It was dirty, in a way only two close people could be, but Quentin added, ¡°Would you deny me some fun before the Blooming?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a dirty, rotten, scum sucking bastard Quentin,¡± Demetrius grumbled.


    ¡°Love you too, brother.¡± Quentin gave a crooked smile. He met Razia¡¯s eyes. She motioned towards Demetrius with an expression Quentin didn¡¯t quite understand. He tentatively nodded, finding that he trusted her a hell of a lot more in situations like this than he did himself.


    Razia touched Maria¡¯s hand and pointed to Demetrius who was muttering something to Jonas. Maria didn¡¯t need to be told what to do. She got out of her seat and draped herself around Demetrius¡¯ shoulders, whispering in his ear. His expression changed from irritated to intrigued very quickly.


    Jonas didn¡¯t wait for one of the girls to come to him. He carefully pushed past Quentin and joined Isa in the corner. He sat down, flashing her a dazzling smile. Isa rolled her eyes in return, but she teased a smile underneath the feigned apathy. She crossed her legs and set her feet in Jonas¡¯ lap. Razia sidled up to Quentin.


    ¡°Think we¡¯re in the clear?¡± she said, nudging him.


    ¡°For now.¡± He surprised the both of them by throwing his arm around her shoulder. It felt like a good moment, and it¡¯s not like she would object. Maybe. Quentin swallowed and tried to read the sly smile on her face. ¡°How¡¯ve you been tonight?¡±


    Razia shrugged, reaching up and wrapping his arm around her closer, keeping her hand in his. ¡°It¡¯s been slow so far tonight, but we¡¯ve got good news. As of last night we¡¯re up to seven aquilos towards our debt. We¡¯re averaging a little over one a night. Not bad for just a few girls.¡±


    ¡°A few?¡± Quentin¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I thought it was just the two of you.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Razia hedged. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing a few favors for some of the girls and they¡¯ve tossed a few shards our way out of gratitude. Most of it¡¯s been the two of us. At this rate we¡¯ll be square by summer!¡±


    She sounded too chipper. Quentin was on edge immediately. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me, Razia?¡± he asked calmly, squeezing her shoulder to show he wasn¡¯t angry. Not yet.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting pretty sharp,¡± she said, laughing merrily. ¡°Okay, so. I swear this wasn¡¯t intentional. Before I tell you anything else, do know that I didn¡¯t plan or do anything but sort of...Not stop it.¡±


    Quentin groaned. ¡°You know that¡¯s making it sound worse.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± said Razia, handing him her drink from the table. ¡°Take a drink, steady yourself. It¡¯s not that bad. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bad at all, but¡­It¡¯s important to me that you know this wasn¡¯t intentional.¡±


    He took the cup and took a drink, making a face. It tasted funny. He looked around the rest of the group. Amy and Jenna were chattering between each other animatedly in some kind of fight or mutual excitement. Demetrius was drinking while Maria had her arm around him, saying something that made him spit beer out laughing. Even Jonas and Isa looked content to go as they were, with him rubbing her feet while she had an expression of delight that eclipsed his. Even here in public with a hundred people nearby, they were practically alone as they talked. Still, he hated being this exposed if she was going to drop some complication on him.


    ¡°Okay, so.¡± Razia took a deep breath. ¡°Remember the first night here, when you got into a fight getting some drunks away from Isa?¡±


    ¡°Yuh-huh,¡± Quentin nodded, not sure where this was going.


    ¡°Word travels fast, Quentin. Especially about people who stand out or are unique. Like you, me, and Isa.¡±


    Quentin followed her gaze over to Isa. He couldn¡¯t deny that Isa was a beautiful woman. The strong, sharp features sometimes found in dusk-girls did stand out. Razia was of course stunning, and he was an impossible to miss eyesore. ¡°Yeah, I suppose. What¡¯re you getting at?¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the first time people were rough to Isa. We all have to deal with shit like that, you understand?¡± Razia slipped out from under his arm and faced him, still close and speaking just loud enough for the two of them to hear over the clamor of the bar. The smile was gone and she was dead serious now. ¡°Most of the time, we don¡¯t have someone willing to fight for us. Or if we do, it¡¯s someone just as shitty.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Quentin, still not understanding. His head was starting to swim a bit. Maybe it wasn¡¯t common for men to stand up for prostitutes, but that was a good thing, right? Quentin might¡¯ve been a damned monster, but he wasn¡¯t an asshole, at least.


    ¡°Everyone there probably talked about you taking on that many guys and winning. And how girls started coming up to you for safety. Figuring that you¡¯d proven that you weren¡¯t going to hurt them, and people weren¡¯t going to want to start shit with you. And how Samantha and I are paying you money regularly. Well, some of the other girls wanted in on what we seem to have. They wanted to pay you for protection. Your cover job encouraged them.¡±


    Quentin remembered he was supposed to be an arms instructor and high end guard. Things were beginning to become more clear. And foggy. He didn¡¯t know how that made sense, but there it was. ¡°Razia, have you been taking money in exchange for me being a bodyguard to these girls?¡±


    Razia made a face and shook her head. ¡°Not...Not quite a bodyguard. You¡¯re a big scary looking gentleman who hangs out with a bunch of prostitutes. They think you¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Oy!¡± A man yelled, making the entire corner look up from what they were doing. He was a decent sized guy, shirtless but he wore pants with suspenders that went over his shoulders. His eyes were lined with dark makeup and his hair was shaved on the sides, leaving just a garish red stripe down the middle. Piercings lined his right ear and both eyebrows. ¡°Motherfucker, the hell you think you¡¯re doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Quentin said, completely thrown. The world blurred. He rubbed at his eyes.


    ¡°You godsdamned better be!¡± The man spat, jabbing his finger into the air at him. ¡°E¡¯rryone knows this is Georgie¡¯s spot. Take your bitches and get the fuck outta here.¡± Behind him were a few girls of his own, dressed about as revealing as the women around Quentin.


    That¡¯s when it hit him. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said to the man, Georgie he presumed, and turned to Razia. ¡°Are you telling me people think I¡¯m like this asshole?¡±


    ¡°Oy!¡±


    Razia blanched. ¡°Kinda. Not like him. Better. Your reputation is honestly off to a great start.¡± She shrugged, smiling innocently.


    ¡°A great start? A start of what, Razia?¡± Quentin all but yelled. Everyone near them were staring at him anyway. There were too many eyes on him, too many people looking right at him and watching. Even Quentin¡¯s new friends had turned and faced him, looking uneasy. Were they friends, or were they supposed to be his girls? The world flipped upside down and then back again. Quentin swayed in place.


    ¡°Don¡¯tchoo ignore me, fucker!¡± Georgie grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and flung it at Quentin¡¯s feet. It shattered and pieces bounced off his boots. ¡°Get yer bitches and get the fuck outta here. The Beetle¡¯s my stomping grounds and you ain¡¯t welcome.¡±


    Quentin took a deep breath, counted to ten, and exhaled. He put on a fake smile he hoped looked contrite and turned to Georgie. The polite declaration of what Georgie could do to himself froze in Quentin¡¯s mouth, along with all rational thought. He managed to mumble, ¡°I don¡¯t feel so good,¡± before he collapsed.

 Chapter 26: Girls and Goons

    Chapter 26: Girls and Goons


    Razia, Samantha, and Isa walked down the street like they owned it. That''s the way to go in a city like Orchrisus. If you didn¡¯t own where you were, someone else did and that could mean owning you. They walked side by side, with Razia half a step in front of the others. Despite being the shortest and slightest of build, there was no doubt on any passerby¡¯s face that Razia was in charge. Something she didn¡¯t take for granted.


    Samantha was too soft, and Isa too sharp to make it too well on their own. While the former understood that and was happy to go along with her friend¡¯s plans, Razia was surprised that Isa was still with them. The dusk-girl was the type of woman who seemed to prefer to be alone, without anyone else¡¯s rules or expectations holding her back. Still, out of the past week, Isa showed up on all but two of the days. Razia didn¡¯t ask where she went those nights, and Isa didn¡¯t volunteer the information.


    ¡°Remind me again why we¡¯re going to the ass end of the city tonight?¡± Isa sniffed. She may be going along with them, but she had the uncanny ability to make everything she said sound like a complaint.


    ¡°The Fighting Beetle¡¯s big,¡± Razia replied without missing a step. ¡°Full of potential customers, and maybe other girls to meet up with and find a better, more permanent solution. Different clientele, too. More men who will want to celebrate or be comforted, depending on what happens to their bug.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t think the girls who normally work there won¡¯t be upset to see us tread on their toes?¡± asked Isa. ¡°Especially if the place is big and outside our normal bubble.¡±


    It was Samantha who piped up, as bubbly and happy sounding as usual. ¡°The city¡¯s big enough for us all to eat,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not worried. The past bit¡¯s been great!¡±


    That was something Razia agreed with. The past week was as smooth and problem-free as it was possible to get. Save for, of course, the fight that started it all. The fight that made these wandering nights possible. Razia still felt bad for how clueless Quentin was about what he inadvertently started, but he wouldn¡¯t have to be clueless for much longer.


    ¡°Yeah, great,¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°Spending each night with that ugly monster hanging around, staring. How many people have avoided us because of him?¡±


    Razia was having none of it. ¡°According to Maria, you¡¯d probably still be recovering from whatever those men were going to do to you if he hadn¡¯t stepped in. Why don¡¯t you cut the crap and say what your real problem is?¡± Her raised voice attracted some looks of people walking past them, but no one stopped the trio.


    Isa didn¡¯t answer at first. When Razia looked at her, Isa¡¯s face was twisted into a disgusted sneer, but she looked thoughtful. Meeting Razia¡¯s gaze, she looked down. ¡°I guess,¡± she said, sighing with all of the resigned disgust of someone who knows they¡¯re not getting out of this, ¡°I¡¯m waiting for him to decide he wants more and we have to give it.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Samantha said vehemently. ¡°Razia¡¯s already called dibs. Everything¡¯s been great since he¡¯s been around. I¡¯m making nearly as much as I was at the Silk Lounge, only I don¡¯t have to worry as much. We¡¯re a smaller group, all friends and no bitches!¡±


    Isa let out a bitter laugh. ¡°Yes, because the kind of man to hang around women like us is exactly the kind of man to show restraint and respect. You really think he¡¯s any different from the rest of them? Please.¡±


    Razia shrugged. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to hang around him, you could always go somewhere else. You don¡¯t have to come with us every night.¡± They finally made it. Just ahead was the massive building they were headed. Big, colorful letters carved from wood spelled out ¡®The Fighting Beetle¡¯ along with an artistic depiction of a behemoth beetle raising up.


    ¡°Easy for you to say. You¡¯re a fucking tourist.¡±


    Razia stopped so suddenly that Samantha bumped into her. She whirled around on Isa, eyes flashing. ¡°What the hell do you mean by that.¡±


    Isa didn¡¯t look away this time. She gathered herself up, looming over Razia, arms crossed over her chest. ¡°You¡¯ve talked about the kind of clients you¡¯ve seen. Rich men, politicians, even princes back at home if you¡¯re to be believed.¡±


    ¡°Trade princes,¡± Razia corrected.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Isa sighed. ¡°Point is, you don¡¯t have to be going around the same places as we do. You don¡¯t have to find as many clients in a night just to make ends meet. You¡¯re a tourist, slumming it up in the taverns with us. Unless you¡¯re full of shit, you could leave at any time. You¡¯re not struggling like the rest of us.¡±


    The worst part, Razia reflected, was that she was entirely right. ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Razia said with a twinge of guilt. ¡°We¡¯ve all got choices. I might have a bit more choice than you, but I¡¯m happy with this choice. I¡¯m happy working with you girls, and serving the clients we do.¡± That much at least was true. ¡°I¡¯m here for the long haul, working alongside you both as long as you¡¯re good with having me.¡±


    ¡°And of course we¡¯re happy to have you,¡± Samantha said, shooting a challenging look at Isa. It was the closest Samantha came to giving any of her friends a dirty or upset look. ¡°It¡¯s nice to have fun with friends instead of just pushing ourselves all the time.¡±


    Isa looked between them, frown growing by the second. Eventually she capitulated, sighing and saying, ¡°Whatever. But I¡¯m not going to give a single Qala to him.¡±


    ¡°Quentin,¡± Razia said pointedly. ¡°His name is Quentin. Going out of your way to avoid saying his name isn¡¯t going to make him any less real or keep him away.¡±


    ¡°...Fine. I¡¯m not going to give a single Qala to Quentin.¡±


    Razia shrugged. ¡°No one¡¯s asking you to. Everyone who¡¯s been doing it has been doing it voluntarily. If you want to enjoy the benefit of his protection without paying him, he¡¯s not going to care.¡±


    ¡°Does he even know?¡± Isa shot back.


    ¡°...Let¡¯s go inside,¡± Razia said, grinning guiltily.


    There was an art to finding the right place to work. As big as Orchrisus was, they couldn¡¯t work anywhere they pleased. Not if they wanted to earn enough to thrive. There were plenty of women who worked out of their homes, servicing their neighborhoods and surrounding areas. There was no shame in that, Razia felt. Just the opposite. They lived humble lives, not making waves and just trying to get by. Arguably, that was the most common and even purest form of sex work. Not too different from a farmer breaking their back every day to grow enough to feed their family. Those who worked like that stayed out of the busier parts of the city, and so they didn¡¯t have to compete nearly as much.


    For a woman like Razia, Isa was right. She had countless places to go and angles to use. After all, going for a politician or an advocate was much different than finding work with the laborers and common men found in the taverns. The normal rules for safety applied, but everything else was based on what you could pull off, and how you could approach richer, more powerful men and attract them. Men like that could afford to be choosy, even if in the end they were still ruled by their cocks.


    That left taverns and inns for the middle of the road girls who were neither rich nor poor. The people found at these places often lived there and had a room of their own. If not, it wasn¡¯t hard to strike up a bargain with whoever ran the place for use of a couple of rooms for some quick shards. Someone would clean it before it was used as housing for the night, and everyone walked away happy and prosperous.


    Some girls would find a place that suited them and set up camp there, like Samantha and Isa had with the Silk Lounge. Of course, the Silk Lounge was a good example of why you couldn¡¯t always trust in one place to be decent. That was why Razia kept on the move, and her girls followed. Anyone after her or Samantha would keep guessing where she showed up next. But it was more than that. The way Razia saw it, they weren¡¯t scavengers, they were hunters. Hunters always followed where their prey roamed.


    Maria was already there waiting for them. She was often among the first to arrive, after making sure her teenage daughter was set for the night and wouldn¡¯t get into trouble. She waved Razia over, and the three sat down at a table. Later when more people showed up they¡¯d push a couple of tables together and claim part of the tavern as their territory for the night, but for now it was just the four of them.


    ¡°I already got us a few rooms,¡± Maria announced as they sat down. ¡°Three of them, for us to rotate in and out.¡±


    ¡°Excellent!¡± Razia beamed. That was one more room than they were expecting to get. That meant more girls could work at one time, while at least one remained down below to watch over their stuff and be there for stragglers to find and join them. She reached into her purse and handed some shards over to Maria. It was likely to be a little more than the rooms were worth, but that was fine. Razia was going to look after her girls.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Isa, shrugging off her purse and slipping it into her chair to claim it. ¡°No need to waste any time.¡± She walked away from them, wandering around the place on the prowl.


    ¡°What¡¯s the hurry?¡± Maria asked, watching Isa disappear into the crowd.


    ¡°She¡¯s got an appointment with the flesh sculptor down at the temple,¡± Samantha said, sitting beside Maria and giving her a one armed hug. ¡°They¡¯re doing her throat and voice next, and it¡¯s not cheap.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°And she¡¯ll be off the streets for a week or two, recovering,¡± Razia added, frowning. Isa wanted nothing to do with the little group collective they had going on. She¡¯d hang around them for safety in numbers, but she wasn¡¯t going to share any of her earnings and she didn¡¯t want a single half qala piece from any of them.


    That didn¡¯t stop Razia from considering slipping Isa some of her earnings, just to make sure she was okay. Even without the momentum they had going now, not having to pay for her lodgings was making it so much easier to focus on helping the other girls. The way she wanted to before she¡¯d fucked everything up and came running north.


    ¡°Anything new with you?¡± Razia asked Maria, as if she hadn¡¯t seen her just two nights before.


    Maria¡¯s face lit up. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to say anything in case it¡¯s too soon, but...I might have a patron.¡±


    Samantha let out a delighted squeal. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic! What¡¯s he like? Handsome? Rich? Kind?¡±


    Shaking her head and chuckling, Maria said, ¡°He¡¯s in his sixties. Nice enough. Spent half the time complaining about his wife. I asked him why he doesn¡¯t go for someone younger and he said¡­¡± Maria screwed up her voice and lowered her voice to a gruff growl, ¡°When they¡¯re barely more than kids they want want want want want. There¡¯s no end of it. You look like a woman who knows her blessings and is grateful.¡±


    Razia cocked her head to the side. ¡°It¡¯d be real easy to take that as an insult. So what you¡¯re saying is he¡¯s as honest as men get?¡±


    Maria laughed. ¡°Yeah. He didn¡¯t say so directly, but I think he wants someone who reminds him of a time when he was happier. Probably before he made the money he did. I think he wants something long term, too. This could be my meal ticket!¡±


    The other two made sounds of understanding. While the men very obviously wanted sex, that was rarely the only thing they were looking for. A smart whore knew how to find out what it was and how to deliver it. ¡°This calls for celebration,¡± Razia said. ¡°Wine and dinner, on me.¡±


    Wine and dinner weren¡¯t much when they were having similar times every night, but that¡¯s not how Razia saw it. It was only a matter of time before her temper got her in trouble and sent her running again. This was the calm before the storm, and she was more than happy to actually enjoy it this time instead of going looking for trouble again. There was something to be said for waiting and seeing, instead of just acting.


    Not that she didn¡¯t act. After a light dinner, it was time to work. Isa stopped back before they were done to ask about their rooms, and not long after that Razia had the opportunity to make use of one. Her first client of the evening was a middle aged man with simple tastes. She sucked his cock for a few Qala and was back in fifteen minutes to wash her mouth out and be ready for the next client.


    Her next client wanted it all, and took the full hour she offered to get it. They started slow and built up to a frantic, blistering frenzy. They used the last ten minutes to cuddle with her head on his chest, letting them both come down while she thought ahead to the rest of her night. Razia came down after cleaning herself up, pleasantly sore and tired and ready for a small break. In that time, Samantha had found someone and all three rooms were in use. Maria held down their tables, getting up and finding someone of her own when Razia came back.


    Before too long, Amy and Jenna joined them, though they had to wait their turn to use the rooms. They weren¡¯t too put off. ¡°You won¡¯t believe what this bitch said to me,¡± Amy said, jerking her head at Jenna who looked disgusted.


    ¡°Me? You¡¯re the one who can¡¯t seem to decide between pink and purple. They¡¯re interchangeable, Ames,¡± Jenna said, rolling her eyes.


    Amy¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Interchangeable? How. Dare. You.¡±


    ¡°Good to see the two of you are in fine form as usual,¡± Razia said, settling back as they began talking over each other in a rush. For being best friends, they loved to argue. Neither of them paid any attention to her once they got into it. She idly wondered if they would ever start dating one another or if they were doomed to be frenemies. At least they didn¡¯t make things worse for the rest of them. It went on like this, with Razia taking one more full service client. They were all there at the table, taking a breather together when ¡®Mr. Q¡¯ finally made his appearance.


    ¡°You brought your friends this time, huh?¡± Razia nodded towards Demetrius and Jonas. Seeing Quentin bring people was a surprise, but a welcome one. Maybe he was coming out of his shell faster than she was expecting after all.


    Demetrius¡¯ mixed reaction was honestly amusing as hell, but Razia was on good behavior tonight. For a change. Maria was happy enough to distract the short one, and the boy had immediate eyes for Isa. Razia could hardly blame him, and it tidied things up nicely without her having to lift a finger. That might¡¯ve been the best part. It left her with Quentin, and what looked like a fresh argument between them.


    ¡°Are you telling me people think I¡¯m like this asshole?¡± Quentin gestured at Georgie.


    Okay, so this wasn¡¯t how Razia wanted Quentin to find out. ¡°Kinda. Not like him. Better. Your reputation is honestly off to a great start.¡± She shrugged, knowing there was no real way to salvage this until he got it all out of his system.


    ¡°A great start to what, Razia?¡± Quentin demanded incredulously. She felt bad, but the pained look on his face was honestly kind of funny. He almost looked woozy.


    Around them, everyone was watching. The girls were mostly quiet, save for Maria who was trying to distract Demetrius to no avail. The older gladiator looked like he was about to get up and back Quentin up in giving her a piece of their minds. Razia needed to get a handle on this before the night went sour and the illusion was disrupted. Things were still fragile, and she really did owe Quentin an explanation.


    ¡°Don¡¯tchoo ignore me, fucker!¡± Georgie grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and flung it at Quentin¡¯s feet. It shattered and pieces bounced all around the floor. ¡°Get yer bitches and get the fuck outta here. The Beetle¡¯s my stomping grounds and you ain¡¯t welcome.¡±


    Annoyance flooded Quentin¡¯s face and for a second Razia was grateful to the obnoxious pimp for taking the target off of her. That gratitude evaporated the moment Quentin hit the ground. One second he was ready to go off on Georgie, the next he was on the ground, letting out a low moan. Razia couldn¡¯t help but stare blankly, not really understanding what she was seeing. She wasn¡¯t alone. It was several seconds before anyone spoke up and of all people, it was Georgie.


    ¡°The fuck¡¯s he doin¡¯, taking a nap? I said for you bitches to get out of here. Now!¡± Georgie pulled a glass dagger from his belt and pointed it at Quentin. That was a mistake.


    Everyone at their table cried out, but Demetrius didn¡¯t hesitate. He was out of his seat and had his fist buried in Georgie¡¯s gut. The dagger clattered to the ground, Georgie himself following soon after. No one, certainly not Georgie, expected that kind of speed from someone as short and squat as him. Demetrius turned on Razia. ¡°I swear to the gods if you got him killed, you¡¯re joining him,¡± he growled.


    Now was hardly the time to be pointing fingers, but Razia wasn¡¯t going to try telling him that. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair,¡± she said, kneeling next to Quentin. She gingerly touched his shoulder. He let out another groan. That was good. He wasn¡¯t choking, or completely unconscious, or dying horribly. ¡°Quentin? You okay?¡±


    Quentin raised his head, bleary eyed. The smell hit Razia first, mind numbing and pungent. She jerked away from him, waving her hand in front of her face. Razia knew this smell. She wished she didn¡¯t, but once you¡¯ve faced it there was no mistaking it. She stood up.


    ¡°Someone drugged him,¡± said Razia, focusing on Demetrius. ¡°By the smell of his breath, my guess is Juice.¡±


    A collective wince went around the group. Orchrisus Juice, more commonly just called Juice, was the derogatory name for a drug one slipped into someone¡¯s food or drink. It made the imbiber more reckless, with lowered inhibitions and questionable motor control. It was named after the idea that all Orchrisans were pure hedonists, seeking fun over safety. Mostly, it was used to drug someone before raping them.


    It was with alarm that Razia realized it was her drink that she¡¯d offered him. Which meant that someone had meant to slip it to her and got him instead. ¡°We need to get out of here, right now,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m sayin¡¯...¡± Georgie wheezed from the floor.


    ¡°Juice? You¡¯re sure?¡± Demetrius demanded. At Razia¡¯s nod, he relaxed. ¡°Then he¡¯s gonna be out of it for a few hours. Let¡¯s get him out of here. Hey, Quentin,¡± he crouched down and threw Quentin¡¯s arm over his shoulder and stood. ¡°Easy now, lad.¡± Razia took the other shoulder, but it wasn¡¯t necessary. Quentin got his feet under him and looked around, blinking rapidly.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Razia asked him. His head rolled around to look vaguely at her. Recognition dawned in his unfocused eyes.


    ¡°Oh, hey Razia. You look niccccce tonight,¡± Quentin slurred.


    Razia couldn¡¯t help but smile. Lowered inhibitions and still he was focused on her without being gross about it. ¡°Thanks sweetie. Let¡¯s get you home and into bed.¡±


    ¡°Bed?¡± Quentin sounded surprised. After some thought he licked his lips and nodded. ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°I think I¡¯m ready.¡± He puckered his lips and went for Razia¡¯s cheek, missing her entirely.


    Biting her lip to avoid laughing she nudged him in the ribs. ¡°No Quentin, not like that. Not like this. Home, okay?¡± Razia craned her head to see Demetrius. ¡°You got him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I got him,¡± Demetrius growled, shifting Quentin¡¯s weight. He was a perfect height to hold Quentin up like this. Razia wisely decided to not point that out.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Isa said, stopping them before they¡¯d taken more than a few steps. ¡°What about us? Where are we supposed to go now? We¡¯ve spent the last week following you around, and now you¡¯re just going to leave us?¡± She stood, glaring at Razia.


    Razia glared right back at her. ¡°What happened to not wanting to be a part of this?¡± Cursing to herself, Razia said, ¡°Look. Come with us if you want, and I¡¯ll think of a place for us to go after. That sound good?¡±


    It was good enough. Razia and Demetrius pulled Quentin along through the tavern, Jonas and the girls trailed behind. Eyes followed the unusual train as they left the building, but no one bothered them on their way out.


    The trip was mostly silent, save for whispers in the back as Amy and Jenna argued about the hundredth thing that night and Samantha tried to break it up a couple of times. Razia tried to speak to Demetrius a couple of times, but he just grunted in return and it didn¡¯t take a genius to understand he didn¡¯t want to talk.


    After a while, Quentin didn¡¯t need to lean on either of them. He was still wobbly, but he lurched down the street well enough on his own, though it made for an odd display. Razia was glad he was too out of it to notice his hood was down as he walked down the street. People gave them a wide berth. Especially after Quentin started talking more.


    ¡°I dunno why we had to leave,¡± he said again. ¡°We were having fun, right? Let¡¯s go back and watch some Beetle fights.¡± He tried to turn but Demetrius pushed him along the Boulevard.


    ¡°None of that, Quintius,¡± he said gently. ¡°Let¡¯s get you home.¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine, but then maybe we can pick training back up? I feel good!¡±


    Razia took his hand and squeezed it. ¡°How about we get you some water and food and take it easy?¡± Despite the distance between them and the bar and Georgie, there was a pit in her stomach Razia couldn¡¯t ignore. She followed her gut and looked over her shoulder. Three poorly dressed men were right behind them. A second later she recognized them.


    And they recognized her. Philus met her gaze, grinning. Cold realization hit her. Someone tried to drug her and failed. Instead, they drugged her bodyguard. Philus let out a sharp whistle and all three men charged forward.

 Chapter 27: Philus And His Boys Get Into a Scrap

    Chapter 27: Philus and His Boys Get Into A Scrap


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it would be this crowded,¡± Philus admitted. He, Markus, and Gregor were crammed up against the bar itself. Gregor sat gingerly, fearing each weary groan of his stool. Markus¡¯ legs dangled above the floor. He was the only one of them who looked moderately comfortable. Around them, the Fighting Beetle bustled.


    ¡°Feels like I¡¯m gonna suffocate,¡± Gregor muttered, hunching in on himself. ¡°I¡¯d feel a lot better if I wasn¡¯t wearing...this.¡± He pawed at his ratty, too tight shirt.


    Markus finished his drink. ¡°The shirts are awful, but the crowd might actually be an advantage,¡± he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ¡°With this many people here, they¡¯re not likely to notice or recognize us. On the other hand, how the hell are you going to get her to drink it?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t an unfair question, but Philus hated it. Now that they were there, had their potion, and saw their target, doubt crept in. Razia and her friends were right there, completely unaware. Once she drank it, everything would be very simple. Either her friends dragged her out of there and they ambushed them on the road, or hell, maybe they¡¯d just walk up to the table and have Gregor carry her drugged up ass to the nearest beetle so they could cash in.


    It¡¯d be a lot simpler if there were fewer people here, if it wasn¡¯t so godsdamned loud at the bar. Philus could hardly hear himself think, and the butterflies in his stomach weren¡¯t helping. The potion hung heavy in his pocket. He slipped his hand around the vial protectively for the tenth time that night. ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± Philus said, projecting more confidence than he felt, ¡°we drug them all.¡±


    Markus snorted. ¡°Yeah, that won¡¯t look suspicious at all. An entire table of whores suddenly rolling around on the ground and moaning. Totally circumspect.¡±


    Heat flooded Philus¡¯ head. ¡°Then it¡¯s either that or we gamble and hope it all turns out for the best,¡± he shot back. ¡°If they all keel over, we can grab her and be out of here before anyone who might care has time to do something about it. In and out, in ten¡­Wait a minute. Don¡¯t look!¡±


    Markus and Gregor snapped their heads back to facing forward. Philus sat sideways, ostensibly facing Markus but he watched Razia¡¯s table out the corner of his eye. One of the cute waitresses stopped at their table with an empty tray and was bent over, talking to them. ¡°I think this could be our chance,¡± Philus said.


    The waitress didn¡¯t stay there long. Just long enough to get their orders and come up to the bar. Philus spun around, hunching down and willing the waitress to not notice him. Never mind that he was just another patron and hadn¡¯t done anything yet. The nerves were eating him alive.


    ¡°Two beers and a wine, Jerry,¡± the pink haired waitress called out to the bartender. She sat the tray down on the counter, leaning against the bar and looking away from them.


    Philus and the boys had known each other for years. At this point, they could communicate entirely through expressions. As the man behind the bar filled three cups, they carried on an entirely silent conversation.


    Now¡¯s your chance, jackass. What are you waiting for? Markus frowned and jerked his head towards the cups.


    Which cup do I pour it in? Do you know what she drinks? I don¡¯t know what she drinks. Stop looking at me like that! Philus gesticulated wildly at the cups, stopping when the bartender paused to stare him down. He held his hands up and turned away.


    Gregor shrugged.


    The drinks filled, the waitress lifted the tray.


    It¡¯s now or never, what are you waiting for? Markus grimaced, eyes darting to and from the drinks.


    She¡¯s not going to let us just dump the potion in, now is she? We¡¯ve blown it. Philus¡¯ face twisted in anguish. He pulled the vial out and pulled the stopper out, but paused.


    Gregor stood and blocked the waitress¡¯ path. He was way too close, leering at her. ¡°Hello you pretty thing,¡± he said. ¡°Wanna fuck?¡± His eyes darted to Philus. Now!


    Philus held the potion over the cups and hesitated. There was no way to tell which one was hers. He upended half the bottle into the nearest beer. Before he could pour the rest into the other drinks, the waitress called out, ¡°Mitch!¡± and he panicked, pulling away.


    The man behind the bar pulled out a nasty looking gnarled club from under the bar and gave it a pat. ¡°Get out of her way or you¡¯ll be scooping your brains off the floor.¡±


    Gregor outright laughed. He was half a head taller than the bartender and had at least fifty pounds on him, club or no. But a nod from Philus later and he backed away from the waitress, hands up. She gave him a dirty look and walked past him, on towards the table where the girls waited for their drinks. The bartender gave them a sharp look and put the club away. He snorted and took some empty cups to the back.


    Philus¡¯ heart pounded in his chest as the waitress set each drink down, one by one. By sadistic chance, the drugged drink was the last to go. The whores all reached for a drink. Markus sucked in a sharp breath. Gregor tapped Markus on the shoulder, pointing before Philus pulled his hand down. The right drink went in front of Razia.


    The Fighting Beetle was a loud, boisterous place, but it wasn¡¯t loud enough that the hushed laughs and cries of excitement from the three of them went unnoticed. People looked up from their drinks to watch the three men fall on each other with hugs and laughter. All of that anxiety from before, all those nerves, all of them were worth it. Gregor wrapped his arms around the other two and shook them in place as Markus let out an exhilarated laugh. They did it.


    Well, not quite. Even as they celebrated, Philus had his eye locked on that corner table. Razia had her drink in her hand, but wasn¡¯t drinking it. She was talking animatedly to the redhead, who was laughing at whatever it was. Razia stopped, looking up at something and beaming. A second later, she was blocked by three new people.


    Including the moonkissed asshole. Pure hate welled up in Philus¡¯ chest. His nose was still tender and he had trouble breathing through it when he slept. The only thing that would make this night better would be getting to kill him before they dragged Razia down south. Philus was under no illusions that he could take the freak in a fair fight. But everyone who fought day in and day out knew that there was no such thing as a fair fight.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Markus spat. ¡°There¡¯s the moonkissed. And two other assholes. Well, so much for the plans. She¡¯s not going to be helpless with him around. And once she drinks it he¡¯ll know something is up. Fuck.¡±


    Philus grunted in agreement. If it came to a fight, things weren¡¯t in their favor. Not with the two other guys, though Philus didn¡¯t think much of the short man with the bushy beard or the skinny teenager. They didn¡¯t look especially dangerous, but more people meant more complications. There went the plan, ruined by pure bad luck. ¡°Fuck. I guess this is it, boys,¡± Philus sighed. ¡°This was our last chance.¡±


    Markus patted him on the knee. ¡°This was a good try, brother. Really. I know I¡¯ve been giving you shit about it, but this was some proper planning, and it was close. We¡¯ll go back home and find some other way to make it.¡±


    ¡°Hey, look!¡± Gregor smacked Philus in the shoulder and nodded back towards the table. The old man and the teen were no longer blocking their vision. Razia and her bodyguard stood to the side. Razia handed the moonkissed her drink. He took a big gulp.


    Just like that, Philus was excited again. ¡°Oooh, that¡¯s not part of the plan,¡± he said, grinning with excitement.


    ¡°No,¡± Markus was on the same page as him. ¡°But this could be good too. She¡¯ll be a lot easier to grab if he¡¯s not capable of protecting her.¡±


    ¡°Exactly what I was thinking. Gregor,¡± Philus said, ¡°You can hold her down while we make her drink the rest of it. She¡¯ll drop too and we can trade in her for more money than we¡¯ve ever seen. Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Gregor and Markus crowed.


    The bartender came back to them. ¡°If you¡¯re not buying drinks, then get the fuck out of here.¡± He said it with no particular heat, and Philus was too giddy to be offended.


    ¡°Right, we¡¯re done here anyway,¡± He said. He pushed his way through the crowd and his boys followed. They went and stood out in the empty lot across the street where a man and a woman played music for a small group. They stood out there, watching the door, waiting.


    They didn¡¯t have to wait long. Another three minutes and the train of whores streamed out of the Fighting Beetle, heading east without looking their way. Philus pointed, and they followed at a distance. They kept their hands on their daggers but didn¡¯t draw them yet. This was a busy street. Too busy. Philus frowned. Razia and company were in a decent sized group, and this street was busy. This was going to be ugly if they did it wrong.


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    ¡°We¡¯re going to go in fast and hard,¡± Philus said just loud enough for the others to hear. ¡°Don¡¯t say it,¡± he shot a warning look to Gregor, who promptly closed his mouth. ¡°We need to do this fast enough and be gone by the time they realize what hit them.¡±


    ¡°What about the men they got with them?¡± Markus asked, nodding toward the blonde teenager and the old man, who stood at the back and front respectively.


    ¡°Gregor, take out the kid. Shouldn¡¯t be an issue, right?¡± Philus elbowed Gregor in the side.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be scraping what¡¯s left of him off the ground,¡± said Gregor, baring his teeth in a horrible grin.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll take the old man, I suppose,¡± said Markus, letting out a theatrical sigh. ¡°You just want to see two short men fight, admit it.¡±


    ¡°Guilty,¡± Philus laughed breathlessly. There was no question what his task was. He¡¯d shank the moonkissed and grab Razia. They were so close now. They were lucky, honestly. The bitches talking to each other masked their footsteps and muttered conversation. Maybe the Wanderer was looking out for him that night, blessing his endeavor to get rich quick.


    Far in the front, the moonkissed stood a head taller than the rest of them, even with the way he swayed and staggered down the street. Occasionally he let out a laugh Philus found grating as hell. He said something Philus could barely no make out, and then the whore turned around and saw them.


    His eyes locked on hers. Time slowed to a crawl as the two recognized each other, and realized what was about to happen. One, maybe two seconds that dragged into a joyously teasing eternity. Philus grinned, and let out a sharp whistle. His boys knew what to do from there.


    On either side of Philus, his boys charged. Gregor immediately went for the teen, who turned around just in time to see Gregor¡¯s fist smashing into him. He dropped to the ground and kept going, rolling away. By the time that was over, Demetrius tackled the blocky older man, and the two of them went to the ground, rolling around.


    Philus waited just long enough to see both of these things happening before he attacked. He ran forward, heart pounding with excitement as he went straight for Razia. For some reason, she didn¡¯t look afraid. Startled, sure, but not afraid. Philus found out why when she ducked out of the way and let her bodyguard do the talking for her. The moonkissed may have been drugged out of his mind, but he was on his feet and seemed to realize a fight was breaking out. He pointed vaguely at Philus.


    ¡°Not you again,¡± Quentin said, voice thick and dulled. ¡°I¡¯ve jusst about had enough of your shit.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking the same about you, freak,¡± Philus hissed. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to breathe right since.¡±


    A high pitched scream sounded from behind. Philus chanced looking over his shoulder, and his stomach dropped. The teen was back on his feet with Gregor throwing wide punches with a fist as big as the kid¡¯s face, but the kid was as swift as a snake and bobbed and weaved out of the attacks, finally striking Gregor in the sides after dodging a particularly heavy swing. He wasn¡¯t big, but he struck fast, driving bony knuckles into Gregor¡¯s ribs. Even over the chaos of the brawl, Philus heard Gregor let out a pained oof.


    Gregor wasn¡¯t alone in having trouble. Markus was still on the ground, but he was on the bottom and the older man raised up just enough to get leverage to punch Markus in the face repeatedly, while the short man threw his hands up to do whatever he could to block the blows raining down on him. Philus turned around in time to see the moonkissed swinging at him. Philus barely avoided taking it in the face. All the while, one of the whores was still screaming at the top of her lungs.


    ¡°You made a serious mistake,¡± Razia howled from behind Quentin. Philus scowled at her, but she looked triumphant, not scared. ¡°Get his ass, Quentin!¡± she called.


    No, not this time. Philus drew the dagger from his belt and crouched in a knife fighter¡¯s stance. He didn¡¯t wait for his opponent to do the same. Philus wanted the bastard dead. The moonkissed realized what was happening too late. His senses dulled, he tried to move away from the wild slash but the sharpened glass dug into his arm and across his chest. His hiss of pain was like music to Philus¡¯ ears.


    ¡°Say uncle. Say uncle!¡± The older man roared on top of Markus, driving one more punch into his nose while Markus weakly whimpered. He was never much of a fighter, and apparently his opponent was. The old man seized Markus by the nose and twisted until he howled with pain.


    Gregor¡¯s chest heaved for breath. In the past minute or so of fighting he¡¯d only managed to land a couple good hits on the teenager, who had blood smeared around the corner of his mouth but otherwise was none the worse for wear. Even with Gregor standing in place, fists up defensively, the teen bounced in place like he was ready to go another ten rounds.


    The moonkissed took a step back, looking at his cut up forearms stupidly. He looked back up at Philus and flung his cloak off of him. He went for his own knife, which Philus remembered was real steel and nearly twice the length of the sharpened glass daggers he and the boys carried. Twin lines on his arms near his elbows bled freely, continuing on to his chest. They weren¡¯t deep, but they were a start.


    Philus feinted and Quentin fell for it, dodging an attack that wasn¡¯t coming while Philus dropped the blade into his other hand and slashed again. This time he caught the moonkissed in the side, gouging out a solid line from his side all the way up to his arm. He let out a pained cry and his legs buckled for a second, but Philus already danced away from the expected retaliation.


    The drugs were enough, he realized with rising excitement. This was it. They were fighting in the middle of a busy street with witnesses everywhere, but at bare minimum he was going to earn his pride back by killing the freak who put him into this madness in the first place. Never mind the fact that Philus¡¯ obsession was his own; it was easier to put it all on the moonkissed who was panting and holding his side.


    Gregor let out a triumphant scream as he caught the teen¡¯s fist and squeezed. He pulled and turned with it, spinning until his opponent¡¯s feet were off the ground. A second later he let go and the kid sailed through the air until he collided with his mentor, sending both of them off of Markus. Markus scrambled to his feet. He looked a right ugly mess, but he was still going.


    The slender, dark skinned whore took off away from the fight, further on east. Philus let her go. There was only one of them they cared to keep. Two, if Gregor got his way and they kept the redhead. That wasn¡¯t going to happen. They¡¯d already took too long in subduing the bitch, but there were few things as fun as a proper scrap and his boys had been overdue some fun.


    Razia was at Quentin¡¯s side, whispering in his ear and applying pressure to the wounds at his side. They weren¡¯t going to be fatal, but he was losing blood. Philus didn¡¯t need a clean, decisive win. Just as long as his opponent dropped eventually. The moonkissed swayed on his feet, but those creepy icy eyes were looking a little more focused now.


    ¡°Come with me and I¡¯ll let your pet freak live,¡± Philus lied.


    If looks could kill, Razia would¡¯ve. The look on her face just made Philus grin like a fool. Gregor came up beside Philus, planting his foot on the old man who had been trying to get up¡¯s chest. He shoved and the grizzled boulder of a man rolled along the ground. Markus let out a rough, wheezing laugh at the sight.


    ¡°Demetrius!¡± Quentin said, looking worried for the first time that night. He glared at Gregor, breathing heavily. Then he leapt into action, knife raised and ready to plunge into Philus¡¯ middle.


    Markus dropped to the ground in front of him in a move they¡¯d done a thousand times before. Quentin tripped over Markus, but Philus wasn¡¯t able to get out of the way in time. They crashed to the ground together and something cracked and stabbed into Philus¡¯ ass. He kicked Quentin off of him and reached for his pockets.


    Shards of glass and green liquid covered it. The smell was awful, dizzying, and rising into the night. Before he could help himself, Philus inhaled a good whiff of it and the world went spinny. With Orchrisus Juice, it needed to be mixed into liquids to dilute it. On its own, even the fumes were enough to do the job and now Philus reeked of it.


    Gregor coughed violently as the fumes rose from Philus¡¯ hand to his face. Quentin rolled sideways off of Philus, who was too distracted by just how rocky and sharp the ground suddenly felt to stop him. His limbs were amazingly heavy, like he¡¯d drunk too much.


    ¡°You okay?¡± he heard from a thousand miles above him. When his eyes focused, Markus was looming over him, covering his mouth and nose. He looked like hell. Philus started laughing, pointing with his Juice covered hand at his friend¡¯s face. ¡°Look like you fell down some stairs, brother,¡± he giggled breathlessly.


    ¡°You need to get up. We need to go n-¡± Markus¡¯ eyes widened and he dove to the side.


    Quentin was back on his feet again, holding his knife, and he looked happy. Frighteningly so. Gregor swayed in place but met the moonkissed challenge with a roar. He pulled his dagger and swung wildly. Out of all of them, Gregor was the one who needed a weapon the least. He was big enough and a good enough brawler that going bare handed was good enough most of the time. Here, he was at a disadvantage.


    Even with being drugged, Quentin swayed under Gregor¡¯s arm. Philus watched with odd fascination as the moonkissed plunged the dagger straight into Gregor¡¯s stomach. Gregor stopped, voice dying in his throat. He looked down, eyes wide with surprise. Then the bastard pulled and Gregor¡¯s guts spilled on the ground next to Philus. They were so hot the night steamed. Philus laughed at this, even as anguish clawed at him from underneath the surface.


    ¡°Oh gods, oh no, Gregor,¡± Markus cried from beside them. Gregor fell to his knees. The moonkissed stood in place, panting. Blood dripped from his arms, his side, from his knife. Razia was at his side, helping support his weight when his legs nearly gave out. With one last horrified, confused look, Gregor crashed face first into the dirt. He didn¡¯t get up.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± Quentin panted, voice weak. ¡°You should¡¯ve...Why did you have to do this?¡± he asked, sounding miserable. He fell on the ground as well, Razia calling out his name as the knife fell from his hands. ¡°Why?¡±


    Philus didn¡¯t have an answer. Gregor was dead. Gregor was dead because of him. No, because of Quentin. Because of the murderous moonkissed who couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone. All they wanted was to cash in a bounty. Whores were a dime a dozen, and he couldn¡¯t just let them have this one? It was such bullshit it was almost funny. The world twisted and turned, faster and faster.


    ¡°C¡¯mon Phil, we need to get out of here,¡± Markus whispered, tugging on his hand. His eyes were filled with unshed tears and he still covered his face to avoid the fumes. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here, we need to go now.¡±


    But why get up when the ground had this interesting texture and everything was melty? Philus tried to push himself to a sitting position, but his limbs weren¡¯t working anymore. Maybe it was better to just lay here with Gregor for a while. They couldn¡¯t just leave him there, after all.


    ¡°Fuck, I¡­¡± Markus looked between Philus and the group of men and whores who were staring at them with loathing. He looked up and his eyes widened. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll come back for you later, I promise, just¡­¡± He took off running as fast as his short legs could carry him. Watching him run was too funny.


    But then it was just the two of them. No, Philus thought. Just the one of them now. But not for long. Three helmeted heads filled his vision.


    ¡°Hoooo boy, that stinks,¡± he said. ¡°City Watch. Don¡¯t move.¡± Around him, the other watchmen laughed. Philus laughed along with them until the drug took him under.

 Chapter 28: Good Intentions

    Chapter 28: Good Intentions


    ¡°Walk me through it,¡± said the silver badged Watchman, ¡°one last time.¡± He was a ruddy faced man in his 40¡¯s, perpetually weary looking but he¡¯d been okay enough up until now. His helmet was off and carried under his arm as he made Razia go through the same story for what had to have honestly been the tenth time that night.


    Sure, Razia could¡¯ve complained if she had a mind to. Privately, she took the questioning as a good sign. Maybe they were actually going to listen to her instead of just locking both Quentin and Philus up, never to be seen again. You never knew with the Orchrisus Watch, which way things would go. Sometimes they showed up and protected those in danger, sometimes they held back and only showed up to handle the clean up after a crime had been committed. Sometimes, they just made things worse and there was nothing you could do about it. It was like that in Orchrisus, it was like that back on Nalek, and Razia suspected it was the way the law worked everywhere. She¡¯d take what she could get and not provoke them.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Razia said, forcing a smile on her face. At this point she was beyond exhausted and just wanted for them to go home and lick their wounds. Real ones, in Quentin¡¯s case. ¡°We were at the Fighting Beetle. My friend --¡±


    ¡°The moonkissed,¡± The Watchman supplied with a curl of his upper lip.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± Razia said, trying not to raise her voice too much. ¡°Came in with his friends and I gave him my drink. He drank it and it turns out it was drugged. We left, and then three men followed us and jumped us. Quentin and his friends defended us while these men pulled knives and tried to kill us. One of them died in the fight. It¡¯s really that simple, Sir.¡±


    The Watchman scoffed quietly, but didn¡¯t say anything. He looked over to where Gregor lay on the ground, unblinking eyes staring up into the night sky. His guts were on the ground in a pile next to him. For as gross as it was, it was almost tidy. Razia couldn¡¯t help but look every now and then with sick fascination. The Watch had done nothing to cover him up, or even close his eyes.


    Once the first few had shown up (courtesy of Isa who did not run away to save her own hide, like Razia thought) they wasted no time in getting both Quentin and Philus in shackles, despite the fact that neither of them were in much of a condition to resist. Quentin at least still had some fight in him, apparently. But ever since he killed Gregor, Quentin was mostly silent, staring off into space and still swaying a bit. Not long after, more Watchmen showed up, until there were just under ten of them there, keeping the public at bay while the rest of them were questioned.


    ¡°Alright,¡± the Watchman said, sighing. He pointed over to where the rest of the girls were standing. ¡°Stand over there and wait for me to figure some things out. We¡¯re almost done here and you ladies can get out of my hair.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Razia said, mostly out of habit. She looked past the Watchman where two of his colleagues were questioning Demetrius and Jonas. They pulled all of them apart separately and questioned them, sometimes multiple times. All the while Quentin¡¯s wounds went untreated. Sure, they wiped away the blood and made sure they weren¡¯t likely to be fatal, but apart from that they seemed content to make Quentin wait. No matter how many times Razia or her girls told them what happened, they continued to treat him like he was the cause of the problem.


    ¡°Are they going to let us go soon?¡± Samantha asked in a tiny voice. Razia joined her against the side of a building and threw an arm around her shoulders. Samantha wasn¡¯t a stranger to seeing violence, but being attacked again and seeing a man disemboweled had shaken her.


    ¡°Soon,¡± Razia promised. ¡°How¡¯re you all holding up?¡±


    Around the group of girls, dull sounds of acknowledgement sounded out. They were doing about as well as she expected. Maria wrung her hands together. ¡°Did you know them? The ones who attacked us.¡±


    ¡°Are there more coming?¡± Isa asked sharply. ¡°The entire reason you keep him around is for things to be safer. Tonight wasn¡¯t safe at all. Is this what we can expect going forward?¡±


    Razia bit back her annoyance. ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be any more coming,¡± Razia said. ¡°I¡¯ve run into them a couple of times. They had a grudge against me and now it¡¯s over. This was building up for a while and I should¡¯ve paid more attention to them, but we¡¯re safe. I promise you we¡¯re as safe as it gets in this city.¡±


    Silence. She should¡¯ve expected it. Almost a week of things going swimmingly didn¡¯t mean shit in the grand scheme of things. It didn¡¯t undo years of grabby clients, assaults, pushy pimps and others who sought to exploit them however they could. It gave them just enough of a glimpse into something smoother to make them resent it when the fantasy ended.


    Samantha pulled Razia tighter and squeezed her. She put on a weak smile. ¡°I still trust you.¡±


    Razia¡¯s throat tightened. That meant more to her than Samantha could ever guess. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. To the rest of them she continued, ¡°This is just a momentary hiccup. I¡¯m still looking for a place for us to work at more permanently. We¡¯ve been feeling out places and I think we¡¯re getting a good idea of where we do best. You¡¯re free to stick with me, or leave if you want. I¡¯m not giving up.¡±


    Judging from the guilty expressions she saw, Razia had touched a nerve. Samantha was the first to speak up. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. We¡¯ve been having fun. Tonight was¡­¡± she swallowed. ¡°Not great. But they¡¯ve been better than they were at the Silk Lounge. I haven¡¯t had to give any freebies as a favor to the boss.¡±


    There was a murmur of agreement. ¡°I might have a patron,¡± Maria said, ¡°but until he makes it official I¡¯ll stick with you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out,¡± said Amy, throwing her hands up. ¡°I don¡¯t like the way the Watch is looking at us. They¡¯re looking at us like we¡¯re diseased and tainted too.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®too¡¯?¡± Jenna demanded, turning on her friend with a scowl.


    ¡°You know damned well what she means,¡± Isa said.


    Razia could spot a brewing argument a mile away, and this was going to be an explosive one. She was saved from having to break it up before it began. Demetrius and Jonas walked away and the Watchmen who weren¡¯t guarding the prisoners conferred in the center. She held up a hand for silence and the girls joined her in watching.


    The conversation didn¡¯t last more than a couple of minutes. The silver badged one, the ranking officer among them, did most of the talking while a couple of them seemed increasingly annoyed. One gesticulated wildly at the girls. Silver Badge sighed and nodded. He walked towards them. Razia¡¯s stomach dropped. This wasn¡¯t going to be good.


    ¡°So you ladies can leave,¡± he said, in the tone of a person with a ¡®but¡¯ coming.


    ¡°But?¡± Razia prompted.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got no way to know whether your friend is innocent or not. We¡¯re arresting the both of them. They¡¯ll spend a night or two in our Tower before being sent to court, where an Arbiter will determine their guilt. Honestly though?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Chances are the idiot with the drugs is going to the Mirage for a few years. Your friend will either join him,¡± he said.


    ¡°They can¡¯t!¡± Samantha blurted. ¡°He¡¯ll burn if they send him there!¡±


    Silver Badge shrugged again. ¡°No one cares. They¡¯ll either send him there too, or he¡¯ll be sent to the Colosseum for killing a man. Either way, I wouldn¡¯t expect to see him again. I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, sounding anything but. ¡°Without reliable witnesses, we have to treat them as both in the wrong.¡±


    ¡°Reliable witnesses?¡± Isa said, not bothering to hide her anger. ¡°The fuck do you think we are? We were here. We all saw it. You just spent a fucking hour having us tell you again and again.¡± Some of the other girls voiced their agreements.


    Silver Badge made a face. ¡°Yeah, and if there was a one of you that was reputable, maybe that would matter. The court¡¯s not interested in the word of a bunch of whores.¡±


    ¡°What about them?¡± Razia gestured to Demetrius and Jonas.


    ¡°They were involved in the fight. Their word doesn¡¯t mean much either. Especially when trying to get a friend off for murder. That¡¯s all there is to it,¡± He continued, raising his voice to stamp down a number of protests. ¡°If you don¡¯t like it, maybe check out the courts over the next few days and see if they¡¯re willing to accept your testimonies. As far as I¡¯m concerned, this is done. You¡¯re free to go now.¡±


    He turned away from them, ignoring the half a dozen girls now cursing him out. Two Watchmen dragged Quentin to his feet by the shackles around his wrists. Four of them each took a hold of one of Philus¡¯ limbs and lifted him up to the waiting prisoner carriage. Now that it was over, they wasted no time in loading the prisoners up and locking them inside. Razia¡¯s heart skipped a beat as Quentin disappeared from sight.


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    No, this wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°Go home for tonight,¡± Razia said to the others. ¡°Straight home. I¡¯m going to take care of this. Meet me in Maggie¡¯s Den at sunset two nights from now and we¡¯ll discuss what we¡¯re going to do in the future. If you want to have anything more to do with this.¡±


    Judging from a couple of the faces, not everyone would show up. But that was fine. Out of the thirteen girls who left the Silk Lounge with her, nine of them still showed up in the evenings. Most of them only for a couple of hours and then they were done, but Razia felt she was still doing a decent enough job of keeping them afloat. Even if it was just her, Samantha, and maybe Isa and Maria she¡¯d be fine with it. She had her group, and she wasn¡¯t going to let them down. Not again.


    ¡°Two days, then,¡± Isa said, sighing. She left without looking back, and Amy joined her. Jenna stared after her best frenemy with a pained look on her face, but she didn¡¯t follow.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± Maria promised. She threw her arm around Jenna and led her away, whispering something in her ear. That made Razia feel a bit better, knowing Maria would be looking out for her and maybe helping her stay. She liked Jenna, when she wasn¡¯t caught up in a flirtatious sort of permanent fight with Amy.


    That left Samantha, who wasn¡¯t going anywhere. ¡°What?¡± Samantha asked, a bit of her old spark coming back. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t mean me! I¡¯m staying with you tonight.¡± She put her hands on her hips. In truth, Razia did mean her too, but she didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her so.


    ¡°Thanks Sam,¡± said Razia, looking over to where Demetrius and Jonas stood, waiting for her. ¡°But let me handle this, okay? They¡¯re going to be pissed at me, and I deserve it.¡± Samantha nodded in return.


    Razia walked up to Demetrius, stopping a few feet short. There was no use coming into strangling distance. Not when the stocky man looked like he genuinely wanted to kill her then.


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± he said with bare restrained anger. ¡°You got Quentin killed. Not through his job or anything we could predict, but by bailing your ass out of trouble. You proud of that, bitch?¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°No,¡± Razia said, ¡°I¡¯m really not. But I¡¯m also not going to let him die. I¡¯m going to get him out of this.¡±


    Her response just made him even madder. ¡°How? How?¡± Demetrius threw his hands into the air and Razia flinched, honestly believing that he¡¯d go so far as to hit her. He didn¡¯t, but he was still on a tear. ¡°You gonna break into the Watchtower and let him out? You gonna go up there and shake your ass and see if one of them will trade his life for a good fuck? What¡¯ve you got?¡±


    Razia forced herself to stand up straight and still, keeping her eyes on Demetrius. From behind her, Samantha came up and linked her arm in Razia¡¯s for support. Jonas also came up, though for his part it looked like he was ready to try to restrain Demetrius if things got more heated. ¡°I¡¯ve got the Supreme Arbiter. Or rather, Quentin does. He¡¯ll make sure Quentin gets out safely.¡±


    Demetrius stared at her as if she suddenly grew a second head. ¡°Just like that? Gonna stroll up to the most powerful man in the courts and say, ¡®hey, could you let my stooge out? He got arrested trying to save my worthless ass¡¯.¡±


    A lot of Demetrius¡¯ anger was justified, and Razia could hardly blame him. But that didn¡¯t mean she was willing to just take whatever shit he gave her. She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. They were almost the same height. Yelling at someone without having to look up at them was a rare treat. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m gonna fucking do,¡± Razia snapped.


    ¡°I don¡¯t hear any solutions from you. You wanna be mad? Fine, be mad at me. Hell, I¡¯m mad at me. But I actually plan on doing something about it. Can you say the same, Demetrius? What lengths are you willing to go to to save your friend? Huh?¡± Razia jabbed a finger into Demetrius¡¯ chest.


    Some of the rage left his face, replaced by embarrassment. ¡°What¡¯s someone like me gonna do? I¡¯ve been working at the Colosseum for thirty years now. I¡¯ve worked with...I¡¯ve known Quentin for fifteen,¡± he amended, eyeing Samantha, who looked away. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what happens to people the courts don¡¯t give a fuck about. About all I can figure is hope you can get away with a bribe to say goodbye.


    ¡°I¡¯ve met the Arbiter. He¡¯s been around the Colosseum a bunch lately, making sure things are...Coming together. He¡¯s a professional. There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll risk his job over this. Not when a replacement is already waiting.¡± Demetrius looked down, jaw tight with frustration. ¡°Besides, do you even know where he lives?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia admitted. ¡°I figured either you would know or I¡¯d figure it out and go straight there. Or maybe go to the courts and see if I can get in that way.¡±


    ¡°Figures,¡± Demetrius said, sighing. ¡°You talk a big game, but you¡¯re not gonna get it done.¡±


    ¡°I know where he lives,¡± Jonas piped up. Every face turned to look at him. He shrunk in place from the sudden attention, but then straightened up and repeated himself. ¡°I know where the Supreme Arbiter lives.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Demetrius gaped.


    ¡°Where?¡± Razia turned from Demetrius entirely. ¡°Give me his address and I¡¯ll get Quentin out. I swear I will.¡±


    Jonas¡¯ eyes flitted between the two of them and his mouth opened wordlessly as he tried to figure out which question to answer first. ¡°He was taking a tour of the facilities, checking out our security after that guard was killed. Him and Amicus. Amicus was trying to get him to come over for a party, and the Arbiter was trying to get out of it. He asked the Arbiter where he lives and he said¡­¡±


    Jonas screwed up his face in concentration. ¡°I think it was 242 Starry Heights. That one neighborhood that¡¯s down near the river and gated. Still on the north side, I think. Can you really get him out?¡±


    Razia nodded. ¡°I can try. If I don¡¯t succeed, then I¡¯ll make the Arbiter¡¯s life miserable.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t succeed,¡± said Demetrius, ¡°I swear on my life you¡¯ll die if Quentin does. For ten years now he¡¯s gotten by through good training, safe living, and predictability. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to sit by and let him die for mediocre pussy.¡±


    Razia nearly burst out laughing. Instead she put on a look of pure fury and said, ¡°How dare you? I happen to be excellent pussy. And I¡¯m not going to let him die. Maybe he¡¯s lasted this long through being safe and predictable, but he hasn¡¯t been happy. Does that matter at all to you, or just that he¡¯s still breathing?¡±


    Demetrius looked taken aback. ¡°Of course I care if he¡¯s happy. What does --¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been working with him, every day,¡± Razia continued, taking a step forward. Demetrius took half a step back. ¡°Doing everything I can to show him a different life. Maybe a better life, maybe not. I¡¯m trying to make that morose bastard happy. Whatever you make think of me, I¡¯ve got nothing but good intentions towards Quentin. I¡¯m at least trying to get him out of the rut he¡¯s stuck in. What¡¯re you doing?¡±


    Demetrius didn¡¯t answer. The four of them stood there in the middle of the street at night with people walking around them, giving them plenty of space. Jonas looked like he wanted to talk, but he stayed behind Demetrius for the moment. To Razia¡¯s surprise, it was Samantha who spoke up.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know Mr. Q well,¡± she started hesitantly. Razia put her hand on Samantha¡¯s arm and squeezed it reassuringly. Samantha smiled and continued slowly, ¡°but in the short time I¡¯ve known him, he¡¯s seemed pretty okay with things going on. He¡¯s been laughing and smiling when we¡¯re out at night, and even seems to be happy about the fight he got into over Isa. He¡¯s talked about it a few times, like he couldn¡¯t believe it happened, but he was laughing.¡±


    Samantha looked between Demetrius and Jonas. She was taller than one and heavier than the other, but she still peeked out from behind Razia like she was afraid of them. ¡°When I first met him, he didn¡¯t seem like the kind of person to laugh much. And he¡¯s been really kind to all of us. It¡¯s...It¡¯s been nice.¡± She stopped there, the words and courage drying up.


    There was silence again. It went on long enough that Razia was about to say goodbye and leave Demetrius to his anger and frustration, but he spoke up again. when he spoke this time, the anger was gone and he sounded thoughtful instead. ¡°What is it you want with Quentin, anyway? What¡¯s he getting out of this? What¡¯re you getting out of this?¡±


    Razia spread her hands out. ¡°He¡¯s letting me live with him. I get a place to stay and I show him parts of life he¡¯s been missing. All I want for him is to know that I made a difference and maybe opened his eyes a bit. Either he stays on his current track but knows what else he could be enjoying¡­¡± Razia tilted her head, eyes shooting to Samantha to indicate that she didn¡¯t know Quentin was the Butcher. ¡°Or I show him a better way, and he leaves and does something else.¡±


    That threw Demetrius for a loop. ¡°You want him to...stop?¡± he asked.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°No, I want him to want to stop. I want him to want something instead of just going along with what he¡¯s got until it kills him. Is that so bad?¡±


    She could immediately see that it wasn¡¯t. Demetrius bowed his head in thought. After a few seconds he swallowed hard and shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°I guess it isn¡¯t. So sure, go for it. Try. And I guess be careful. When the Arbiter knows that you know, he might just throw you in prison for it. It¡¯s happened before.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take,¡± said Razia, fully sure she could slip out of any trouble coming her way. She had thus far.


    Jonas put a hand on Demetrius¡¯ shoulder. He nodded to Razia. ¡°Then get him out. I don¡¯t know him too well, but he¡¯s a good sparring buddy. And I really wanna see him perform on the Blooming.¡±


    Demetrius elbowed the kid in the side, jerking his head towards Samantha who looked around wide eyed and confused. They were lucky, Razia thought, that Samantha wasn¡¯t quite sharp enough to make all the connections. It was obvious there was something going on, but it wasn¡¯t clicking with her. ¡°Then fine,¡± Demetrius grumbled. ¡°But my previous statement stands. If he dies, so do you.¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± said Razia.


    Without another word Demetrius turned around and left. Jonas followed after him, looking over his shoulder once. Razia stayed there, taking a deep breath and mentally going over everything she would need to get things to come together. 242 Starry Heights, near the river. Razia could work with that. The higher end the place, the easier it was for her to sleaze her way in.


    ¡°Razia?¡± Samantha asked in the voice of a child scared to ask a question.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Who is Quentin, exactly?¡± she asked, staring at the shrinking forms of the gladiators down the street.


    ¡°Our friend,¡± said Razia. ¡°That¡¯s the only thing that matters.¡±

 Chapter 29: Heart to Heart

    Chapter 29: Heart to Heart


    It wasn¡¯t the first time Quentin woke up from the pain and, gods willing, it wouldn¡¯t be the last. At first he was annoyed. In a matter of seconds it was like floating in pleasant blackness, getting some much needed rest, and then the first aches and pains roused him. It was the pounding head that pulled Quentin from his slumber, though the burning of his various cuts were what kept him awake. He stirred, letting out a groan as he opened bleary eyes.


    Bars in front of him, and to the sides. He had just enough space to lay down lengthwise in the cell, and maybe half as much width. He was laying on old, smelly straw, but it kept him off the cold stone floor. Quentin wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up. There were two buckets in front of the cell door. One was full of water, the other was empty. He grabbed the empty one and turned towards the wall.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t any privacy in here, sweetheart,¡± a voice called from his left. Two cells over was a ratty looking young man laying in his own straw, watching Quentin try and fail to piss.


    Quentin turned with his back to the other prisoner and let it out haltingly, feeling eyes on him the entire time. So far, it was the worst part of being arrested. No sooner had the thought crossed him before the last night came back to him all at once. His throat tightened. Quentin shook himself empty and replaced the bucket, grabbing the water and splashing his face with it.


    ¡°Come on luv, don¡¯t hide. Aww, I was enjoying the show,¡± the young man continued to call out to him. Who knew how long he¡¯d been in there. He was probably bored out of his tears and Quentin was the closest thing to something interesting he¡¯d seen in a while.


    ¡°Show¡¯s over,¡± Quentin said, sitting back down and leaning against the wall. He checked over his arms. There were some light bandages there that were already soaked through with blood, but at least they hadn¡¯t just thrown him into this piss smelling cage to die of an infection.


    ¡°Come on. Just a little bit of skin for a dead man? I wanna know if your cock¡¯s white too.¡± The man waggled his eyebrows.


    Quentin¡¯s face heated up. That was far from the first time someone had said that to him. It was hard to avoid the anger, but anger was pointless right now. He sighed and closed his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s pink, actually. And maybe a bit purplish at times. Same as yours, I¡¯d wager.¡±


    There was silence, followed by snickering. ¡°You¡¯d lose that wager. Mine¡¯s bigger.¡±


    Quentin chuckled. ¡°Of course it is.¡± Then he felt the blade dig into the big man¡¯s guts and spill them out onto the ground. The image was gone in a second, but the horror lingered. ¡°How long have I been in here?¡±


    ¡°How the fuck should I know? Do I look like I keep track of all the comings and goings of this charming establishment?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Right. Been here since ¡®bout ten last night.¡± There was a brief shuffling sound, and Quentin opened his eyes to find the other prisoner had shifted closer to the bars. With one cell between them, they were maybe four feet apart.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Quentin. He had no clue what else to say. It was still a shock, waking up in the local Watchtower¡¯s basement cut up all to hell and having killed a man on the streets. Right in front of everyone. Gods, the girls had seen him fight for them before. They¡¯d never seen him eviscerate a man. Razia had never seen it before.


    Thinking of her hurt and made him unbelievably angry at the same time. She was lucky, he decided. Lucky he was there when those three assholes showed up, and lucky that they were apart so he couldn¡¯t chew her out over keeping his new reputation from him. If he¡¯d known...What? Would he really have stopped going out and spending time with his new friends? Quentin frowned.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Peter,¡± the man said. ¡°In for some petty thievery. Okay, a lot of petty thievery. You?¡±


    ¡°Quentin,¡± he grunted. ¡°Murder, I think.¡±


    Peter let out a long, exaggerated breath. ¡°Oof. You just had to one up me, huh? Bastard.¡±


    ¡°Well, if I could take it back I would,¡± said Quentin. Would he? That man (Gregor, if memory served), had been trying to kill him. Which was fine. That was just another day for him, but he and his friends had been after Razia. It wasn¡¯t like he could just let her go. She may have been a slippery, two faced bitch at times but she was his friend.


    ¡°Ahh, so we have a remorseful killer on our hands,¡± Peter said, nodding with understanding. ¡°Nevermind, not one upped at all. You¡¯re probably the only remorseful one in here. See that fat fuck over there?¡± He pointed, and Quentin followed his finger to Peter¡¯s other side, where a large man was sleeping on his side.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°In here for killing neighborhood pets. Now, I know what you¡¯re thinking,¡± Peter said, a crooked grin appearing on his face. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad, right? He was eating them. When they caught him, they found enough dunewalla bones to make a godsdamned dragon. Can you believe that?¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t care. Not much, at least. In spite of himself he said, ¡°Huh. Really?¡±


    Peter grinned. ¡°Naw, I¡¯ve got no idea what he¡¯s in for. But he looks the type.¡± And he burst out laughing again.


    This time Quentin joined him with a weary chuckle and a crooked smile. It was surprisingly difficult to brood and hate himself with Peter¡¯s chatter. Both of those things were important to him. No one else would give two shits for a dead gang member, or that Quentin killed him. No one was going to feel as much about it as Quentin was.


    ¡°You¡¯re not much of a talker, are you Quentin?¡± Peter asked. Quentin shook his head no. ¡°That¡¯s alright. I¡¯m sure I can talk enough for the two of us. At least until they drag our asses off to the Colosseum.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s first thought was how difficult it would be to execute himself. Going out into the ring and slitting his own throat would sure be a new show for them. At the moment, it sounded appealing. He¡¯d killed a man, and that¡¯s what they did to the killers they caught. Then the rest of his brain caught up with him. ¡°They¡¯re going to kill you over petty thievery?¡±


    ¡°A lot of petty thievery,¡± Peter corrected cheerfully. ¡°At one point I may or may not have stolen a copper¡¯s beetle cart. To be fair, I did give it back. Or they took it back before too long, at least. Was just a bit of fun, but they got offended. Said I¡¯d had enough chances, and they needed more sacrificial lambs for the Blooming anyway. Bleeeeeh,¡± Peter bleated.


    With growing horror, Quentin understood. Thieves sometimes got put to death, but most of the time they either did hard labor or spent a couple years as a slave, working off their debt. The only thieves he regularly put to death were those who stole ridiculous amounts from old, wealthy families. They were really going to have him kill Peter just to add to the Blooming¡¯s quota. No wonder the man, barely more than a kid, really, seemed cracked.


    Which meant that the Watch was looking to do the same to him. It was almost enough to make him laugh too. Quentin could just imagine Amicus¡¯ face when he found out his star performer had been arrested for murder. He¡¯d throw a fucking party and then have Quentin¡¯s replacement do the deed. Well, Quentin amended with a snort, he¡¯d try.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Quentin said, and he meant it. He offered Peter a sad smile. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth I don¡¯t think you deserve to die for that. You probably deserve a good beating or two, but not death.¡±


    ¡°Aw, d¡¯you mean it?¡± Peter clutched at his chest dramatically. ¡°Thanks Quentin. That means a lot, coming from a bonafide murderer. But at least you¡¯ll be right there with me. That¡¯s why I¡¯m making friends now,¡± he added in a stage whisper. ¡°They do this every year. If we work together, we might be able to take the Butcher down.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Quentin raised an eyebrow. ¡°How do you plan on doing that?¡±


    ¡°Easy. Whichever of us goes up first, we try to wound him. Just a cut or two, right? Maybe that¡¯s all we¡¯ll get to do before he, y¡¯know.¡± Peter drew his thumb across his throat and clicked. ¡°If enough wounds add up, maybe one of us will get lucky.¡±


    That made Quentin smile. ¡°I like that plan,¡± he said. ¡°Funny enough, that¡¯s how the Butcher got his nickname. Did you know that?¡±


    Peter¡¯s eyes lit up in delight. ¡°I did not!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. He wouldn¡¯t kill them right away. He¡¯d cut them a few times and let them start to get dizzy from the blood loss. His first win, it wasn¡¯t a clean one. The man bled out on the sand while the Butcher stood there and watched.¡± Honestly, it wasn¡¯t something Quentin was proud of. He¡¯d been about the same age as Peter there, and was scared out of his mind. It was his first match, almost exactly ten years ago. The Blooming was the anniversary.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying,¡± Peter said, ¡°is that he¡¯s a sadistic motherfucker and plays with his food? Maybe we should think up a new plan.¡± And then he fell silent for the first time since Quentin woke up, seemingly lost in thought.


    That was fine. Quentin had plenty to think about on his own. Or to avoid thinking about, in Razia¡¯s case. So much of the night before was a blur, but he remembered her face when that obnoxious bastard Georgie came up to them and Quentin realized what he was becoming. What Razia was setting up for him. It wasn¡¯t fear, exactly. Quentin was used to fear.


    It was hope. There they were, about to get into another of their arguments. Quentin had a reason to be upset, and Razia, damn her, was going to dance circles around his anger and point out exactly why her idea was a good one. Things went blurry right after that, but it was the hope Quentin couldn¡¯t forget.


    ¡®I was going to tell you, I promise.¡¯ she¡¯d said. When he played it in his head over and over again, it didn¡¯t sound like an excuse. It sounded like a plan, interrupted before it could see fruition. Razia said she hadn¡¯t planned on any of it, but she saw an opportunity brewing. An opportunity in him, or because of him? That was the part Quentin couldn¡¯t quite get over. The real question was whether or not she was just using him. Whether or not she was actually his friend, or if he was just convenient.


    It hurt to think of that, so Quentin didn¡¯t. He went back to other painful thoughts, like the way that Gregor froze when the knife entered his stomach, and the way he dropped to his knees when the knife came out. Those weren¡¯t much more comforting, but thinking of that was a pain Quentin deserved. Drugged or not, it was his fault for not finding a way to drop the bastard nonlethally.


    Quentin knew it was stupid. He was drugged, and not in control of himself. Not all the way. He remembered things as they happened, but it was like remembering through a haze. In his memories he was loose and laughing, enjoying himself. Even when the fighting broke out. That much tracked. Quentin had an unfortunate love of fighting, even as he hated what came after the fight. That love is what made it his fault, even if everyone else were to forgive him.


    Two cells over, the occupant stirred with a long, low moan. Quentin looked up from his brooding and his insides froze. There was the bastard¡¯s leader. Philus, he thought he heard one of them say. At least Quentin wasn¡¯t in here alone, but that sick feeling only deepened. It wouldn¡¯t be long before Philus looked up and saw him and his memories would come flooding back too.


    He watched Philus in silence as he dragged himself off the floor, blinking stupidly as the drugs still affected wracked his body. At least he wasn¡¯t laughing like an idiot anymore. Philus dragged himself across the ground and all but buried his face in his own bucket full of water. He drank greedily from it, not stopping until he was out of breath and gasping for air. Then he sat up and looked around. Before too long, his eyes stopped on Quentin.


    ¡°You,¡± he seethed in a wet, raspy voice. ¡°You fucking monster.¡±


    ¡°Oy, that¡¯s my good friend Quentin,¡± Peter called from his cell. ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Monster to you.¡± he flashed Quentin two thumbs up.


    Quentin cleared his throat and said the first thing to come to mind. ¡°Me. Hi. I¡¯m sorry for your friend.¡±


    There was no right way to say it or approach the topic, but even then Quentin knew he chose an especially wrong way to go about it. Philus got to his feet and gripped the bars tight. His entire body shook with rage. ¡°You killed Gregor.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Oh shit, this is juicy,¡± said Peter, eyes widening.


    ¡°He was trying to kill me first,¡± Quentin countered. ¡°You were trying to kill me. What else was I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Just give us the fucking whore and walk away!¡± Philus screamed hoarsely. ¡°That¡¯s all you had to do. But no, you keep sticking your fucking nose in where it doesn¡¯t belong and now Gregor is dead because of you. I hate you. I fucking hate you so much.¡±


    Quentin closed his eyes and lay back against the cell wall. ¡°That makes two of us,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°I still like you,¡± Peter supplied helpfully.


    Down the long, thin corridor of cells, the door to the rest of the Watchtower opened and two officers came through. They went straight for Philus and drew their clubs. ¡°Keep it down in there, scum. This is your one and only warning. If you scream or cry or fight with the other pieces of shit in here, we¡¯ll start with your fingers.¡±


    He slammed the wood against the bars, and Philus flinched away, falling on his ass. He turned that look of pure hate towards the coppers and quickly paid the price for it. Without needing to confer, one of them opened the cell while the other came in and brought the club down on Philus¡¯ head. Philus kicked at him, probably without even meaning to, and that just earned him a second, and a third club until he was on the floor, head bleeding and eyes dazed.


    The coppers left his cell and closed it, turning towards Quentin and Peter. Quentin dropped his eyes to their feet, knowing what they wanted from him. It wasn¡¯t respect. Bastards who became the kind of coppers to bully prisoners wanted submission. Even Peter kept his mouth shut the moment they walked in there, and Quentin would¡¯ve put money down on him being mouthy during the entirety of his arrest.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± the copper said, laughing and patting his round belly. ¡°At least one of you¡¯s going to the Colosseum. No one¡¯s gonna ask questions if you show up half dead already. I don¡¯t wanna hear a peep out of any of you cunts. That clear?¡±


    Quentin nodded, keeping his eyes at ground level.


    ¡°Peep,¡± peeped Peter.


    Silence, then a sigh. ¡°We thought you learned your lesson last time, Pete.¡± They walked past Quentin¡¯s cell. They opened Peter¡¯s and gave him a taste of what they gave Philus. The young man didn¡¯t fight back, didn¡¯t do much more than cover his head and take the beating on his arms instead. The bastards hitting him didn¡¯t seem to care so long as he got beat down.


    Satisfied, the more violent of the two hacked and spat on Peter before locking the cell back up. They walked out slowly, drawing their clubs along the bars and letting the sounds of the thunks serve as a warning or a promise to the prisoners. When they finally left, the silence that followed remained heavy with their presence.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Quentin said to Peter, craning his head to get a better look. Peter let out a pitiful groan. He was bruised all up and down his arms and face, but at least he wasn¡¯t bleeding like Philus was. He¡¯d taken a bad couple of hits to the head and his eyebrow was bleeding profusely. ¡°What about you, Philus? You still with us?¡±


    Philus haltingly pushed himself into a sitting position. His eyes roamed, never sticking to one thing for very long. ¡°The fuck you care?¡± He said with a bit of a slur.


    It was a good question. The fuck did Quentin care? If things had turned out differently last night, Philus would be the one who was dead and not Gregor. Or maybe the short one, Markus. The three of them had been hunting Razia down for weeks now. By all rights, Quentin should¡¯ve hated them or been glad that their hunt was over. But he wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Look,¡± said Quention. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly like you and I don¡¯t want anything to do with you. But that doesn¡¯t mean I want anything bad to happen to you. Maybe I should. You three tried to mug us, and then you tried to turn Razia in for a bounty. That¡¯s a shitty thing to do to people, but this is Orchrisus. I¡¯ve come to expect that out of people. Mostly, I just want you to leave us alone.


    ¡°So I really am sorry about Gregor. If you three hadn¡¯t come after us, this wouldn¡¯t have happened. I may have killed him, but your insistence on coming after us is what got him killed.¡± Saying that didn¡¯t end the guilt, even as Quentin recognized the words as truth. ¡°I was just the knife, you were the one who did the stabbing.¡±


    For nearly a minute, no one spoke. Not even Peter, who had sat back up and looked like the mirth had been beaten out of him. Philus stared at him, glared even, but said nothing until eventually he closed his eyes. A couple of tears trailed out from the corners. Quentin looked away from him.


    ¡°This was going to make us,¡± Philus said in a thick voice. ¡°We were gonna be somebodies after this. Do you have any idea how much money they¡¯re offering for that whore? We were gonna throw a big party, get noticed, get some real weapons and maybe do a real job or two.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Quentin, not unkindly, ¡°but you picked the wrong person to go after. I¡¯m sorry it happened, but this is your fault.¡± He could¡¯ve said more, but it would¡¯ve been pointless. Words weren¡¯t Quentin¡¯s strength. Nothing he could say could convey how much he wished things had turned out different. ¡°Have you ever killed anyone before?¡± he found himself asking.


    Philus sniffed and wiped blood and tears out of his eyes. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Of course I have. Who hasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t,¡± Peter said weakly. They both ignored him.


    In that second, Quentin appreciated the fine line Razia seemed to walk between truth and lies. She told him on more than one occasion that she lied a lot, but the lies were a way to shape and display the truth better. He hadn¡¯t really understood what she meant up until now. ¡°I hadn¡¯t,¡± Quentin said, ¡°not like that. Not in my personal life.¡±


    Philus¡¯ eyes managed to focus on him. There was confusion, realization, disbelief, and then loathing, back to back. ¡°Gregor was the first person you killed on your own, and now you¡¯re sorry, yeah?¡±


    Quentin nodded.


    ¡°Fuck you, freak. What does it matter when or how you killed before? You think that¡¯s gonna make me feel better? Gonna make Gregor feel better? Right now he¡¯s probably being dipped in fire by the Darkstar for the shit we did. You think knowing it was your first time will make his atonement any better?¡± His voice rose as he spoke until he was all but shouting.


    Quentin clenched his teeth. Every point driven home was like a fist to his face. No, he supposed it didn¡¯t matter if Gregor was the first person outside of the Colosseum he¡¯d killed. At the end of the day, Quentin was a killer, and it wasn¡¯t fair of him to suddenly start caring or showing remorse now. For fuck¡¯s sakes if he somehow got out of here, he was going to have to put down Peter, and maybe Phil anyway.


    The door to the holding cells opened again. The same two officers stormed down the corridor. Peter whimpered and balled up as they got closer. Philus scrambled to put as much distance between him and the front of his cell as he could. He needn¡¯t have bothered. They stopped in front of Quentin¡¯s cell.


    ¡°On your feet, prisoner,¡± the fat guard barked.


    Quentin obeyed, heart pounding as he looked between Phil and Peter. Why him? That was a stupid question. With everything else going on, why not him? Quentin grimaced and said, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    The cop grinned a nasty grin. ¡°Your fate¡¯s been decided. It¡¯s time to go.¡±

 Chapter 30: Connected

    Chapter 30: Connected


    It was almost funny how similar the Arbiter¡¯s home was to Quentin¡¯s. They both lived in private squares in the city for rich people, but even among the rich there were different levels of wealthy. Quentin¡¯s area was for upper middle class people, those with enough money to have personal staff. Supreme Arbiter Omar Faroukh¡¯s home was wealthy enough to require it.


    Razia found it hard not to gawk at the size of the place. Homes that large didn¡¯t belong in the middle of crowded cities, she decided. There was such a thing as too big, and this was it. But she wasn¡¯t there to judge a man over his opulence. No, she was going to beg that same man to use his power and opulence to bail her friend out of trouble.


    She took a deep breath and went over everything in her mind again. She was all dressed and made up to be as beautiful as possible, and to leave no doubt that she was meant to be seen. That was important for more than just sex appeal. If she¡¯d walked up to a house like that looking like she was ready for a bit of skullduggery, they wouldn¡¯t actually see her so much as a person shaped void in the world. A void that wasn¡¯t welcome.


    Now, wearing a tight yellow dress with a flower behind her ear, standing out in the open and staring at the door? She was begging to be seen, and the longer she stood there, the more curiosity would build up. That¡¯s all Razia needed, for them to be more curious than they were dismissive. That¡¯d get her foot in the door. After that?


    No clue. Razia had very little idea of what kind of man Omar was, other than generally pleasant and serene. Quentin had told her that much. He wasn¡¯t too forthcoming with most of the details around the Savant attack other than to say that he saved the man¡¯s life. That had to be worth something to the Arbiter. Hopefully enough to get him to abuse a bit of power for their sakes.


    The front door opened, and out walked a well dressed slave. So well dressed in nice, colorful silks with jewels adorning the chains around her throat that Razia wondered if she should have perhaps worn more jewelry. The woman was middle aged and had far more presence and dignity than any other slave Razia had seen. ¡°What is it you want, Miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Razia,¡± she said, introducing herself with a polite curtsy. ¡°I¡¯ve been sent to the Arbiter by one of his employees.¡±


    The woman gave her an appraising look. ¡°I doubt that,¡± she said.


    Razia shook her head, smiling pleasantly. ¡°I mean it. One of Omar¡¯s employees needs his help, so he sent me to speak to him.¡±


    The woman¡¯s expression turned ugly. ¡°That¡¯s Supreme Arbiter Faroukh to you. Not Omar. You can¡¯t honestly expect me to believe that one of the Arbiter¡¯s employees would be so bold as to send a painted woman to him.¡±


    Razia let out a delighted chuckle. ¡°Rich, powerful men love being represented by beautiful women, don¡¯t they?¡± She nodded towards the woman. ¡°Miss¡­?¡± she echoed, smile widening.


    The corner of the woman¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Veritte,¡± she said. ¡°Alright. What rich and powerful man sent a beautiful woman in his stead?¡±


    ¡°Before I tell you,¡± said Razia, unable to help herself to playing a little, ¡°let¡¯s make a little wager, between us girls.¡±


    ¡°Gambling is a disgusting habit, utterly beneath me,¡± Veritte said. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    Razia laughed with delight. ¡°I tell you his name and we go in together. If your master doesn¡¯t recognize or acknowledge the name, I pay you five castura and you get to throw me out.¡±


    Veritte nodded approvingly. ¡°And you get your foot in the door and a chance to speak with the Arbiter. Or attempt to kill him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, exact- wait, what?¡± Razia blinked.


    Veritte smiled, and it was nasty again. ¡°We¡¯ve been warned about attempts on the Arbiter¡¯s life. There¡¯s already been two that we know of. I have no clue who you are, and I won¡¯t risk it.¡±


    Panic gripped her. ¡°Quentin Quintius,¡± she blurted. ¡°That¡¯s the name of his employee. It¡¯s a life or death situation and the Arbiter will want to know about it. I¡¯ll wait here if I have to, just please¡­¡± she trailed off, biting her lip.


    Veritte stared her down an uncomfortably long time, as if she could bore a hole right through her and get inside her head if she tried hard enough. Pursing her lips, she sighed. ¡°Wait here.¡± She disappeared back inside.


    Razia fought to control her breathing, keeping it steady in and out. Demetrius had been entirely right when he blamed her for Quentin¡¯s predicament. Now that she was here at Faroukh¡¯s massive, expensive, well guarded home she faced the realization that she could actually fail. If she did, would Quentin be sentenced to death just like that? Or would someone in the system see who he was and bail him out?


    The longer she stood outside, the more her doubts grew into hideous whispering monsters, filling her thoughts with every bad case scenario imaginable. And it would be all her fault. That¡¯s what she¡¯d get for running away from her problems. Again. Quentin would pay for it and she¡¯d keep running, causing more problems where she went. Ugh.


    Razia rubbed at her eyes, not caring if she smeared her makeup. The Too Beautiful To Turn Away Approach didn¡¯t work when heightened security was in play. Having a prissy, prudish house slave barring the door didn¡¯t help matters either. Razia was about to lose her patience and go up to the door when Veritte came back out, her face a mask.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite sure you said Quentin Quintius?¡± she asked in a tone that hoped she was wrong.


    ¡°Yes. Quite sure.¡±


    Veritte bowed her head and gestured for Razia to enter. Razia did, fighting the urge to say I told you so. The moment she stepped through the door, two guards collapsed on her, grabbing her wrists and pulling them up above her head.


    ¡°Hey, what the fuck are you --¡±


    ¡°Stop fighting, Miss Razia,¡± Veritte said. ¡°You¡¯re being permitted to enter, but you will be searched and any weapons confiscated.¡±


    Razia forced herself to relax. The two men holding her weren¡¯t being especially rough or rude, but no one liked being manhandled and told what to do. Especially not when surprised. She spread her legs and steeled herself while the one who didn¡¯t hold her arms up patted her down. He did a particularly thorough job.


    ¡°Hey, watch it or I¡¯ll have to charge you,¡± Razia snapped. The guard pulled out a long, thin stiletto from her thigh. He held it up as if to say, ¡®and what¡¯s this?¡¯ He stepped away and dropped the knife down on a desk by the door.


    ¡°You can have that back on your way out,¡± Veritte said sweetly. The guards released Razia, and Veritte motioned for her to follow.


    The Arbiter¡¯s house was not just larger, it actually looked lived in. As Razia craned her head this way and that to take in all of the paintings, mosaics, and sculptures throughout the open reaches of the home, she resolved to beg Quentin to do something about his own. Anything to make it less empty and depressing. Big was nice, but the Arbiter¡¯s home was, above all else, surprisingly warm.


    She was led through a lavish foyer and an extravagant audience room all the way to the Arbiter¡¯s personal office, not far from the skylight. His pool had live fish in it. The Arbiter himself was a thin, distinguished looking older man. He looked like the kind of upper class gentleman Razia would attach herself to when not slumming it with friends for fun. He stood from his desk and nodded respectfully to her.


    ¡°Do you mean me any harm?¡± He asked at once in an even, agreeable voice.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°Are you here on behalf of anyone who means me harm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of Quentin Quintius,¡± she said, pausing after. That felt weird. That¡¯s not how she would¡¯ve normally answered it, was it? She shook her head. ¡°He¡¯s in danger and needs your help.¡±


    The Arbiter motioned for her to sit across from him and took his own seat. He ran his hand over his scalp, a motion Razia was very much used to doing herself. ¡°I take it,¡± he said sighing, ¡°that this means you know who Quentin is. What he is. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Razia Rashid, daughter of Trade Prince Malachi Rashid of Nalek, and¡­¡± Razia forced her mouth shut. Her heart pounded. Something was wrong. She didn¡¯t know what, but she didn¡¯t like it. ¡°I know who Quentin is, yes,¡± she said haltingly, ¡°more importantly, I know what kind of danger he¡¯s in. He¡¯s been accused of murder and they¡¯re going to rush him through the courts.¡±


    The Arbiter¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Razia told him, starting from meeting Quentin to him warning her about the muggers to finding them outside Quentin¡¯s house, and finally to them showing up and trying to kidnap her again. The arbiter stayed silent the entire time she spoke, watching her intently. When she finished, he didn¡¯t immediately respond. When he did, it wasn¡¯t what she expected. ¡°So Quentin did kill a man?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Was it murder?¡±


    ¡°Gods no! It was defense,¡± Razia swallowed a lump of guilt down. ¡°He was defending me and he was drugged. Even when Juiced up he was still able to fight and keep me alive.¡±


    The Arbiter nodded thoughtfully. He put his hands together, fingers interlocking while he thought about it. ¡°Then you would have me render my personal judgment of his innocence and demand his release? Do you think it¡¯s that simple?¡±


    It was a simple question, with no malice or mockery in there, but it still drove Razia nuts. ¡°I think it¡¯s as simple as Quentin saved your life, and you are honorbound to return the favor.¡± Razia let go of the arms of the chair, which she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been clutching until her hands hurt. ¡°I think that if you want that Savant dead and your emperor to not be publicly humiliated, you¡¯re going to want him fighting.¡±


    The Arbiter pursed his lips. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± he admitted. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest with you, Ms. Rashid. I don¡¯t like doing it. Not,¡± he added quickly, seeing the look on her face, ¡°that I am opposed to helping Quentin. He¡¯s been an exemplary worker and he has, as you said, saved my life. No, I am honorbound to help him.


    ¡°But I do not like toying with the law or bending it on a whim. Nor do I really approve of you knowing Quentin¡¯s identity. We tolerate family knowing, as it is often a necessary evil. But you are a security risk.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia, rolling her eyes. ¡°A security risk that came all this way and put up with your charming housekeeper in order to make sure he gets out.¡±


    The Arbiter chuckled, waving her off. ¡°Peace, Ms. Rashid. It is nothing personal. I have trust issues. It comes with being in my field for as long as I have. You must understand how seriously I must take this. You might not be a direct threat to Quentin yourself, but that doesn¡¯t mean you aren¡¯t a danger to him. Consider what happens if he is distracted in the Arena if, say, he knows you¡¯re watching him. What happens if he grows attached to you and you leave, as women of your kind leave, that kind of thing. Meaning no offense, of course, just stating facts.¡±


    Razia smiled bitterly. ¡°You know what really brings me and Quentin together? We both know what it¡¯s like to be dismissed and considered dirty and low by those around us. He gets it better than almost any man I¡¯ve met. He¡¯s kind, compassionate, and doesn¡¯t judge us the way others do. I don¡¯t know how long I intend on sticking around, but I won¡¯t do him dirty. Not unless he does something really shitty to deserve it.¡±


    Omar inclined his head respectfully. ¡°Do you mean that?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Razia said, feeling trapped and not quite sure why.


    He stood. ¡°Then let¡¯s get Quentin out of trouble.¡±


    She expected the carriage ride to be more awkward than it was. Especially after the Arbiter¡¯s bodyguards came inside as well as on top of the carriage. It seemed like they were taking the attempt on the Emperor¡¯s life completely seriously. Razia appreciated that, though she was grateful it didn¡¯t stop her from getting the Arbiter out of his palace and on to helping Quentin out.


    The ride was mostly quiet, with both of them looking out the window and avoiding talking to one another. Neither seemed especially comfortable talking about anything of substance with the bodyguards around, and the guards were too busy keeping an eye out to be much for conversation. It meant Razia had about half an hour for her mind to wander, and it did.


    She wondered how angry Quentin would be with her. After promising to keep him in the loop on things, she¡¯d done the exact opposite. Razia told herself it was all so she could present the information all at once with decent conclusions. Something maybe Quentin would appreciate instead of her just sidling up to him and going, ¡®Hey Quentin, I got an idea.¡¯


    It was too late for that now, even if it wasn¡¯t too late to get Quentin out of real trouble. Thanks to Georgie, he now had a truly terrible idea of what people were seeing him as. Maybe after a bit he would see it the way she and the girls saw it. Razia promised herself she wouldn¡¯t push. Unless she saw an opportunity she couldn¡¯t ignore, of course. She wasn¡¯t about to lie to herself about that.


    And finally, Razia thought of the three bastards who refused to leave her alone. One dead, one jailed, and the other escaped. She couldn¡¯t really bring herself to care much for the one who died. They wanted worse to happen to her, and Razia wasn¡¯t the type of woman to shed tears over her enemies. With two thirds of them taken care of, maybe they¡¯d finally leave her alone and she could focus on the future.


    They pulled up to the Northwest Watchtower at about noon. The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of one of the Watch¡¯s prisoner carts. The back was open and a thin young man was already inside and chained to the bench. The front of the tower opened up and Razia¡¯s heart skipped a beat. They marched Quentin towards the cart.


    ¡°There! There he is, they¡¯re loading him up now!¡± she cried, making for the door and throwing it open. The Arbiter barely had time to let out a surprised sound before she was out of the carriage, feet slapping down hard on the sand. The coppers nearest to Quentin pulled their weapons on her and threw him to the ground behind them.


    ¡°Stop right there,¡± the nearest one said, pulling a sword on her. All around them the other coppers went from business as usual to armed and dangerous. Several had bolters aimed right at her.


    Razia didn¡¯t give a fuck. ¡°Unchain him immediately,¡± she demanded. ¡°Whatever you think you¡¯re doing, it ends here.¡±


    From his spot on the ground, Quentin stared up in her general direction, eyes screwed up so tight they were almost closed. ¡°Razia? You came?¡±


    ¡°Of course I came, dummy. You think I¡¯d let these bastards --¡± She was interrupted by the guard nearest to her backhanding her hard enough to send her to the ground as well.


    ¡°Shut up, bitch,¡± The guard spat, to the laughter of the others. ¡°Unless you wanna join him. Colosseum¡¯s taking all kinds of new fighters.¡±


    The Arbiter came out of the carriage, flanked by his bodyguards. His guards drew their own weapons but stayed a few feet away, waiting for orders. The coppers all around froze, not sure who this was but clearly able to recognize him as someone important. He raised a hand to get their attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m Supreme Arbiter Omar Faroukh,¡± he said in a strong yet calm voice that carried well. ¡°This man is one of my personal agents. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to ask you to release him to my custody.¡±


    No one moved to do anything, except for Razia who got to her feet and gingerly touched her bloody lip. She leveled a glare that could wilt flowers at the copper who hit her. He ignored her, staring at the Arbiter instead. No one was willing to be the first one to make a move, either in obedience or to tell the well dressed Ramali man to fuck off so they could get back to work.


    The Arbiter sighed and raised his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to do it blindly. Take me in to see your commanding officer and we¡¯ll get this sorted out.¡±


    That was agreeable enough. One by one the coppers lowered their weapons, the ones nearest Quentin holding out until everyone else was back to a reasonable level of alert. Razia pushed past them and helped Quentin to his feet. He held onto her hand with both of his, squeezing. It was then that Razia noticed the untreated wounds across his arms and the peek of wound through torn clothes on his side. A big nasty red line going up from his ribs to past his shoulder. The fall caused it to start oozing blood again, and the skin around the wound didn¡¯t look great.


    ¡°Did you fuckers really not see to his wounds at all?¡± Razia demanded, gesturing to the bloody bandages around his forearms. ¡°What, did you figure he was going to die anyway so no point? What the hell is --¡± She fell silent when the Arbiter raised his hand again.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get answers for this,¡± he promised her in a tone that would accept no insolence or resistance. He looked far from happy about it as well, and the nearest coppers looked at each other nervously.


    ¡°Right this way, Arbiter,¡± one of them said, opening the door to the Watchtower and giving a nervous, respectful bow.


    Supreme Arbiter Omar Faroukh put his hand on Quentin¡¯s shoulder and guided him along inside, with Razia following along close behind. The coppers trailed in last, half coming in and half staying out with the cart.


    The watchman in the front led them through an open main floor, where citizens came in to file reports and ask for help. Downstairs were where the prisoners were held, and the upper floors were for the higher ranked men, silver and gold badges, worked in relative peace. It was up to this second floor they were led, winding around desks as the Watch stared at them as they passed.


    Razia took all of this in from a distance. She remained focused on the Watchmen themselves. She didn¡¯t know how immediately recognizable the Arbiter was to the people who, indirectly, worked for him and his office. The fact that he had better outfitted bodyguards doubtlessly clued plenty of them in. For everyone else, his purposeful stride kept them from barring the way.


    ¡°Are you okay, Quentin?¡± Razia asked as they turned a corner and had to climb stairs to reach the next floor. He swayed on reaching the first landing, and Razia took his side, holding him by the less injured arm.


    ¡°A bit dizzy,¡± he admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s because of whatever I got dosed with or from my injuries.¡±


    ¡°Juice,¡± she said. ¡°Someone tried to drug me and got you instead.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I had a talk with Philus. He¡¯s not happy with either of us.¡± He said. Razia grinned. Quentin¡¯s smile faded as he said, ¡°I¡¯m not happy with us either.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it,¡± Razia promised. ¡°At length. As soon as we get you home.¡±


    They reached the third floor and had to stop for a minute for Quentin to catch himself again. Razia let him lean on her. The Arbiter caught her eyes and a silent exchange passed through them. Understanding, more than anything else. He gave her a respectful nod before the copper in front led them past a corridor of doors to the very end. He paused there and knocked.


    ¡°Enter,¡± an annoyed voice called out. The watchman looked back at the Arbiter and opened the door. He stepped to the side, not wanting to be in the same room when all of this went down. The Arbiter ushered Quentin and Razia in, following after Quentin took a seat in front of the commanding officer¡¯s desk.


    The man behind the desk wore a gold badge on his chest with the name ¡®P. Irwin¡¯ engraved on it. He was around the Arbiter¡¯s age, his short hair gray and tidy beard still mostly black. Upon looking up, he clearly recognized the man. P. Irwin shot to his feet, stammering out a welcome. ¡°S-supreme Arbiter! What brings you to our tower today?¡± His eyes slid over to Quentin.


    The Arbiter cleared his throat. ¡°There appears to have been a mistake, Inspector Irwin. Your men have arrested one of my personal agents. You are to release him to my custody immediately, and remove all records of his ever being arrested.¡± His jaw was set. He really wasn¡¯t happy about doing this, but he wasn¡¯t half-assing it either.


    ¡°But Supreme Arbiter, this man is guilty of murder,¡± said Inspector Irwin. ¡°Our investigation was thorough.¡±


    Omar raised an amused eyebrow. ¡°Was it?¡±


    Inspector Irwin shook his head. ¡°Not at all.¡± He made a face at what came out of his mouth. Grimacing, he added, ¡°it was open and shut. There was a street brawl between the moonkissed -- ¡°


    ¡°Quentin,¡± Razia said at the same time as the Arbiter said


    ¡°His name is Quentin, Inspector.¡±


    Inspector Irwin looked frustrated. ¡°There was a street brawl involving Quentin and Quentin killed another man. It doesn¡¯t get much more simple than that.¡±


    ¡°You had half a dozen witnesses telling your men it was in self defense,¡± Razia spat. ¡°We were told we weren¡¯t quality people, so our words meant nothing. You going to say that about the Supreme Arbiter¡¯s word?¡±


    She may as well have slapped him across the face. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that,¡± said Inspector Irwin, raising his voice. ¡°But the Arbiter wasn¡¯t there that night.¡±


    ¡°I am here as a character witness,¡± said Omar lightly. ¡°He is one of my agents. What he does is my responsibility. Where were you sending Quentin when we arrived?¡±


    ¡°The Colosseum.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± The Arbiter clicked his tongue. ¡°Let¡¯s go over this, Inspector. Your men arrested my agent from a fight where criminals accosted him and his companions. You decided that there was no need for a follow up, no time in court. It was enough to send this man to his death in under twenty four hours. Is that right?¡±


    With each word the scowl on Quentin¡¯s face grew until he looked truly pissed over what had happened to him. As if waking up in the cells cut up all to hell and pre-sentenced to death wasn¡¯t really actually bad until it was laid out like that. Razia was at least as pissed.


    The color drained out of Inspector Irwin¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s not how I would word it,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not,¡± said the Arbiter pleasantly. ¡°One final question, Inspector. In your opinion, was my agent fast tracked to the Colosseum because of his being, excuse me Quentin, Moonkissed?¡±


    The look on Inspector Irwin¡¯s lined, tired face was truly miserable. ¡°Yes, without a doubt.¡±


    The Arbiter nodded to himself. ¡°Thank you for your honesty, Inspector. I think that it¡¯s best if we all put this behind us. You¡¯ll release Quentin into my custody and burn whatever records you have of this arrest. You won¡¯t have to worry about who he is or why he¡¯s important, and I won¡¯t have to investigate such a flagrant disregard for protocol. Such a thing could be interpreted as attempted murder, and I know an upstanding man like you would never let that stand. We all walk away happy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Supreme Arbiter,¡± said Quentin, once they were back downstairs and at the entrance to the Watchtower. Everything had happened very quickly after the Arbiter offered the deal. No one wanted the headache that would¡¯ve come from handling the paperwork and investigating everyone whose hands were unclean. None of them would¡¯ve gone unscathed.


    They stepped outside. The cart was already gone, the other prisoner on its way to the Colosseum. Quentin stopped as the light hit him and blinded him. Now that she knew how bad his vision was, Razia could see how it affected him. He cupped his hands around his eyes to address the Arbiter.


    ¡°You may call me Omar. And with this, my debt is paid,¡± said Omar. He put his hand on Quentin¡¯s shoulder and squeezed. ¡°I¡¯m happy to do you favors or lend you an ear, Quentin, but please don¡¯t put me in a position to abuse mine again. Be careful. Don¡¯t give Amicus a reason to bench you. And more importantly, be safe.¡±


    He entered his carriage before either of them could think of anything to say, followed closely by his bodyguards. A moment later the carriage was off. And then it was just the two of them.


    ¡°Are you okay, Quentin?¡± Razia asked, suddenly afraid of how upset he could possibly be with her.


    ¡°Well,¡± he sighed, ¡°I¡¯m tired, injured, sore, blind, and my skin¡¯s definitely going to burn without my cloak. Which I didn¡¯t see with you. But at least I¡¯m not sentenced to death, I guess.¡±


    Razia smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s get you home and take care of you.¡±

 Chapter 31: The Unstoppable Mr. Q

    Chapter 31: The Unstoppable Mr. Q


    The walk home was mercifully short. Just about forty five minutes of walking in the warm late winter afternoon with the sun beating down on them. They walked hand in hand, with Razia guiding Quentin past pockets of people who turned to stare at him as they went. Razia found herself grateful he couldn¡¯t really see them as anything more than shapes and shadows. He would¡¯ve hated being a spectacle.


    They didn¡¯t speak much, and Razia was grateful for that too, although that made the anticipation worse. Here she got him out of trouble she got him into in the first place, and now was going to have to defend her less than perfect actions. Quentin could¡¯ve spent the entire walk home stewing over it and preparing over what he planned on saying to her and she never would¡¯ve known it. It was impossible to read his expression, face screwed up against the blinding sun. Her only clue that things were okay was his hand in hers, which she squeezed. After a second, he squeezed back.


    Their neighbors (and it still tripped up Razia to think of them as their anything) watched from a distance as Razia led them up to Quentin¡¯s garden gate. After a week she wasn¡¯t a complete stranger, and she¡¯d even struck up a few conversations with some of them while enjoying the community courtyard. Razia opened the gate and let them in, locking it behind her. Quentin stepped forward without her, groaning and rubbing his eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose anyone recovered my cloak after I was arrested?¡± Quentin asked wearily.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I¡¯ll buy you a new one today if you want.¡±


    Quentin grunted an acknowledgement and went to the couch and collapsed on it. His shoulders slumped and he sat there. Razia left him to his thoughts while she went around the house, collecting a bowl of hot water, the first aid kit, and fresh clothes for him. She set them all down on the floor in front of the couch. He looked up. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt and you¡¯ve gone too long without your wounds being looked at. Strip down and I¡¯ll clean and bandage you.¡± Razia brandished a sponge, fixing him with an overly serious frown.


    He grimaced in response, and Razia thought he was playing along with her act until he looked down and said, ¡°thank you, but I can get that in a minute. I¡¯m just really...tired, right now.¡±


    ¡°Or you could let me get it, and I can spend that time apologizing to you and trying to make things better,¡± Razia countered. ¡°Strip.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s fingers twitched. Injuries or not, he unconsciously hugged his arms close to his body, hunching over. ¡°I appreciate what you¡¯re trying to do, but it¡¯s unnecessary. Thank you, though.¡±


    This could¡¯ve been him still angry at her and trying to brush her off, but Razia didn¡¯t think so. No, there were enough little hints throughout the time they¡¯d spent together to make Razia suspect there was something deeper at work there. In all that time, he¡¯d always been completely clothed around her, usually wearing his cloak. Even his normal clothes were fairly conservative and tended to be large, even for his bigger frame.


    ¡°Quentin?¡± said Razia, straddling the couch and moving closer. She¡¯d have to approach this carefully. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. He didn¡¯t jerk away but he did look up. It was a start. ¡°Whatever¡¯s happened to you in the past, it wasn¡¯t by me. I¡¯m not going to judge you or hurt you.¡±


    Quentin swallowed hard. He chanced looking at her through the corner of his eye. ¡°I never said you would.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you strip down and let me see to your wounds? They¡¯re in an awkward place for you. Let me take care of this. Please.¡± She smiled at him.


    There was no answer for several seconds. Eventually, he let out a sigh. ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t laugh, or be disgusted, or...Or anything like that.¡±


    ¡°Is drooling allowed?¡±


    Quentin scoffed. ¡°There¡¯s no way...Whatever.¡± He took another few seconds to steel himself, then stood up. He undid his belt, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching down for the bottom of his tunic, he slowly pulled it up. It stuck in a few places where blood made the fabric cling to his skin. Razia was tempted to help him, but she sat back and let him work. One more tug and he was almost completely naked, save for the cloth tied around his waist keeping his privates hidden.


    And there was nothing there for Razia to mock or judge. Quentin was a large man with a fit body and the start of a paunch. His skin was the same too pale pink all over, occasionally darkened by bruises or the occasional mole. He had scars all over, and thin white hair on his chest. There was nothing wrong with him, but Razia knew that wasn¡¯t the end of it. The wounds of the past could ache for a lifetime.


    ¡°Thank you for trusting me,¡± Razia said. ¡°You look fine. You look good.¡±


    His head shot around to face her. ¡°Don¡¯t sugarcoat it.¡±


    Razia rolled her eyes theatrically. ¡°I¡¯m being honest. You. Look. Good. To. Me. Now either sit down and let me clean you up or stay standing and I¡¯ll keep ogling.¡± In a softer voice she said, ¡°I¡¯ve seen hundreds of men naked Quentin, and there is nothing wrong with your body. I promise.¡±


    He sat back down, still facing away from her. That was fine, that left the nasty cut going up his side facing her. Razia dipped the sponge in the hot water and tenderly washed away the blood from the sides. Despite how long it was, the cut was shallow and already partially scabbed over. She was careful not to disturb those scabs as she cleaned around the wound.


    ¡°This is...This actually looks a lot better than I was expecting,¡± Razia admitted as she looked at it. She gently put her hand to the side of it. The skin wasn¡¯t any hotter than usual, which probably meant it wasn¡¯t infected. ¡°This looks like it¡¯s healing on its own.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I heal pretty well, and fast,¡± said Quentin, shivering and straightening up as her fingers slid up his side.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Razia. ¡°Do the wounds even hurt?¡±


    Quentin shook his head, but he was half smiling. ¡°It¡¯s fine. They sting quite a bit, but pain is nothing new. How are my arms?¡±


    His arms, as they turned out, were more of the same. Once she cleaned away the blood and dirt they looked like they were already well on the way to healing. His chest was the only cut that looked bad enough to need treatment, and even then it was as simple as packing the wound with an odd smelling poultice Quentin assured her was safe and clean.


    She no sooner announced that she was done than Quentin had the fresh tunic and was pulling it on and over himself. Razia took the medical kit and put it away, coming back with a water skin and a plate of fruit. Quentin took them gratefully and collapsed back onto the couch. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said.


    Now that his basic needs were seen to, the guilt came creeping back in. ¡°I¡¯m really the one who should be thanking you, Quentin.¡± Razia sidled up closer until they were just barely touching. ¡°You got drugged by the drink that was meant for me, and then even while high off your ass you fought to defend me. And won. I¡¯d be insanely thankful for all of that, but to have to deal with the Watch and almost get sentenced to death...What would¡¯ve happened if I hadn¡¯t gotten your Arbiter friend in time?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, eating a piece of melon. ¡°My boss would¡¯ve laughed his ass off at me, for one. That would¡¯ve made his day. I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve gotten the chance to fight for my freedom though. Amicus would know better than to just lose a gladiator like that. He probably would¡¯ve put me in an unwinnable situation and had me tortured to death in front of thousands.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°So yes, I¡¯m extremely grateful to you,¡± Razia said. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry for all the trouble. Since we made our deal, you¡¯ve bailed me out of all kinds of trouble and given me safety. You¡¯ve more than lived up to your end of things. Do you think I¡¯ve lived up to mine? Are you any happier than you were before you met me?¡±


    He was silent for a few minutes. Razia¡¯s first instinct was to take it as a sign that he wasn¡¯t, and to panic, maybe try to sweet talk him. But as impulsive as she could be, Razia had the experience to just shut up and let him work through things. As his fingers fiddled together, she knew he was thinking and thinking hard.


    ¡°I think I am,¡± he finally said, turning to look at her though he remained leaning forward. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m the kind of person who can be happy overall, but I¡¯ve...I¡¯ve enjoyed the past week. Even with the fighting. Hell,¡± he scoffed, smiling crookedly, ¡°especially. You know me pretty well at this point. I think you might be the only one who does. And it¡¯s been nice being...accepted. I feel like everyone except Isa likes me.¡±


    ¡°Isa can be a nasty bitch,¡± Razia said helpfully. ¡°Even to people she likes. The fact that you helped her out is unforgivable to her, because she knows she¡¯s being shitty to you and doesn¡¯t have an excuse.¡±


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    Quentin chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t mind her as much. I find it refreshing and familiar, to be honest. And Samantha is nice too, though she can be a bit much at times. I didn¡¯t expect to meet and like Maria, or Lucy, or Amy and Jenna. I didn¡¯t expect to be welcomed in, or accepted, and most of them seem to.¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± Razia confirmed.


    ¡°Which is why I¡¯m upset that apparently things aren¡¯t what I thought they were.¡± There was no change to his tone, but Razia still winced. ¡°I thought I was honestly making friends through personal merit. I didn¡¯t know they viewed it as a transaction. How long was that going on?¡±


    It was Razia¡¯s turn to fall silent as she thought about her answer. She stared at the clear blue sky through the skylight, making the pool glitter in the midday light. She thought about the past few days and how she wanted to word things. Being open and honest wasn¡¯t easy, when most of her job consisted of putting on a performance and letting people believe she was as into them as they were into her. With Quentin, she found herself wanting to be honest. If only because he didn¡¯t seem capable of guile himself.


    ¡°Not long,¡± she finally answered with a sigh. ¡°However you¡¯re thinking it happened, it¡¯s probably not that. It all has to do with reputation.¡±


    ¡°What reputation?¡± Quentin asked, incredulous. ¡°I¡¯m invisible at best. At worst I¡¯m a momentary weird thing for people to see and then forget about when I¡¯m not around.¡±


    ¡°Would you stop that? The only reason you¡¯re surprised by any of this is because you insist on seeing yourself in the worst possible light and ignore what¡¯s actually going on. Maybe that¡¯s how things worked for most of your life, but that¡¯s not what it¡¯s been like with me. Once people get used to your appearance, things change.


    ¡°No matter what you tell yourself Quentin, people remember you. You just need to actually be around and participate for it to happen. And you have been. You want to know how your reputation has developed?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, but nodded.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Razia, turning to face him directly. ¡°First you hang out with me. Maybe no one remembers or talks about it, but it happens. Then you go looking for me and cause trouble along the way.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t intentional.¡±


    ¡°Too bad, it still happened! And that got both me and Samantha to really notice you more than we already had. I bust the girls out, and me and you both share the blame for that, in others¡¯ eyes. Sorry, but that¡¯s how it goes. So what happens? You keep defending me and Samantha sees it. You defend her. We go out together, and you defend Isa, and everyone finds out about it. At this point, it¡¯s not just me talking, but Samantha, Maria, Lucy, even Isa, and also all the people who watched you take on ten men and win.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Quentin protested. ¡°It wasn¡¯t ten men. It was like, maybe six of them and they were all drunk as hell.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure, of course. Anyone would¡¯ve been able to take them on and win. C¡¯mon now, Quentin.¡± Razia raised a brow. After a second he begrudgingly grunted his acknowledgement. ¡°So now you have an entire tavern of people who saw it and saw you surrounded by lovely working girls who wouldn¡¯t leave you alone after. At the end of that first night, people were already talking. The girls were already talking, and I had no part of that. What do you think you are to them, Quentin?¡±


    Silence again. Quentin shrugged, looking away from her. Razia was beginning to understand his body language. He didn¡¯t want to admit that she had a point, or that his self hatred was wrong. ¡°You show up and immediately treat them better than most men. You don¡¯t grope them or grab them or make any attempts to get close just to fuck them. That alone would¡¯ve gotten you some love. But then you go out of your way to help them when in trouble -- ¡°


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t out of my way!¡± Quentin blurted out. ¡°I was sitting right there. I had a direct line of sight to them hurting Isa and her trying to get away from them. They hit her. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and watch it happen?¡±


    ¡°Most people would¡¯ve done exactly that, Quentin!¡± Razia didn¡¯t hold back the laughter this time. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to get across to you, you silly bastard. You don¡¯t care if someone gives you shit but you have no tolerance for others being messed with around you. And so in just a couple of days you developed a reputation that was feeding itself. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve realized this by now, but us girls talk. A lot. Amy and Jenna more so than most of us.¡±


    Quentin shuddered, but he was smiling. Just fifteen minutes sitting between the two of them was like living through a tornado of sound. Razia took that smile as a good sign and pressed on.


    ¡°Two days ago Lucy asked if she could get in on what Samantha and I had. I told her that we had a special deal going with you. She begged and told me that being around you was the safest she¡¯s felt while working.¡±


    In truth, Lucy had more or less tried to get in on it that first night. Razia first had an inkling when Lucy brought a client over and asked Quentin for his blessing. She¡¯d written it off as just copying what she and Samantha were doing, which was just touching bases, and it took off from there. It wasn¡¯t until later that Lucy out and out spoke to her about it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Isa certainly doesn¡¯t feel safer around me.¡±


    Razia rolled her eyes. ¡°Isa doesn¡¯t like that she doesn¡¯t have any valid complaints about you. It pisses her off, so she¡¯ll use any reason. You notice that she still comes by and comes to your table? She treats you like shit and she still knows that she can hang near you and still enjoy the benefits of your presence. You really don¡¯t get it.


    ¡°To these women, you aren¡¯t Quentin Quintius, tormented executioner and lonely hermit who spends his nights reading and brooding.¡± She nudged him, getting a smile Quentin couldn¡¯t suppress. ¡°You¡¯re the unstoppable Mr. Q, the patient but strong man who has no time for anyone treating his girls wrong.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Q,¡± Quentin groaned. ¡°I¡¯ll never forgive Samantha for starting that. It sounds so stupid.¡±


    ¡°It sounds fond,¡± Razia countered. ¡°And mysterious. And like it or not, that¡¯s how people are starting to know you.¡± Razia leaned in close and pointed out there. ¡°You see that guy in the corner? That¡¯s Mr. Q. You want some primo pussy, you go to him and for the love of the gods do not disrespect him or his girls.¡±


    Quentin rubbed at his eyes. ¡°Why would I want to be a pimp? Admittedly, my experience with them is limited but I was not impressed.¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°So don¡¯t be like that. Think of the girls. Think of Maria, Samantha, and the rest of them. They like you, you like them. Orchrisus is dangerous and plenty of people don¡¯t take no for an answer. Why not try something new in your life? You already told me you don¡¯t spend every night at the Colosseum. You have plenty of free time, and you could make their lives better.¡±


    Quentin took his time thinking about it. He paused to eat some fruit, staring off into the distance in the way that he did, careful not to stare at other people directly. At first Razia had thought it was shyness. Goodness knows Quentin was shy. No, Razia suspected it was to show he wasn¡¯t intentionally saying nothing at her to intimidate her. Eventually he took a big drink of water and turned his intense gaze back at her.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was going on as it was going on. I think that shows that it wouldn¡¯t change too many things in my life. But I can¡¯t help but feel like this conveniently helps you out. A lot.¡± He spread his hands. ¡°I want to trust you Razia, but you¡¯ve shown...you¡¯re proud of never doing things for just one reason. I don¡¯t need any more money. I already have a job I¡¯m good at. What do I get out of this?¡±


    Maybe it was dirty, but it was too ingrained in Razia for her not to do. She was a physical person by nature, and tended to communicate in touch. Razia draped herself in his lap and stole a grape from him. Instantly his jaw set and his entire attention was on her. Razia smiled at him as she popped the grape into her mouth.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± she said, looking up at him upside down. ¡°You¡¯d get to spend your evenings with a group of beautiful women who like and accept you. You get to get in fights with people who try any shit. You get to show your face in public and demand respect. And best of all, you spend your evenings with me.¡±


    The look of sudden longing and hunger in his eyes made her pulse quicken. There it was. He wasn¡¯t completely opposed to the idea, and that was what she liked to see. But almost as soon as it was there it was gone again, replaced by a frown.


    ¡°I...I can¡¯t keep shaking the thought that you¡¯re using me. Especially when you...When you do that. And you know exactly what I¡¯m talking about. I don¡¯t like feeling like things aren¡¯t real. When you tease me like that, I¡­¡± He huffed, frustrated that the right words wouldn¡¯t come. He dropped his gaze. ¡°What are we, Razia?¡±


    It was tempting to joke or tease him more, but she couldn¡¯t. Not about this. ¡°At bare minimum we¡¯re friends, Quentin. What do you want us to be?¡± She asked the question simply, without any change in her voice. She might as well have whispered it dramatically for how Quentin reacted. He swallowed hard and cautiously put his hand on her side.


    ¡°I¡­¡± His eyes darted between her and the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t want to feel like you¡¯re offering to fuck me out of pity or to bribe me. I don¡¯t want to be just another transaction.¡±


    Razia put her hand over his and gently moved it up closer, stopping just before reaching the gentle swell of her breast. ¡°You¡¯re not. This is who I am, Quentin. This is how I am. I accept you. Do you accept me?¡±


    He looked so very badly like he wanted to. Excitement built up in Razia as his hand on her moved. Slowly, over her breast and further on, stopping over her heart. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t stop doing your job, if we were together.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°This is who I am,¡± she repeated. ¡°We have very different views on sex and relationships. But I give you my word that just because I am more open about it that doesn¡¯t mean it matters any less to me.¡±


    There was that hunger again. It didn¡¯t disappear this time, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. ¡°Let¡¯s say I don¡¯t want to be your pimp. Does this offer go away?¡±


    Razia smiled at him, amused but understanding. She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make you do anything you don¡¯t want to do, Quentin. I just want to show you a good time and maybe help you find some fulfillment in your life. Help me or don¡¯t. Be my lover or don¡¯t. I¡¯ll be here regardless because I know you won¡¯t hurt me. All I want is for Samantha and Maria and the rest to feel as safe as I do.¡±


    She knew right away it was the exact right thing to say. Quentin closed his eyes, sighing. ¡°Really? That¡¯s dirty,¡± he said, but underneath the faux annoyance Razia could tell he liked the idea of being considered safe. She had a lot on offer here, and she saw the last of the fight go out of him. Was it manipulative to give someone what they wanted?


    Quentin pulled away from her and stood up. ¡°I have a lot to think about,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not a no. Not yet. But¡­It¡¯s a maybe.¡±


    Razia grinned. ¡°Maybe? To which part?¡±


    He eyed her, smiling in spite of himself. ¡°It¡¯s a maybe. For now, I need to lay down. My everything is killing me.¡±


    She suspected Quentin just needed some space to think. That was fine. Razia could work with that. Razia could work with a solid maybe. Maybe with time he¡¯d understand that she really did plan everything with multiple reasons in mind. Razia wanted it all, and she planned on getting it.

 Chapter 32: The Rules

    Part 4: The Blooming


    Chapter 32: The Rules


    It was silly to be this nervous, but Quentin was. There was a pretty big difference between accidentally stumbling along into an unplanned role and going out to perform that role intentionally. One was as natural as breathing, and the other like noticing you¡¯re breathing and then having to remember to keep it up. Razia reassured him it would be fine, but she had him all kinds of confused lately.


    He stood in her room, in front of her mirror as he tried his new cloak on. True to her word Razia went out that very day and brought him back a replacement that not only fit, but looked good. The problem was¡­


    ¡°Are you sure you couldn¡¯t have gotten something a little...Easier to hide in?¡± said Quentin as Razia fiddled with the claps in front.


    ¡°I could¡¯ve, but that would¡¯ve meant going for a battered, ugly, plain old thing like the one you had. If you wanted one of those, you should¡¯ve said so before you said you¡¯d try out a new double life. Knowing you were going to be in public, I had to get this one.¡± Razia smiled at him, pulling away and gesturing for him to check himself out in the mirror.


    Quentin was quite fond of his old cloak. It was big, brown, and pretty much completely hid his face and most of his features and even some of his size. It was perfect for going by with minimal notice. The one she got for him...wasn¡¯t. It was a deep, blue-ish black with silver threading along the sides. The hood would cover his face from the sun, but it was meant for fashion and not concealment. If Quentin went out like this, there was no hiding. And because of that, Razia had him in his best clothes as well, a black tunic that together with the cloak made the pallor of his skin look vibrant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a good idea,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t look right. It¡¯s missing something.¡±


    Razia stood beside him and looked at his reflection with him, rubbing her chin. ¡°I think you¡¯re right. It¡¯s missing something. But we don¡¯t have time to fill the gap. You look good, Mr. Q,¡± she teased. ¡°Striking and deadly. A perfect fusion of elegance and danger, if I do say so myself. Come on.¡± Razia left her room, and Quentin followed a few seconds later, still grumbling.


    She picked up the pace, looking over her shoulder at Quentin and flashing him a cheeky grin as he made his steps longer to keep up. And then they were out of the house before he could continue to complain and beg to stay home. He knew what Razia was doing and still felt powerless to stop it. But when they were safely out in the early evening gloom, it was too late to back out of it.


    Outside of their private community, people did look. That was the hardest part at first, was just feeling dozens of eyeballs on him at any given moment, watching his every move. There was nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Hell, running would just bring more attention to him. So he walked onward stiffly, eyes darting around nervously.


    ¡°Head up, slow your pace, and stare straight ahead,¡± Razia said from beside him. Looking down he saw that she was doing the same, walking with purpose but without hurry, keeping her head forward. ¡°Try to look at things out of the corner of your eye. If you look busy or like you¡¯re on your way somewhere, people can¡¯t do much to you.¡±


    Quentin nodded and did as she said. If nothing else, it was easier to pretend everyone else wasn¡¯t there. As mind bendingly wrong as it felt, he kept his head up high instead of hunching over. He must¡¯ve been doing something right, because no one stopped or accosted them, and even the merchants at the side of the street fell silent rather than trying to get his attention. One tried, and when Quentin reflexively looked in his direction, he fell silent and the two left him behind.


    It wasn¡¯t far to Maggie¡¯s Den from their house, but it felt like a small eternity. Getting there was a relief, both in being off the streets and trusting that nothing really bad was going to happen at Maggie¡¯s Den. Quentin wouldn¡¯t have to lift a finger to keep the peace when Maggie was probably tougher than he was anyway. They entered together and found that they weren¡¯t the first to arrive.


    ¡°Mr. Q! Razia!¡± Samantha called out from a table in the middle, waving enthusiastically. Pretty much the entire bar looked at her, and then looked at them. An entire pub of voyeuristic stares. Quentin grimaced.


    ¡°After you, Mr. Q,¡± Razia bowed and gestured for him to go. He grumbled something under his breath and went in, taking the seat next to Samantha. Razia sat across from him, and nodded. Quentin put his arm around Samantha¡¯s shoulder and gave her a light squeeze. He¡¯d had more hugs in the past three weeks than he¡¯d had in the fifteen years before, but it still felt weird being the one to initiate one.


    ¡°Hey Sam,¡± he said. ¡°You doing okay after the other night?¡± Gods knew he was still having a bit of trouble.


    Samantha looked up to him with delight rapidly spreading on her face. Some of her infatuation with him seemed to have died down at that point, but the look on her face from the hug nearly made Quentin end it. She threw both her arms around his middle and squeezed, inadvertently pressing in on his still healing wound. ¡°I am, thanks for asking! You were amazing, by the way. I thought we were in trouble until you ended things.¡±


    Quentin forced a smile. ¡°Not going to let anything happen to my girls.¡± It was official. Quentin was having a weird dream. The words were wrong in his mouth, utterly alien. It made Samantha¡¯s face light up though, and Razia looked pleased. Maybe that was enough to make it...fine. For some strange reason, Samantha seemed to think the world of him.


    ¡°Oh, I should get more drinks.¡± Lucy stopped at their table, holding a couple of mugs. She set them down and smiled at Quentin. ¡°What¡¯re you drinking, Mr. Q?¡± Sweet, young, kind of timid Lucy, who saw Quentin beat the shit out of some drunks and thought, yeah, that¡¯s the guy I want to be around. It was ludicrous, but there was something similar in her eyes as Samantha¡¯s. Something Quentin still didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Wine for me. Give me something you like to drink,¡± he said, reaching into his purse and pulling out a couple of qala pieces. ¡°Same for Razia.¡± Gods, this was nerve wracking. They were all looking at him, and listening. Whatever he said would probably go. Maybe it had been like that all along, but knowing it made it weird.


    ¡°Right away,¡± Lucy¡¯s smile widened. She took the shards and returned to the bar. Quentin caught Razia¡¯s eyes. She had the worst, smuggest smile on her face. Quentin frowned at her, but it only made her smile wider. Maybe later she¡¯d share in the joke.


    ¡°So where are we going tonight?¡± Samantha asked. ¡°You said to meet up here for dinner, but Maggie doesn¡¯t have any rooms. Only thing I see happening here are blowjobs behind the building, and I don¡¯t wanna ruin my dress.¡±


    Although hearing it out loud made Quentin do a double take, Razia just smiled and shrugged. ¡°Waiting for everyone to arrive first. Things are changing, starting tonight.¡±


    Samantha looked excited, but didn¡¯t press. Lucy arrived with their drinks and Quentin allowed himself to relax and abandon himself in the pleasant environment of a bustling pub, with people chatting and laughing all around. Andrea played her lute in the corner, getting really into it as patrons near her clapped in time with her song. This was a good place. Quentin lowered his hood and finally let himself relax.


    Isa was the next to arrive, surprising everyone. Razia in particular stiffened when she arrived at their table, having a silent conversation with the dusk-girl before pulling the chair out for her. Isa even gave Quentin a minuscule nod that was acknowledgement, if not actual respect. He¡¯d take it. Jenna came then, without Amy. She was surprisingly quiet and subdued. They grabbed another table and pushed them together so they¡¯d all fit.


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    Razia got them orders of baked flatbreads covered in savory meats and cheese. Light dining before getting to work. They waited for a while, eating and just talking, waiting. ¡°Are you sure Maria is coming?¡± Samantha finally said, wiping crumbs from the corner of her lip.


    ¡°She was supposed to,¡± said Razia, frowning. ¡°Maybe Tricia¡¯s sick and Maria stayed home to take care of her. In any case, she was the last person we were waiting for, so maybe we can just start. Mr. Q?¡±


    Quentin washed down the last of his flatbread with wine. He found himself genuinely sad to not see Maria. Now that he had proper perspective, in truth she was the first one of them to ask for him to keep an eye out for her. She hadn¡¯t hidden it, she¡¯d just asked plainly. And aside from Razia, she was the one he enjoyed talking to most. ¡°Right,¡± he said. ¡°We had a lot to talk about.¡±


    Now that he was on the spot, Quentin couldn¡¯t remember what words were, and also his tongue was three sizes too big for him, and why did everyone have to stare when they were waiting for him to speak? He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.


    ¡°Razia and I have been talking about our little arrangement. Originally, it was just her and Samantha, who both owe me money. I found out just yesterday about the rest of it. I was not in on this, and never actually agreed to protect you in exchange for a portion of your earnings. That was Razia, counting on my love of cracking skulls to get the job done. That misunderstanding ends tonight.¡±


    All around the tables, the girls had mixed reactions. Samantha looked troubled before realizing she still owed him money and it didn¡¯t mean her. Isa looked almost triumphant, like she¡¯d caught him being as bad as she expected. Jenna looked shocked, and poor Lucy was crushed by the news. Razia nodded encouragingly, unphased by catching the blame. Quentin cleared his throat and continued.


    ¡°I already have a well paying job. I have no reason to quit it to do this. However¡­¡± Quentin looked around the table, trying to smile gently and make it look natural instead of a grimace. ¡°I only have to work a couple days a week. I can afford to spend some of my other nights looking out for you and keeping you safe from predators. But if we go through with this, there are going to be some ground rules I¡¯m setting down.¡±


    Samantha squirmed next to him. Quentin tapped her on her shoulder. She jerked, looking up to him and looking upset. ¡°Rules? Have we been doing things wrong, or making it hard on you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that,¡± Razia said, jumping in. ¡°It¡¯s more to make sure our nights go smoothly and we know what to expect from one another. It¡¯s like making a deal together, and making sure we all follow it.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Quentin, nodding along. ¡°Exactly.¡± While they agreed that if he was going to do this, he¡¯d need to at least look like he was leadership material and in charge of things. In truth, there was no way in hell Quentin was going to do this without Razia taking care of most of the little details he either didn¡¯t know or didn¡¯t care to know. They were going to do this as a team. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have a problem with any of them.¡±


    ¡°What are they, then?¡± Isa demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. She still had her normal defiant, sharp look but it wasn¡¯t full of the same kind of suspicion and loathing as usual. Maybe she was actually going to give him a shot. ¡°What happens if we break these rules? We going to be left to our own devices, just like that? Cast off from the rest of the group if we don¡¯t appease you?¡±


    Gods, but he really did appreciate Isa¡¯s hostility. Aside from being a welcome change of pace from the weird acceptance he¡¯d been facing, it provided Quentin with a chance to address problems without having to bring them up himself. ¡°Honestly? Probably not. I¡¯ve got something of a...a weakness for pretty women.¡± He couldn¡¯t help but look at Razia as he said it. She blew him a kiss.


    ¡°If you break these rules I¡¯ll probably ask you not to follow us around tomorrow, but it¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to force you to be apart from your friends. I don¡¯t own any of you, and I don¡¯t plan on trying to own you. If you want to know what breaking my rules will cost you, then you should probably know what you¡¯ll be getting out of this. Razia?¡±


    Razia cleared her throat. ¡°On nights when Quentin¡¯s around, food, drink, and rooms will be taken care of. We¡¯ll handle the costs and make sure you¡¯re comfortable while working.¡± A low murmur rose among the girls assembled. It wasn¡¯t a world changing perk, but they were things that ate into their profits. Most nights they had to spend money before they could make any. Pleased at the initial reaction, Razia continued.


    ¡°Obviously no one will be allowed to harm you under his watch. In the main rooms where we work we¡¯ll be there to keep an eye out and put a stop to things. If something happens in your room, we won¡¯t be able to respond immediately. But you tell us after, and that client will pay the price.¡±


    This was one of the hardest perks to accept, and one Razia had to convince him to agree to. Quentin had no problem getting in fights and beating the piss out of guys who got handsy with the girls. That wasn¡¯t just okay, it was guilt free fun. But the idea of having to go out of his way to punish someone, to be an enforcer of his own rules¡­


    They¡¯d argued about it for the better part of an hour the night before. It was nearly the part that made Quentin stand up and say no. But then Razia whispered in his ear and told him to imagine finding out something had happened to her or Samantha, and he knew exactly who did it. He gave in when he realized exactly what he would do in that situation. ¡°The same goes for rival pimps, or other girls who start trouble, or the Watch,¡± Quentin spoke up, folding his hands together. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna be here every night, but when I am you¡¯ll have my protection.¡±


    Samantha spoke up then, haltingly, clearly not sure whether it was her place to or not. ¡°You know I¡¯m okay with all of that. I owe you too much money to say no!¡± She laughed, but Quentin grimaced at her wording. ¡°But how much is that going to cost us?¡±


    Razia spoke up again. ¡°One third of our earnings goes to the pot, which Quentin will take home at night. When you¡¯re working, we can watch over the rest of your shards and make sure they¡¯re safe.¡±


    ¡°Convenient, that,¡± said Isa again. ¡°What happens if the two of you don¡¯t want to pay us, or you want to take more than your fair share?¡± She leaned back in her chair, staring Quentin down. ¡°What happens when we don¡¯t earn enough and you decide we owe you a little more? What happens when you decide you get free access to our bodies?¡±


    Razia made a face, but didn¡¯t say anything. Her message was clear. ¡®You¡¯re on your own, Quentin¡¯. He also made a face. ¡°I don¡¯t intend on any of that. ANY of that. I have enough money from my other job to live on. This is just me trying something out to have a little fun and see what happens. And I can promise you, I¡¯ll never demand you have sex with me.¡±


    Maybe it said something about her crush that Samantha was the only one who didn¡¯t immediately look relieved. Lucy visibly relaxed, and Jenna just sort of shrugged. Isa was, naturally, the only one who wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°Yes, because we¡¯ve never heard that one before.¡±


    Quentin caught Razia¡¯s eye. Her smile was sly, impish.¡°I¡¯m not a greedy man. I only need one lover at a time, and Razia is¡­¡± Damn her, she was enjoying this. ¡°Razia is satisfying me well enough for now.¡±


    ¡°So Razia¡¯s your number one bitch?¡± Jenna asked, making Quentin choke on his drink.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Razia said, bowing her head and shaking with silent laughter. ¡°And don¡¯t any of you sluts forget it. What do you say, ladies? You want in on this, or are you out?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± said Samantha, surprising no one. She shrugged. ¡°I was already in, and it¡¯s not like it¡¯s a bad deal.¡±


    Lucy nodded seriously. ¡°It¡¯s a good deal. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll let us down. I¡¯m in.¡±


    Jenna was uncharacteristically quiet as she thought about it. When she was ready she let out a loud sigh and said, ¡°I don¡¯t think Amy¡¯s gonna be coming back. I¡¯m in, just so long as you keep that bitch away. She doesn¡¯t deserve protection.¡±


    ¡°If she comes back and wants to make the deal, I¡¯ll probably allow it,¡± Quentin said.


    Jenna shrugged. ¡°Whatever. She¡¯s not going to come back anyway. It¡¯s fine.¡± It didn¡¯t sound fine, but it was none of Quentin¡¯s business. Not until she or Amy made it his business, at least, and he¡¯d burn that bridge when he crossed it.


    Everyone turned to Isa, who was staring at Quentin unblinkingly. When he met her eyes, she looked away. She nodded, hugging herself as if this was costing her something. ¡°Fine. For now.¡±


    Razia lifted her drink for a toast. ¡°I know Maria and if she was here, she¡¯d say yes too. When we see her next, we¡¯ll give her the same deal. To Mr. Q,¡± she toasted.


    Quentin let out a sigh as the rest of the girls, even Isa, toasted his stupid new name. This was it. They¡¯d had dinner, they¡¯d forged their little deal, and now it was almost time to get to work. He looked around the table, taking in the happy faces and the strange faith they were placing in him. He still was unsure of this. He didn¡¯t want to be scum, and yet he was going from murderer for hire to pimp. It was honestly a step down in how awful he was, which made it a step up? Quentin hardly knew anymore.


    All he knew is that out of all of those happy faces, Razia¡¯s was beaming the biggest and brightest. She lit up the room just by being there and talking and laughing with the rest of them. Quentin still didn¡¯t know if he trusted her, but he wanted to be around her just the same. If this would make her happy, then Quentin was happy too.

 Chapter 33: The Twilight Dancer

    Chapter 33: The Twilight Dancer


    After everyone had agreed to the new rules, they set out looking for trouble. Razia picked the perfect place, a busier, more popular one this time, and they were going to go pick a fight and make some noise. None of the girls knew this. That was something Razia had cooked up and Quentin tentatively agreed to, if they were going to go through with it. Quentin¡¯s debut was going to be explosive and set the tone.


    That was the reason for the flashy new cloak, and it was the reason why Quentin walked down the street with his arms around Samantha and Jenna¡¯s shoulders. Razia led the way, with Isa and Lucy trailing behind. Even on a good day Quentin was incredibly self conscious about people perceiving him. Now he was demanding it and succeeding in a way that filled him with dread.


    And why wouldn¡¯t they? They made quite the sight: a well dressed, perpetually scowling moonkissed with his arms wrapped around two busty women in tight dresses, with an honor guard of prostitutes. They moved as a group and, Quentin couldn¡¯t believe it, people actually fell silent and got out of their way. They didn¡¯t have to weave and dodge their way through traffic like Quentin did when alone. And all it cost was everyone watching him at all times. Ahead of him, Razia looked over her shoulder at him questioningly. He nodded; he was okay for now. She smiled widely and turned back around, leading them down another street. A minute later, they were at their destination for the night.


    The Twilight Dancer wasn¡¯t like the other places they¡¯d used before. Most of those places were inns or taverns, doling out drinks and providing rooms for the night. No one stayed the entire night at the Twilight Dancer. You could get a drink or a simple meal, but it was famous for a number of small, raised stages where anyone, patron or employee, could get up and dance for everyone¡¯s delight. It was exactly the kind of place where pimps paraded their whores around.


    It was no Silk Lounge, but it also meant they weren¡¯t competing against the house. Just whoever was established and comfortable there. Razia stopped just shy of the front doors. Turning around, she said, ¡°Are you bitches ready to make some shards?¡± Samantha cheered, with Lucy joining in late. Razia rolled her eyes and said, enunciating each word carefully, ¡°Are you bitches ready to make some shards?¡± They let out a high pitched cheer that left Quentin¡¯s ears ringing. Laughing, they made their way inside.


    The Twilight Dancer was dim inside, hanging lamps burning low. They swung gently as they walked by, making shadows dance across them. Quentin tried to keep his eyes forward and not gawk, but it was hard. There were eight stages with cushioned benches surrounding them ringing around the room, with the bar in the center and two stairways leading up on either end of the bar. Six of the stages were occupied, their seats full of men and women throwing shards up at the semi-nude men and women on stage as musicians played for them.


    Razia led them around to the corner, like they had every other place they¡¯d gone. They were lucky; the stairs were just a few feet away. Quentin sat at the table a bit behind the stage, and the others filled in around him. Razia remained standing. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going to get the rooms and rent out the stage. You ready, Mr. Q?¡±


    Was he? Not even close. Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted itself in knots as he looked around. Around the building he saw other men like him. Men and one woman who sat at tables like his, a mix of men and women orbiting them. Predators, lounging around with a crew of their own. Somehow, Quentin ended up here too. He was far from ready, but it was time to perform.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make some shards, bitches.¡± Quentin made a note to not address them as bitches again.


    Razia took a handful of shards from him and went up to the bar. Quentin turned to the other girls. ¡°Which of you wants to dance first?¡±


    Silence, then Samantha perked up. ¡°I¡¯ll do it! I¡¯ll have them coming over here in no time.¡±


    Out of all of them, Razia told Quentin to not let her go first. Due to her extreme curves, it¡¯d be a waste to show her off too early. That, and while Quentin wasn¡¯t sure what he thought of her (other than vaguely fond), he knew damned well what he felt about her appearance. He didn¡¯t need a distraction this early. ¡°Hm. Not yet. What about you?¡± He gestured to Jenna.


    Jenna shrugged. She was in her mid twenties and more pretty than beautiful, but she had long chestnut hair and the second largest breasts out of them. Lucy was honestly better looking but he didn¡¯t want to put her up before anyone else for fear she¡¯d freeze. There was also Isa, but no way in hell Quentin was going to try telling her to do anything. These were the types of things he now had to consider. Quentin shook his head and motioned towards the stage.


    Over at the bar Razia caught his attention with a big thumbs up. The bartender looked at him and gave him a respectful nod before calling out loudly, ¡°Attention ladies and lads, we got some generosity tonight. Everyone gets a round on Mr. Q!¡±


    A cheer went through the crowd. Quentin would¡¯ve been surprised if any of them had heard the name before tonight, even if Razia was to be believed about his growing reputation. But it would get them talking. Jenna climbed onto the stage. ¡°Now what?¡± She asked, looking around. A dark haired woman with black make up came up to them, carrying a drum under one arm.


    ¡°Part of the service,¡± she explained, taking a seat on the bench in front of the mini stage. ¡°Tips are, of course, welcome. I¡¯m Beth.¡±


    Quentin reached into his purse. He offered his hand to her, slipping her a castura when she shook it. ¡°Pleased to have you join us. Give us a good beat.¡±


    She pocketed the shard and bowed her head. Setting the drums between her legs, she beat out a slow rhythm with her hands, growing more complex the longer she went on. Quentin nodded to Jenna, who still looked a bit lost. The music helped. Jenna rolled her head around on her shoulders, loosening up, and began swaying to the music.


    Quentin settled back. He had some distance. Razia told him it would be better like that. Close enough to be an obvious presence and far enough away to look above it all. It seemed silly to him, but Quentin was happy enough to not be right there for the dance. It didn¡¯t take too long for Jenna to get more into it, swaying her hips to the beat while she trailed her fingertips up her body.


    ¡°Yeah, Jenna!¡± Samantha cheered her on, getting up close and dancing on the bench anyway. Lucy joined her, dancing without any sort of rhythm or sense to it but she looked like she was having a blast. Razia came back with handfuls of mugs. Water for her and Quentin, wine for everyone else. He¡¯d keep his head on as best he could.


    ¡°How you holding up so far?¡± Razia took her seat next to Quentin. ¡°Watching the girls strip won¡¯t be too much, will it?¡±


    Quentin shot her an annoyed look. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have agreed to it if I wasn¡¯t up for it. Besides, I¡¯m...I¡¯m not a prude, Razia. It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t enjoy the female form, it¡¯s...It¡¯s a different problem.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± Razia held her hands up. ¡°You¡¯ve really gotta tell me about that problem someday.¡±


    ¡°Someday,¡± Quentin agreed. Razia smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.


    ¡°What was that for?¡± Quentin asked, not displeased by it.


    ¡°Completing the look, Mr. Q. Now you¡¯ve got my mark on you, making you my bitch,¡± Razia said, breaking out into laughter. ¡°No, it makes it look like you¡¯re getting some action, which will help right about...Now.¡± She stood up and walked away in time for Quentin to receive his first visitors.


    Two of them. The first was a balding man with a beer gut, the other was older and gray haired with a lot of laugh lines. When Razia backed away, they sat at Quentin¡¯s table across from them. ¡°You the one to thank about a free drink?¡± Beer Gut asked.


    Quentin inclined his head. ¡°This place needed some energy,¡± he said. ¡°Hope you enjoy it.¡±


    Laugh Lines grinned at him. ¡°Thankee kindly. These your girls?¡±


    It was hard to say yes. Quentin was still getting used to the idea, but there was the part to play. He leaned back against the wall, doing his best to look relaxed and alert at the same time with a predator¡¯s languid grace. ¡°Sure are. Any of them catch your eye?¡±


    Their eyes shifted over to the stage. The girls took up some of the seats, but by now others had wandered over and watched Jenna lift her dress up just enough to be indecent and shake her ass in their direction, wiggling in a circle like she was proud to show off to everyone. Then the dress dropped and she was cupping and squeezing her tits.


    ¡°Well, yes,¡± said Beer Gut. ¡°All of them, but¡­¡± he chuckled. ¡°She¡¯s looking pretty good on that stage. How much?¡±


    This was the part that Quentin and Razia had argued about a bit. He¡¯d really wanted to make the negotiations up to the girls. They knew what they were doing and how much to ask for. Some men would still go to them instead of Quentin, but that didn¡¯t help him now. ¡°One castura for a fuck. Five qala for a blowjob or other quickies.¡±


    The two men looked at each other. That was the going rate across most of town, as far as Razia told him. Private escorts and courtesans could afford to charge more, while streetwalkers tended to go for less. This was the happy medium. ¡°And if we, uh, want to share her?¡± Laugh Lines asked.


    Well, that sure was a mental image. ¡°Three castura,¡± said Quentin, meeting Laugh Lines¡¯ eyes. He made a conscious effort to not blink. ¡°One for each of you, and another for wearing my girl out so early in the evening.¡±


    They looked amongst each other, having a silent argument while Quentin sat back and watched. They looked back up to the stage, where the drummer was going in overtime and Jenna had the top of her dress lowered, displaying large creamy tits with light brown nipples. They jiggled with every motion. Her face was flushed and she was laughing as the other girls cheered her on.


    ¡°Okay, that sounds good,¡± Beer Gut said. ¡°Thank you. Mr¡­?¡±


    Quentin sighed internally. ¡°Mr. Q. One more thing. You are to ask her first.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He leveled his stare at the man, drawing on years and years of being uncomfortable for most people to look at. ¡°It¡¯s their choice. If they say no, then it means no. If you keep trying after a no, then I break bones. That goes for any time spent together. No means no.¡±


    His tone never changed from aloof but polite, and maybe that made it worse. Beer Gut and Laugh Lines conferred quietly for all of five seconds before nodding. ¡°Thanks, Mr. Q.¡± They went up the stage, and a few seconds later Jenna hopped off, not bothering to put her dress back. Together, they headed towards the stairs. Right before they headed up Jenna turned to Quentin and winked at him.


    ¡°Already a twofer, huh?¡± Razia was back at his side, quick as a flash. ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Three.¡±


    Razia made an appreciative noise. ¡°She¡¯ll certainly be earning it, but one or two more clients after and she¡¯s probably set for the week if she wants to be.¡±


    Now that Jenna was done, the girls argued over who was going to go up next. Samantha stood up, and Quentin was about to call and tell her to wait just a bit longer, but she pulled Lucy to her feet. Shy little Lucy climbed to the stage. The drummer changed the beat into something slower, while Lucy swayed in place.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be interesting,¡± said Razia. ¡°Lucy does pretty well because she¡¯s young and small. I wouldn¡¯t put her up to perform until she¡¯s more experienced, but maybe she¡¯ll impress us.¡±


    The fact that there was apparently tons of learning and sharing between the girls surprised Quentin, though he supposed it shouldn¡¯t have. There was a lot more to being a whore than just spreading your legs, Razia had told him. She herself had received training from a professional, and she said they all did their best to give each woman the tools she needed to do well. From what he heard, Lucy had a long way to go.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He believed it. The flickering shadows did interesting things across her pale skin. Her simple dress wasn¡¯t as revealing as Jenna¡¯s was, with its plunging neckline, but it didn¡¯t have to. It was tight on her petite body and her unsteady, unconfident movements were less sexy and more cute. It was enough to bring more people to the stage.


    Now there were only a few empty spots on the benches surrounding the mini-stage. There were a number of women among them, and Quentin couldn¡¯t tell if they were patrons who just wanted to find someone to fuck among the others who came here to party or if they were shopping. Samantha remained standing in front of the bench, dancing as well. It was the encouragement Lucy needed; she directed her dancing, more teasing than revealing, to her.


    ¡°Have you seen Isa?¡± Quentin asked, realizing she wasn¡¯t among the others. Razia pointed towards the bar. Isa sat there, chatting up a slender brunette woman. Her hand was on the woman¡¯s thigh. Isa moved it upwards, wearing a smile as the other woman shuddered. Quentin¡¯s main takeaway was good for her. The other was that it was strange to see her smile. ¡°Right, great.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll pay her cut,¡± Razia said.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°I really don¡¯t care if she doesn¡¯t. She¡¯s not beholden to me and she¡¯s free to leave at any time.¡±


    ¡°No, see, that would be quitting and letting you win,¡± Razia laughed.


    ¡°Can¡¯t have that.¡± Quentin took a drink of his water, putting it down as another person showed up.


    This one wasn¡¯t a potential customer. He had the predatory look of another pimp, and was dressed...better(?) than those around him. He wore a dark red leather jacket that would be miserable come summer, and gaudy rings littered his hands. ¡°You new around here?¡± He demanded.


    Quentin caught Razia¡¯s eye. She shrugged and slipped away. He could hear her laughter in his head. He didn¡¯t need her help for this. ¡°Something like that,¡± Quentin drawled. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my stage,¡± he growled.


    ¡°Not right now it isn¡¯t,¡± Quentin returned pleasantly. He faced the man. ¡°Who are you supposed to be?¡±


    He might as well have politely asked the man if he wished to engage in some casual violence. The rival pimp¡¯s face turned red. No doubt he was used to a bit more respect. That wasn¡¯t Quentin¡¯s problem. ¡°Darriq Qorals. How about you get the fuck up and get your skanks off my stage?¡±


    Quentin made a show of yawning. ¡°How about no.¡± He stood up. That¡¯s when Darriq saw how much larger Quentin was. He had at least half a head and forty pounds on the man. ¡°We got here first. How about you take your ladies and go to the last open stage before someone else nabs it?¡± He smiled, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes.


    Darriq laughed and nodded. Quentin saw the punch coming from a mile away. It was nothing to turn out of the way and grab hold of the pimp¡¯s wrist and shoulder and slam him face down onto the table, arm wrenched up until he let out a squeal like a dying lamb. The music stopped.


    Quentin looked around. His girls were watching him. Darriq¡¯s girls were nearby, and they were watching. The entire bar was watching and waiting to see what he¡¯d do. Razia was watching. Quentin grimaced, wondering if he was really about to do what they¡¯d planned. ¡°Here¡¯s your chance to apologize and walk away like nothing happened,¡± he said to Darriq. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you a drink and we¡¯ll laugh about it.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you, you moonkissed son of a AYYYYY --¡± Quentin pulled on the arm until he felt it creak dangerously. Darriq fell silent. It wasn¡¯t violence Quentin liked, it was winning. And the way to win here was to go all out and hurt a man who probably deserved it. Someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt wasn¡¯t innocent by any stretch of the imagination. That didn¡¯t mean Quentin wanted to follow through with it.


    ¡°Last chance,¡± Quentin said. Maybe it was his imagination, but the entire place felt like it was holding its breath.


    Darriq tried to pull away again, but he wasn¡¯t going anywhere so long as that arm was still attached. ¡°F-fuck you,¡± he wheezed again. Quentin tightened his grip on his arm. He could just throw him to the ground, if he wanted to just quit while he was ahead. People might forget about it, but they¡¯d still see it as weakness in a place like this. All Quentin had to do was go for it.


    And be the violent thug his father said he was, before cutting him out of his life entirely. Be just mindless muscle, like Amicus at length claimed him to be. And why not? Quentin killed everyone they put in his path without question. Unlike the Colosseum, this was completely his choice. He looked up and met Razia¡¯s eyes. She shrugged. His choice. She wouldn¡¯t judge him either way. But she was counting on him.


    ¡°Oh well.¡± Quentin wrenched the arm. The sound of the bone snapping was honestly terrible. One of Quentin¡¯s least favorite sounds in the world, and he¡¯d broken a number of (others¡¯) bones in the past. The sound of Darriq¡¯s high pitched scream was more immediately painful, but there it gave him a sick satisfaction. Quentin released him, and Darriq dropped to his knees, cradling his useless arm to him.


    ¡°You,¡± Quentin said to one of the nearby girls that had come with Darriq. ¡°Get a couple of you and get this pissant away from me if you want him to survive.¡± Darriq had six girls. Three of them came up to him and helped him to his feet, whispering soothing words of encouragement. One of them shot him a disgusted, murderous look, but they worked together to drag him away and out of the Twilight Dancer.


    Quentin wasted no time in going up to the bar. People got the fuck out of his way faster than ever. He pulled out some more shards from his bulging purse. If he lost an entire execution¡¯s worth of money that night, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised. He dropped them down on the bar. ¡°Apologies for the commotion,¡± he said to the bartender.


    The bartender stared at him. Without looking away he scooped the shards up. ¡°You going to be trouble?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Only if others come looking for trouble. I have no interest in starting anything.¡±


    The bartender grunted and went back to work as if he wasn¡¯t there. As far as Quentin was concerned, that was good enough for him.


    Back in his temporary territory, a thin, willowy blonde girl stood near his table. She was one of the ones with Darriq. Quentin walked past her and sat down. When she didn¡¯t leave, he said, ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    The girl looked to be about Lucy¡¯s age, which put her at a little too young for Quentin to be entirely comfortable working with. She had her thin arms crossed over a nonexistent chest. ¡°I hope so. Where the hell am I supposed to work now?¡±


    Once more Razia came back to speak up. She was doing a hell of a job letting him get the heat while she managed things. ¡°If you can lose the attitude, you can share our stage. Our cut is a measly¡­¡± Razia led her off to the stage, discussing terms.


    Quentin didn¡¯t have time to get comfortable before a cry got his attention. One of the many men around their stage was standing and had his hands on Lucy¡¯s legs. Quentin was on his feet before he realized it. He went around and put his hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. He squeezed. The man turned to him and did a double take. He released Lucy and sat back down, hands up in surrender. Quentin gave his back a light pat and returned to his seat.


    As silly as it seemed to him, that was all it took. A woman ended up renting Lucy¡¯s time, and they went up to the second of three rooms they booked for the evening. That left Samantha to take the stage. Back at the Silk Lounge, she¡¯d been the star whore. Here in the Twilight Dancer, she proved it. Her lower half and upper half moved as if they were independent of one another. Quentin had no idea that Samantha, or any woman that size, could move so fluidly.


    Before long their stage was packed, and Quentin had more people coming up to him. A woman, who was friendly and wanted to compliment him on dealing with Darriq. Isa, who came by just long enough to throw a handful of qala pieces on the table near Quentin. A few different men who wanted time with Samantha and nearly came to blows over it.


    ¡°Auction,¡± Razia whispered in his ear. Quentin nodded and motioned for her to go for it. She was better at being heard. ¡°The only way to settle this gentleman, is to let your purses doing the talking!¡± Razia got up on stage with Samantha. The redhead hadn¡¯t removed any of her clothing, or even needed to. ¡°Let the bidding start at two castura.¡±


    Two became three became four and ended at 6, provided the client could have some extra time. Quentin was happy to allow as long as Samantha deemed it acceptable. Samantha was, as usual, agreeable. They left together and Quentin had the task of handling money and making notes of who had who much coming to them.


    Razia helped, naturally. They¡¯d brought the little chest, which was easy enough to carry and latch shut. Quentin expected there to be more problems popping up, but...nothing did. Breaking a rival pimp¡¯s arm for trying to hit him kept away trouble for the next couple of hours, and after that the stability he¡¯d bought was self-sustaining. People came up to him with money and a girl they wanted, and Quentin would make it clear they were not to be mistreated. He even ended up being the one to give his blessing for Darriq¡¯s former girl Lynne.


    Three rooms proved to not be enough, so Razia grabbed a fourth. As much as Quentin thought the girls dancing would be distracting, he had too much to keep track of to notice or ogle. There was more bare skin and sex around Quentin than he was normally comfortable with, but it slid right off him. At least until it was just Quentin and Razia there, and Jenna, who very much needed a break after her time upstairs.


    ¡°So what do you think we do here,¡± Razia asked, pointing to the empty stage. The drummer was taking a break, smoking a cigarillo with her back up against it.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d guess that we wait until the girls are back,¡± said Quentin shrugging. ¡°I figure it¡¯s either that or we get more girls. Not exactly sure how to do that.¡±


    Razia put her hand on his arm, stroking it idly. ¡°That¡¯ll happen with time. Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if Lynne asks by the end of the night. She was getting along really well with Samantha. But no, we gotta keep the heat going. If we let the flame die out, we have to start all over again. I think it¡¯s time I get to work.¡±


    The entire night thus far, Razia had flitted back and forth between Quentin and the other girls. She¡¯d taken care of all the administrative stuff that was supposed to be things he did while performing the role. Not only was Razia more knowledgeable (obviously), but she was passionate about it. She truly cared. Now, watching her go up to the stage, Quentin really would be on his own.


    More than that, things were slowing down a bit. There was nothing keeping Quentin from just watching her. And judging from the smile on her face as she ascended the stage, Razia was counting on it. The drummer quickly put her smoke out and stood to confer. Razia whispered in her ear, and they came to an agreement.


    Suddenly, he was too far away in his aloof seat at the table. Quentin desperately wanted to be right there at the stage with everyone else, but he couldn¡¯t move. He could barely breathe. As the beat, a complex stop and go sound, started up, Razia spread her arms and bowed.


    She raised up quickly, arms above her head and her hips gyrating slowly. She wore a tight, short top that left her midriff bare and she showed off the silver piercing through her bellybutton. It was there Quentin found himself staring as Razia rolled her hips, slowly and teasingly until she reversed direction and was shaking her ass so quickly it bounced.


    His heart pounded in his chest. Ever since he¡¯d first met the strange islander woman with the shaved head, he¡¯d been enamored. There was no denying that. Razia wasn¡¯t the most beautiful woman Quentin had ever seen, or any nonsense like that. She was striking, and something about the way she smiled, the way she moved, her confidence, pulled at him. Constantly, inexorably making him want to get closer, almost silencing out the horrible whispers in the back of his mind whenever he thought too much about her.


    Seeing that the stage was occupied, stragglers came back. There was no one there who looked even remotely like Razia. The one other islander Quentin saw had dozens of tight braids, going down to her ass. Razia was unencumbered by braids. She was bare, open and begging to be seen by everyone. And with a smooth motion she undid and pulled off her top. Looking over her shoulder, right into Quentin¡¯s eyes she threw it backwards at him.


    The rest of the Twilight Dancer melted away. Someone could¡¯ve come up and shanked Quentin and he wouldn¡¯t have noticed. As much time as they¡¯d spent together over the last couple of weeks, he¡¯d never seen this much of her. Quentin found himself wanting more. She turned, and his eyes immediately went to her chest. Her breasts were small, but the dark nipples were pierced through with silver bars. Quentin shivered.


    Razia didn¡¯t have to do much to get the crowd howling for her. The simple roils of her pelvis, her hands caressing her chest and teasing her hard nipples, her sly, wicked smile at those she made eye contact with; they did it all and then some. Quentin was suddenly grateful for the distance. Others weren¡¯t hiding their arousal. One man reached out for her.


    Quentin slammed his fist down on the table. Those nearest to him flinched, including the would-be groper. He sat back down and behaved himself. Razia met his gaze, and Quentin froze. What was that in her eyes? It was almost like her usual playfulness, but there was something sharper there, something Quentin couldn¡¯t quite recognize. She smiled and bowed her head to him before turning away, performing for the crowd. That was when Quentin understood: that dance wasn¡¯t for them, it was for him. He downed his water, swallowing hard.


    ¡°She¡¯s good, isn¡¯t she?¡± Samantha had come back and joined Quentin at the table. She had a pleased but tired look on her face. ¡°And those piercings. When I first saw those, I...You okay, Mr. Q?¡±


    Quentin grunted and unclenched his hands. Frustration would do no one any good, but he didn¡¯t see it ending anytime soon. ¡°Yeah. Fine. Just a bit of a headache.¡±


    Razia hopped off the stage, still topless and came over to their table with a man in tow. Quentin fought to keep his eyes on hers. She knew, and he could see amusement on her face. ¡°This kind gentleman wants to fuck me,¡± she said to him. ¡°Any objections?¡±


    Quentin had a million. He took a deep breath. ¡°You know the rules?¡± he directed at the eager looking young man Razia had by the hand.


    ¡°Yessir,¡± he replied. ¡°No means no, and you¡¯ll break my arm if I push.¡± His eyes remained locked on Razia.


    ¡°Good. Then...go.¡± Quentin made a shooing motion. Razia wasn¡¯t fooled. When she took her client towards the stairs, there was an extra sway in her step. She stopped for one last infuriatingly teasing look before they climbed up the stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna wait a bit until I dance again, Mr. Q. Is that okay?¡± Samantha asked him. He nodded, only half hearing her words.


    This is who Razia was. Quentin had no issues with what she did, or who she did it with. But for the first time since meeting her, there was an unfamiliar ache inside him. He brushed it off. There was still plenty of night to go and despite the ache, he was enjoying himself.


    He¡¯d thrown himself into the deep end and went for it instead of hiding in his home and doing nothing all night. Ache or not, he could be proud of trying. And this was just the first of many. Maybe one of those times, he¡¯d do something about that ache.

 Chapter 34: Writ of Execution

    Chapter 34: Writ of Execution


    When Quentin woke that morning, he had no idea just how bad his day would be. When he first got up around midday, it was with thoughts of their successful night out, and Quentin was happy. Better than happy, he was content. Everything went about as smoothly as he could expect it. Even breaking a rival¡¯s arm hadn¡¯t come with immediate repercussions. There were no friends that showed up for vengeance, though Quentin knew that didn¡¯t mean there wouldn¡¯t be in the future. Quentin played a part well, and the girls who were now counting on him thrived. He could be proud of that.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he said to Razia as he stepped out of his bedroom. She was already sprawled on the couch and reading one of his old books. He really needed to get more furniture in there. ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    Razia let the book fall forward on her chest. Looking up, she favored him with a cheeky grin. ¡°Quite well after the workout. What about you? You turned in early when we got back.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s breath caught in his chest. He willed his face to stay pale. Don¡¯t give her the satisfaction, Quentin. Don¡¯t do it. Something had changed between them last night. He¡¯d just been getting used to her teasing and now he didn¡¯t dare look her in the eye when she was smiling at him like that. ¡°I had a lot on my mind. Thinking to the future.¡±


    ¡°Ahh,¡± Razia sat up, looking more wicked by the second. ¡°Thinking ahead to future problems, huh. Did you get a good grip on any solutions?¡±


    All of his restraint failed him and his face burned. Of course she knew. He walked past her to the kitchen, grumbling to himself as he slapped breakfast together. He ate it sullenly in the kitchen, not giving Razia the satisfaction of teasing him further. He was most of the way done when she peeked her head into the kitchen and said, ¡°You¡¯ve got mail. From the Colosseum, I think.¡±


    They were just about the only ones who did send him mail. Every now and then the temples sent messages asking for donations or inviting him to one of the festival events they ran. Mostly though, it was just the Colosseum sending him news of who was to die next. Quentin set his bowl down and took the envelope from Razia.


    His name was written in tall, looping letters. It was sealed with wax, with the letters ATB standing out. Yes, there was no mistaking this. Quentin opened the letter, knowing what he would find..


    Attention! By decree of his Imperial Majesty Emperor Caragalla,


    It was there that the letter¡¯s formatting changed to something less elegant and more hurried.


    Quintius, we¡¯ve found the final two people for the Blooming. Get your ass here for a briefing. And leave your sympathy at home. These people are going to die and there¡¯s nothing you can do to stop it. Be here by the end of the day.


    Quentin handed it to an obviously curious Razia. She read it, nose wrinkling in irritation. ¡°Does he always talk to you like this?¡±


    ¡°Not always,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Sometimes there¡¯s other people around and he pretends he isn¡¯t a piece of shit. But mostly it¡¯s a lot of this. Strictly speaking, I don¡¯t have to go to the Colosseum every day. I only need to show up when I¡¯m summoned with a writ of execution. But sometimes, like for the Blooming special event coming up, he wants me in to talk details.¡±


    Razia handed the letter back. ¡°So they¡¯re really going to make you fight four people at once? Not that I don¡¯t think you can¡¯t do it,¡± she added, ¡°just seems like a lot.¡±


    Quentin put his bowl in the sink to soak. ¡°I guarantee you there¡¯s maybe two of them that are dangerous. The other two are just to pad things out, maybe soak up the audience¡¯s sympathy or hatred. I don¡¯t know how this event is going to go. I guess that¡¯s what today¡¯s for. To talk it out and give instructions to everyone involved. Doesn¡¯t usually matter to me. I show up and kill prisoners and people pretend I¡¯m not there.¡±


    He stiffened when he felt Razia¡¯s arms circle around him and squeeze him. ¡°Well, you have at least half a dozen people who care that you¡¯re there and won¡¯t pretend otherwise,¡± she said. She tugged on his tunic and drew him out of the kitchen and back into the open main room. ¡°Speaking of...How are you doing today? Any regrets?¡±


    Immediately, he said, ¡°I feel a bit bad about breaking that man¡¯s arm. Sort of. He took a swing at me and was being rude, and we needed to make a statement, but part of me can¡¯t help but think that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time for him and just perfect for what we needed. What if he comes back with friends?¡±


    Razia nodded sympathetically. ¡°I believe it was the right move. If he comes back with friends he comes back with friends, but he won¡¯t be doing a damned thing to you for a few weeks at least. You didn¡¯t just hurt him, Quentin. You made him look weak. His pride might call for vengeance, but people aren¡¯t going to take him quite as seriously. Especially if we keep going.


    ¡°If you want to keep going.¡± Razia stopped there, biting her lip while thinking. ¡°I know this is a lot for you. But did you like it?¡±


    That was the question. Honestly, Quentin wasn¡¯t entirely sure. Everything went swimmingly, but that didn¡¯t mean there wouldn¡¯t be bumps in the future. Going all out on the first night had been a test of sorts, to try to make that happen. The way Quentin saw it, if he was going to try it, he¡¯d try to make it as ugly as possible. If he could make it through that, he could make it through anything. Now?


    ¡°All I did was sit around and look menacing. The couple of times I had to do anything, it was intimidating people.¡± Quentin frowned. ¡°I feel like I shouldn¡¯t like it. But it¡¯s not like I was killing anyone. I was just keeping an eye out for all of you, and hurting a bastard who would¡¯ve hurt me if he had the chance. It feels like¡­¡±


    How did it feel? Razia didn¡¯t interrupt his thoughts as he searched within himself for answers. Even speaking to Razia on a regular basis hadn¡¯t undone a decade of isolation and not having to answer to anyone. It was weird for his introspection to be thorough instead of just beating up on himself. ¡°It almost feels like it¡¯s more fair than the Colosseum. I¡¯m not killing people, but I¡¯ll issue out beatings to those who deserve it. But it lacked the thrill of fighting for my life.¡±


    Razia¡¯s grin stretched from ear to ear. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find you a few thrills along the way.¡±


    Quentin sighed. He wasn¡¯t sure if he regretted bringing up their weird relationship. Now that he did, she was playing with him constantly. Never pushing too far or making an overt offer, but with him acknowledging his infatuation he was now fair game to tease. That it didn¡¯t feel like the kind of cruel teasing he grew up with was the only reason he didn¡¯t beg her to stop. Maybe not the only reason.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can. Samantha looks up to some fun.¡± Quentin burst out laughing at the surprised look on Razia¡¯s face.


    ¡°Should I tell her you said that?¡± she asked with laughter of her own.


    Quentin shook his head, smiling. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    His stomach fluttered with a sudden idea of what to say. He followed it, feeling equal parts fear and excitement. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Not until you get me first.¡±


    Razia¡¯s mouth formed a surprised O before she laughed with delight. ¡°Oh Quentin,¡± she said, sighing theatrically. ¡°I¡¯m not the jealous type. Before, after, it makes no difference to me. Might make her day though.¡±


    ¡°Okay, you win,¡± Quentin said. He crumpled up the note in his hand and tossed it into the shallow pool. ¡°I should probably go as soon as possible though. Amicus will be pissy with me whether it¡¯s now or later, so I should just get it over with.¡±


    Her eyes lit up. ¡°Excellent timing, then. I have a present for you. Gimme just a second.¡± Razia ran to her room, leaving Quentin wondering what it could be, and why he could possibly deserve a present. She came back a minute later with a small wooden box on hinges.


    ¡°I know you have trouble seeing, especially during the day,¡± she said, fiddling with the box. ¡°And I happened to find a solution for you that might help with your appearance too. How you present yourself, I mean.¡±


    Quentin raised an eyebrow.


    Razia laughed, ¡°I¡¯m not calling you ugly. Just saying that there¡¯s a huge difference between hiding from people and holding your head up high and...Just take it.¡± She pushed the box into his hands.


    Quentin opened the box. His throat tightened. Inside were a pair of black spectacles on a wire frame. Carefully, he pulled the spectacles out and unfolded them. Once upon a time, Quentin had considered visiting a physician and seeing if spectacles would help. He hadn¡¯t, for the same reason he didn¡¯t get regular check ups or drink less: he didn¡¯t expect to be around long enough for it to matter. He carefully tried them on, feeling the frames sort of stretch around his head. It wasn¡¯t a perfect fit, but¡­


    But Quentin could see. Not all the way. By nature the black spectacles made everything dimmer, but looking around his home Quentin could see details from further away than before. Individual tiles of a mosaic on the wall, instead of the thousands of tiny tiles appearing as cohesive as a painting from afar from the blur. Razia stood there, waiting for a reaction from him.


    He didn¡¯t give her one. Quentin walked right past her and headed towards the garden. He stepped outside among the flowers and a couple of edible plants he grew, blinking in amazement as he realized he could see them. Through a blackened tint of the world, but they weren¡¯t just shadows to him. Outside the gates to his house, he could see the other houses. They were still a bit blurry at their distance, but he could see them.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Asked Razia, from behind him.


    Wordlessly, Quentin turned around. Razia looked up into his face, casual smile shrinking as he looked at her. Quick as a flash he closed the distance between them and wrapped her up in a tight hug. She let out a squeal as Quentin picked her up and squeezed. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± he said thickly. He swallowed a lump in his throat. ¡°This is a good gift. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome,¡± Razia said laughing as he set her back down. ¡°They look good on you. Fierce. Hides who you¡¯re looking at and what you¡¯re thinking. Perfect for the inscrutable Mr. Q.¡±


    Quentin made a face. ¡°Inscrutable now, huh? Thank you, Razia. I love it.¡± And he very badly wanted to show her how much. It was a quick impulse, there and gone again. What if he kissed her? He shook the thought out of his head. ¡°This was perfect timing. This¡¯ll make the walk to the Colosseum much less painful.¡±


    ¡°Anytime,¡± she said.


    And it did. With his new cloak and spectacles, Quentin walked through Orchrisus in the middle of the afternoon with his head held high. He wasn¡¯t hiding, then. He was taking up space and being a bit of a spectacle as he pushed his way through the crowded and winding streets leading up north to the Colosseum.


    ¡°Hot treats and cold drinks, here to make your day better! You sir, come and have a snack and a drink, I¡¯ve got the best price around for jellied grubs!¡± Even the vendors were paying attention to him now instead of just letting him walk by. It was obnoxious and he didn¡¯t care for it, but damned if he didn¡¯t almost stop for a snack, just to celebrate. He resisted, promising himself something later as a treat for dealing with Amicus.


    Overall, the walk to work was better than it had been in years. Quentin showed up to the Colosseum in a good mood. He smiled at the man guarding the employee¡¯s entrance in the back, getting a grunted greeting in return. Even the people inside didn¡¯t completely ignore him this time, though many of them didn¡¯t seem to recognize him at first without his cloak or the skull mask covering his face. This really was the best gift ever.


    He wasted no time in making his way up to the top of the Colosseum, stopping and knocking at Amicus¡¯ door. ¡°Enter,¡± Amicus shouted. Quentin came in, closing the door behind him and standing at attention, not saying a thing.


    Amicus was reading a scroll and didn¡¯t look up for a few seconds. When he did, he scoffed and returned to the scroll. ¡°You look ridiculous. What happened to the covered up corpse look? At least that way I didn¡¯t have to look directly at you.¡±


    There was no point in getting mad at Amicus. Quentin told himself that every time he started to get sick of the treatment. It was easier to just let it slide and go about his work. That didn¡¯t mean, however, that he didn¡¯t dream of one good solid punch to show Amicus how he felt. All he did was shrug and say, ¡°Sorry to inconvenience you. You wanted to see me?¡±


    Sighing, Amicus gestured to one of the chairs in front of him. Quentin remained standing. As far as defiance went it was the bare minimum, but it was better than nothing. Amicus put the scroll down and said, ¡°We¡¯ve got all four condemned prisoners down in the hold and ready to go. The Savant, the rapist, a gangster and a thief.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got several things in store that night. The first is a short concert, played by a popular band that¡¯s been making waves. They¡¯ll be at it for about an hour, playing songs from The Death of the Blooming Rose and The Pierced Heart¡¯s Kiss, as well as some upbeat festival songs. The type that¡¯ll hype up the peons and get them good and eager for the action to come.¡±


    That was all fairly standard. First play a few winter songs and then play a few songs from the play about the coming of Spring, where the Daystar and found solace in the Pierced Heart¡¯s arms. Spring and Autumn were the Pierced Heart¡¯s seasons, perpetually in between the twins of life and death. Orchrisus was the Pierced Heart¡¯s favored city, and the Blooming and Heartfall festivals were biggest there.


    ¡°Next,¡± continued Amicus, ¡°we¡¯ll have an exhibition match of some of our gladiators. They¡¯ll be fighting on the stage we¡¯re building on top of the arena. It¡¯ll be the Orchrisan Military versus Ramali Rebels, and they¡¯ll put on a good show and entertain the guests before the main event.¡±


    ¡°What if the rebels win this time?¡± Quentin asked.


    Amicus looked at him as if he was stupid. ¡°The teams are stacked. If the Ramali win, then some crackpots win long odds and walk away happy. Maybe they spend a bunch here before going home to drink themselves to death. It¡¯s irrelevant. After that will be the main attraction. You¡¯re going to kill four degenerate criminals in the Emperor¡¯s honor, and you¡¯ll make a proper show of it.


    ¡°The arena¡¯s going to be transformed into a maze. You and the four prisoners will be armed, and it will be up to you to hunt them down through the maze and kill them. They¡¯ll be using the maze and each other to try to gang up on you and kill you. You think you¡¯ll be able to manage that?¡± Amicus could make even the most innocuous sentences sound dismissive.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be a problem,¡± said Quentin, suppressing a sigh. ¡°Will there be any restrictions or requests on weapons?¡±


    Amicus grunted. ¡°The prisoners will have spears. You¡¯re going to be using a mace. A special mace, commissioned by the Emperor in honor of his fortieth year of rule.¡±


    A mace while his opponents got spears? It was official, Amicus really was trying to kill him. A match like that and all they would have to do is surround him and poke him to death while he slowly weakened from the blood loss. If he was lucky then he¡¯d be able to down a few of them, at least the Savant, and succumb to his wounds after. Was that Amicus¡¯ plan for retiring him? Get what he wanted, leave Quentin to die at the end? The fucker would probably pocket Quentin¡¯s ten percent too.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± said Quentin. If nothing else, this would give him a direction to take his training. Demetrius would absolutely love to get on his ass about proper defense. He¡¯d at least commiserate with Quentin and maybe go on another rant about him quitting while he still had life in him. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, I¡¯ll go inspect the prisoners.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Amicus said, sighing. ¡°I meant it when I said there are to be no courtesies, no qualms of conscience or any other such nonsense. I¡¯m reminding you again because one of the condemned is a woman, and we can¡¯t have you getting precious over that.¡±


    Irritation finally made Quentin heat up. ¡°I¡¯ve executed female prisoners before, Amicus. That¡¯s not a problem.¡±


    Amicus shrugged thick, stubby arms. ¡°I¡¯ve no way of knowing what¡¯s going to tug at your heartstrings and what won¡¯t. Inspect them if you must, but nothing else. No giving them extra rations, for example.¡± The look in his eyes was frosty.


    Quentin paused. He wasn¡¯t surprised the guards sold him out, but so far Amicus was just warning him, not chewing his ass out about it. Maybe this really was a warning. He nodded and left the office before Amicus could say anything else. Closing the door, he let out a long, weary sigh. ¡°Gods I hate that man,¡± he said.


    Even Amicus couldn¡¯t get him down. Quentin was happy, dammit, and he was going to continue to be. No matter how hard Amicus tried to get him to quit or die fighting, Quentin would overcome it and continue to be a pain in the ass. That thought made him even happier as he descended down the Colosseum again and headed towards the locker room.


    Just like he didn¡¯t have to show up at the Colosseum each day, Quentin didn¡¯t really have to wear his armor and mask when he went to deal with the prisoners. None of them were going to get a reprieve unless the Emperor had a sudden change of heart that contradicted the last twenty years. They weren¡¯t going to say who he was to loved ones unless Quentin let them.


    But it gave them a chance to get used to their impending death, and to get used to Quentin. If they¡¯d only seen him the day of the execution and no other time, it would just be cruel and callous. So long as Quentin was the executioner, he had no intentions to be either if he didn¡¯t have to be. He already had to harden his heart to survive, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to go full heart of stone. That really would be like already being dead.


    Demetrius caught up with him in the locker room, as he was finishing putting on his chest piece. ¡°You¡¯re really not going to be happy about the prisoners,¡± he said, all but collapsing onto the bench next to Quentin. ¡°Just warning you ahead of time.¡±


    ¡°Good to see you too, Demetrius,¡± Quentin said, clasping his armor on. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thanks for asking.¡±


    The older man rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, hi. Great to see you got out of being arrested. I¡¯m guessing your whore friend -- ¡°


    ¡°Her name is Razia,¡± Quentin said patiently. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you don¡¯t like her, but you know her name, Use it.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m guessing your friend Razia was able to get the Arbiter to bail you out like she said she would. How¡¯d she manage that?¡±


    Quentin grabbed his helmet and put it on. ¡°She went to his house and asked him nicely to help me. He nicely helped me. Then we went home and had a long talk about things. We¡¯re good now. Look, are you still willing to give me extra training? Amicus intends to give me a mace and put me up against four spears.¡±


    Just as predicted, Demetrius¡¯ face turned an interesting shade of red. ¡°He fucking what.¡±


    ¡°I think you might be onto something with him trying to kill me,¡± said Quentin lightly. ¡°The arena¡¯s getting turned into a maze and we¡¯re going to be hunting each other.¡±


    Demetrius¡¯ hands opened and closed like he was trying to strangle somebody who wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll figure out something to prepare you for it. You¡¯re not going to die on my watch. But¡­¡± He looked uncomfortable once more. ¡°You¡¯re not going to be happy about the prisoners, Quentin.¡±


    Quentin stood up, holding the mask. ¡°So you¡¯ve said.¡± He already wasn¡¯t happy. The child rapist would be no big deal to kill, and he would enjoy fighting the Savant. But if the thief was who Quentin thought it was, Quentin would gain no pleasure from killing him. The last Quentin had seen Peter, he¡¯d been in the cart about to be transported to the Colosseum. He imagined the kid was waiting for him even now. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± He put the mask on.


    Demetrius looked like he wanted to say more. His mouth worked but no sound came out. Eventually he just frowned. The executioner waited another few seconds before shrugging it off. ¡°After I get a look at them and do a quick appraisal of how I expect them to perform, I¡¯ll meet you in the practice yard.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said Demetrius. ¡°See you there.¡±


    Now that he was back in his proper uniform, people resumed giving the executioner the usual healthy space. He didn¡¯t mind it this time. When he got home, there would be people happy to see him. Maybe that would make the job more worth it. The executioner whistled as he made his way down to the holding cells.


    Like usual, the guards unlocked the door and got out of his way. ¡°He¡¯s still being a nightmare,¡± one of them said to him.


    The executioner nodded and entered the room. Not much had changed since the last time he was there, other than two more cells being occupied. There were two guards in here as well, playing cards until he entered. The sound of sobbing in the corner was familiar, almost welcome.


    ¡°Welcome back Quentin,¡± Kassim sneered from his pen.


    ¡°Kassim,¡± the executioner returned evenly. ¡°Did Amicus really revert you back to half rations? I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°Like hell you are,¡± he hissed. The guards behind the executioner shifted uncomfortably. ¡°They never gave me more rations. Not once. They¡¯ve been starving me so you have an easier time killing me. That¡¯s the justice you¡¯re fighting for. Imperial cruelty.¡±


    The executioner sighed. ¡°I¡¯m genuinely sorry, Kassim. You¡¯ve been a bastard to me, but I genuinely want you to be comfortable in your final days.¡± Even if the fucker did piss on him. That awful day got better later. The executioner could put up with just about anything Kassim sent his way now.


    ¡°Fuck you, Quentin,¡± Kassim said, turning away from him. Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was disgust, but there were no copies wandering the room, making noise. He actually seemed subdued there, and it turned the executioner¡¯s stomach.


    The sobbing stopped. ¡°W-wait,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said. A familiar woman¡¯s voice. ¡°Quentin?¡± She stood up in her cell.


    Quentin¡¯s entire world turned upside down. He gripped the back of a guard¡¯s chair to support himself. Inside the cell, staring at him with tearstained eyes, was his friend Maria. He had to execute warm, motherly Maria.

 Chapter 35: Mercy

    Chapter 35: Mercy


    Once, when Quentin was only twenty two, his father had asked him a question.


    ¡°You think this job is perfect? What happens when you have to kill someone you know? What¡¯ll you do then, Quentin?¡± This was shortly before they¡¯d stopped speaking entirely, and it never quite left Quentin¡¯s mind. Every time he saw a new writ of execution, there was a small part of him that wondered if it would be someone he knew once upon a time, or someone he heard of.


    Ten years Quentin went without ever executing someone he knew. So of course his luck turned around and gave him not one, but two people he was intimately familiar with. Maria stared from behind the bars with disbelief and horror, while right in the cell next to her was Philus. Somehow, Peter hadn¡¯t been the one taken to the Colosseum after all.


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be shitting me,¡± said Philus, gripping the bars. ¡°There¡¯s no way.¡±


    Quentin took off his helmet. Everyone was looking at him, including the guards. But they didn¡¯t matter now. Then again, Quentin had no idea what was important. His brain still hadn¡¯t recovered from the shock, and he looked between the two of them slack jawed. This was impossible. This was ludicrous. This was really happening.


    From his spot in the corner, Kassim let out a bark of laughter. ¡°Oh, oh this is just too rich,¡± he said, holding his sides as the laughter kept coming. ¡°Poor, poor Quentin has to kill his friends.¡±


    Philus¡¯ reaction was immediate. He turned and jabbed a finger through the bars at Kassim. ¡°We are not friends. This son of a bitch killed my best friend.¡±


    From beneath his outstretched finger, Graham Calhoun laid in the straw. He smacked his lips lazily and said, ¡°Could you all keep it down? I¡¯m trying to nap.¡±


    Of course, that was when everyone started talking all at once.


    ¡°I knew you were just a common killer, and --¡±


    ¡°...this can¡¯t be happening. Quentin I¡¯m scared, --¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you need to tell me --¡±


    ¡°I swear to the gods I¡¯ll have my revenge.¡±


    The nearest guard drew her club from her belt and slammed it against the bars near Philus¡¯ head. All of them, including Quentin, shut their mouths. The guard looked around, obviously surprised it worked. ¡°Keep it down, all of you. ALL of you,¡± she directed right at Quentin.


    Quentin¡¯s blood boiled. ¡°I know you¡¯re not talking to me like that,¡± he said in a low voice. None of the guards dared talk to him like that. And he damned sure wasn¡¯t going to put up with it when he was this upset.


    ¡°Deal with it, Butcher. Or Quentin, I guess,¡± the guard sneered. Her partner looked away, uncomfortable. ¡°We¡¯ve got orders straight from Amicus, telling us to treat you as a potential security risk. We¡¯ve got our eyes on you.¡±


    Anger was good. Anger was better than the lingering confusion and growing horror at the situation. Quentin drew himself to his full height and scowled at the woman. To her credit, she stood her ground. She didn¡¯t look happy about it, but she didn¡¯t move. ¡°These prisoners are my responsibility,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Amicus may own the Colosseum but he does not own me or the position. Have this woman brought up to my office.¡±


    The guard frowned. ¡°That¡¯s the exact opposite of what I was told to do. It¡¯s not happening.¡± She kept her grip on her club tight, like she might be inclined to use it on him next. Quentin growled and turned away from her. He was about ready to crack skulls here, but she wasn¡¯t the place to start. He got up close to the pen with Maria.


    ¡°You need to tell me what happened,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to do whatever I can to get you out of here, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that nice?¡± Kassim drawled. ¡°You¡¯re perfectly fine with offing us until it¡¯s someone you care about, and then you¡¯ll try to bend the rules to save them? You¡¯re garbage, Quentin.¡± This time he did manifest a copy, a much healthier looking version of Kassim shimmered into existence, pointing and laughing at him.


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± said Quentin to Maria. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Maria¡¯s eyes darted wildly from person to person. The holding cells were rarely this full and that much noise in a small space would drive anyone up the wall, let alone someone already terrified out of her wits. She wet her lips and managed to get out, ¡°Th-th-the merchant I was with. My new patron. His wife found out about me, and she flipped.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound so bad. ¡°So what happened after that?¡± Quentin pressed.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to save her,¡± Philus said, clinging to the bars. ¡°She¡¯s going to die in here. I¡¯m gonna die too, but I promise you I¡¯ll make sure she does.¡± Maria let out a squeak and moved away from his side of the cell. Bars separated them, but she wasn¡¯t quite out of reach.


    ¡°Shut up, Philus,¡± said Quentin. ¡°One word is all it¡¯ll taken to have you beaten until you can¡¯t do much more than whimper.¡± He glanced at the guard. ¡°That still allowed, or is that a security risk too?¡±


    She tilted her head to the side in consideration. ¡°I¡¯ll allow it,¡± she said. ¡°If only because I can tell this one¡¯s gonna be a shit. Gonna be a toothless shit if he¡¯s not careful.¡± She flashed a fierce grin at Phil, who looked away from her.


    Quentin took the opportunity to focus on Maria again. ¡°What happened after that, Maria? Why did you get sentenced to death?¡±


    Maria still looked crushed and scared, but she drew herself up and took a deep breath. ¡°He had me wearing her jewels,¡± she said. ¡°Wanted to see how I looked in them. Said I reminded him of his wife before she turned cold.¡± She let out a bitter laugh at that. ¡°I¡¯m too old to keep up with the girls but I¡¯m young enough to look like his wife did. I never should¡¯ve taken him on.¡±


    ¡°Focus,¡± said Quentin gently. ¡°You were wearing her jewels. What happened next?¡±


    She composed herself again. ¡°She came in. He had to hide me, so he slipped me outside. His wife realized the jewels were missing and called him on it. He lied and said he had no idea what happened. So his wife called the guards, and they caught me. Quentin, he pretended like he didn¡¯t know me! So they called the Watch and had me taken away.¡±


    All of it made sense, as far as he could see it. Quentin couldn¡¯t picture lying like that, throwing another person out to the dunewallas just to get out of trouble. But one thing wasn¡¯t adding up. ¡°But sentencing you to death is ridiculous,¡± he said. ¡°Even if they were trying to send anybody. They got the jewelry back, I¡¯m assuming. Why were you sentenced to death?¡±


    ¡°Because Orchrisus is a shithole and they¡¯ll put people to death for any reason,¡± Kassim said from his cell.


    Quentin couldn¡¯t deny it.


    Maria sighed. ¡°They were very old jewels. And she belonged to one of the city¡¯s first families,¡± she said.


    If Quentin could¡¯ve paled, he would have. That changed things. One third of their government was made up of officials elected from the masses, one third was the Emperor himself, and the final third were the heads of the oldest families in Orchrisus. Those who had been there since before the formation of the city, back when they were refugees fleeing the Scions and heading to the desert for safety.


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    Orchrisus was not a fair place. Quentin knew first hand how true that was. The rules surrounding the first families were even more unfair than normal. For their part in building their nation, they were shielded by the law more than any other citizen. Their businesses paid less in taxes, their historical artifacts and property given greater weight and importance than anything else save the Pierced Heart¡¯s Temple and the holy relics inside.


    Stealing priceless old jewels from one of them was grounds for death if the family pushed for it. Quentin didn¡¯t need to be told the rest. The merchant¡¯s wife pushed for it. As a punishment for her philandering husband, and a punishment to the whore who dared touched what was hers. ¡°What was the merchant¡¯s name?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°If you give me the name, I think we can do something about this.¡±


    Maybe. Gods, he hoped they could do something about it. Things weren¡¯t looking too good so far. Maria¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Do you think so? I¡¯m scared, Quentin.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared, Quentin,¡± Phil mocked, pressing his face through the bars. Without looking Quentin slammed his hand against Phil¡¯s nose, eliciting a cry of pain from him. He fell back, looking up at the executioner balefully.


    ¡°I know, Maria. I¡¯m going to get you out of this, one way or another.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it seemed to help her calm down. ¡°His name is Roberto Rossi,¡± she said. ¡°He specializes in spices and dyes. He¡¯s got caravans moving in and out of the city, supplying restaurants and clothiers. He¡¯s big.¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll go take care of this.¡± He set out to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. The guards jumped to attention, pulling out their weapons. Quentin held a hand to stall them. He took Maria¡¯s hand in his and squeezed.


    ¡°Quentin...My daughter Tricia. She doesn¡¯t know. Please, you need to get her somewhere safe. Take her to her grandmother, please.¡± Crap, Quentin had forgotten about Tricia. He¡¯d never gotten the chance to meet her, but Maria talked about her every night they¡¯d hung out, and eventually he¡¯d taken to asking after her.


    ¡°Where do you live?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°I give you my word she¡¯ll be safe.¡±


    All in all, Quentin wasn¡¯t quite sure what he was feeling. There was anger there, and plenty of it. But it wasn¡¯t quite rage. There was sadness, and a healthy dose of fear, and worst of all, helplessness. The helplessness made him feel like a hypocrite. All of his prisoners were helpless. That¡¯s what they dealt with, day in and day out, when they were sentenced with death. Never before had he had to deal with the same helplessness.


    He found he hated it, and anger was the easier emotion to feel. It was anger that led him back up to Amicus¡¯ office, storming past people who rushed to get out of the way. Quentin had forgotten his helmet down in the holding cells and nothing was covering his expression of utter frustration and contempt. He didn¡¯t bother knocking this time. Quentin opened the door and barged right in.


    ¡°The hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Amicus demanded, dropping the shards he¡¯d been counting on the desk. Seeing the look on Quentin¡¯s face, he flinched. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a problem with one of the prisoners,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I know her in my personal life. And I will not be killing her, no matter what.¡±


    It took a few words for his words to settle in, but when they did Amicus let out a dark laugh. ¡°You think it¡¯s that simple? Who gives a shit if you know her? She¡¯s sentenced to die, so she¡¯ll die. Or you¡¯ll be -- ¡°


    ¡°Yes yes, I¡¯ll be replaced,¡± Quentin snapped, slamming his fist on the expensive desk. ¡°Find a new line you bloated sack of shit.¡± Realizing what he said, Quentin¡¯s blood turned to ice. There was no going back from it, so he might as well go forward. ¡°If you could¡¯ve replaced me you would¡¯ve done it by now. Why don¡¯t you just admit that there¡¯s nothing you can do about me?¡±


    Amicus¡¯ expression turned ugly. He narrowed his beady dark eyes at Quentin, sneering. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say there¡¯s nothing.¡± He folded his hands together, putting on a false smile. ¡°I may not be able to throw you out of here, but I could make your life miserable, Quintius.¡±


    That made him laugh, a dark and cynical sound. ¡°What the hell can you possibly do that you haven¡¯t been doing for the last five years? No, this is what¡¯s going to happen Amicus.¡± Quentin didn¡¯t know where this courage was coming from, but he suspected he was finally just too fed up to put up with Amicus¡¯ shit. ¡°I¡¯m going to perform the executions as normal. I¡¯ll kill the savant, the child rapist, and Philus, and then we¡¯ll show a bit of mercy by letting one of them go. The crowd will go nuts for it and wonder if it¡¯s possible to happen again.¡±


    Amicus stroked his many chins. ¡°Or I can just have Cervenka kill her.¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°We both know that as good as he is, he won¡¯t survive the Blooming fight. He¡¯s not that good. The Savant will get him.¡±


    Quentin sighed. This wasn¡¯t a negotiation. ¡°Unless you agree to my terms, I¡¯ll walk away. I don¡¯t care anymore. I¡¯ve got enough money to retire and I¡¯m still in good health. I could just leave and you¡¯ll be left without a competent executioner for the Blooming. I don¡¯t even need you to agree to this, I¡¯ll take it to the Supreme Arbiter. He¡¯ll be happy to agree to it if it means the event goes smoothly.¡±


    Amicus fell silent. His face was bright red, and he was breathing hard. He shifted his injured leg off the pillow and sat up as tall as he could make himself. ¡°You realize that even if you did have this kind of sway, the moment the Blooming is over you¡¯re expendable again? You really willing to give up your job just to save her life?¡±


    That was the real question. He didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡°Absolutely. She¡¯s not done anything near bad enough to be worth putting her to death. This isn¡¯t justice, this is --¡±


    ¡°Alright alright,¡± Amicus waved him off with a disgusted look on his face. ¡°Save the sentimental shit for someone else. You¡¯ve got me over a barrel. Fine, Quintius. Kill the rest of them, and you won¡¯t have to kill the whore. You happy? Yes? Get the fuck out of my office.¡±


    Quentin left, mildly satisfied with himself. He¡¯d done it. He finally spoke up against Amicus and he came out on top. That didn¡¯t mean he was stupid enough to trust Amicus to hold to his side of the deal. Quentin was going to do everything he could to get Maria out of this, but the rest was something he couldn¡¯t handle on his own. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to telling Razia about this.


    She knew something was wrong as soon as he got home. As soon as he walked in the door, she came out of her room, all smiles. The smile faded when she saw the condition he was in. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she said.


    He had the entire four mile walk home to think about how he was going to broach this and still Quentin drew a blank. Rather than argue with himself over the best way to do it, he just sighed and said, ¡°I found Maria. At the Colosseum.¡±


    It took her a second, but when it sunk in Razia¡¯s face fell. ¡°What? How?¡±


    Haltingly, Quentin told her what Maria had said to him, as well as the conversation with Amicus afterwards. Razia stayed quiet the entire time, but she had a look in her eyes that told him she was already working something out. Thank the gods, he¡¯d done the only thing he could think of and it still didn¡¯t feel like nearly enough.


    When he was finished, Razia said nothing. After a few seconds of this, Quentin prodded. ¡°Do you have any idea how we¡¯re going to get her out of this?¡±


    ¡°The merchant,¡± she said, staring off into space as she thought about it. ¡°The key¡¯s the merchant. Well, the key¡¯s the merchant¡¯s wife, but I don¡¯t know that we¡¯d be able to say or do anything to get through to her if she¡¯s this pissed at her husband¡¯s philandering. So we focus on him, I think. We know roughly where he lives, which is a good start, but not how to approach him.


    ¡°Bribing him is our best bet. Barring that, threats. But if he¡¯s rich, chances are he can afford proper security. Which means threats will either bounce off of him or he¡¯ll get offended and dig his heels in harder. No, it¡¯s probably going to have to be a bribe of some sort.¡±


    Some of the built up panic faded away. Quentin was starting to calm, though he couldn¡¯t shake the horrible image of facing her in the Colosseum. Or the look on her face when she realized her good friend Mr. Q was the executioner. She¡¯d been shocked, but not for too long. The realization on her face as she added all the pieces together stung. Maria had gone from disbelief to ¡®this makes too much sense¡¯ very quickly.


    Now that he was back home and away from the damned Colosseum and all of its drama, it was easier to calm down. Especially with Razia here. ¡°So you think we¡¯ll be able to pull this off?¡± he asked hopefully.


    Razia frowned. Without meeting his eyes she said, ¡°I can¡¯t promise anything. If he¡¯s rich, the only thing we can really bribe him with is more girls, which might not work if his wife¡¯s got him on a short leash. We can try, though. All we can do is try.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t enough, but it would have to do for now. ¡°And Maria¡¯s daughter, Tricia? I promised Maria I would get her to her grandmother. I don¡¯t think¡­¡± His throat closed up. Quentin turned his head to the side and cleared his throat. ¡°Would it be possible for you to see to it? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea, her seeing me.¡±


    Razia understood at once. She closed the distance and wrapped him up in a big hug. After a second, he hugged her back. ¡°Maria didn¡¯t think so,¡± she said, squeezing him tighter. ¡°She asked you to do it because she trusts you. Even now, she trusts you. I think you owe it to her to see it all the way through. Don¡¯t you?¡±


    Quentin hated that she was right. Without further ado, they left home together in search of Maria¡¯s daughter.

 Chapter 36: The Ties that Bind

    Chapter 36: The Ties that Bind


    Quentin didn¡¯t want to do this. He didn¡¯t want to go seek out Maria¡¯s daughter almost as much as he didn¡¯t want to execute Maria. It wasn¡¯t that Quentin hated kids, per se. It was more like he hadn¡¯t really had anything to do with them for the last ten years of his life, and at this point he had no idea how to behave around them. Tricia was fourteen and was hardly a child, but judging from the sullen, insolent look on her face when she opened the door, she wasn¡¯t close to being an adult yet either.


    ¡°Hey sweetie,¡± Razia greeted softly. At her request Quentin hung back a bit. The neighborhood wasn¡¯t the worst he¡¯d seen, but it was in one of the poorer parts of town. The house was sandwiched between almost identical clay homes lining the street. They¡¯d nearly walked past the right door when Razia¡¯s memory kicked in and she recognized the small flower carved into the wood. ¡°Are you doing okay?¡±


    Tricia kept the door mostly closed. She had Maria¡¯s dark, curly hair and wide mouth. Quentin could picture her fussing over people, making sure they were getting enough to eat and that they¡¯d be safe. But children weren¡¯t just miniature versions of their parents. She currently had none of her mother¡¯s warmth. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ¡°Where¡¯s mom?¡± she demanded. Her eyes slid over to Quentin. ¡°Who¡¯s he?¡±


    Razia looked over her shoulder at Quentin. He shrugged, completely out of his depth. Razia must¡¯ve made a quick decision because she sighed and said, ¡°The Watch arrested her. I came to make sure you were okay. He¡¯s a very good friend of mine, here to make sure we¡¯re safe.¡±


    Hazel eyes remained staring, unblinking, until she gave in and opened the door for them. She disappeared into the house. Razia and Quentin trailed after her, the latter closing the door behind him. The house was small, with most of it being the one main room, with a couple of doors leading to bedrooms where they¡¯d have some semblance of privacy. It wasn¡¯t too unlike the place Quentin grew up.


    ¡°What did she get arrested for this time?¡± Tricia asked in the tone of someone who was more or less used to this and found it a mild annoyance at worst. ¡°And why couldn¡¯t she make sure we had enough food before she got herself locked up?¡± She didn¡¯t offer them anything to drink, or tell them to make themselves comfortable. She stood there in the living room with her arms crossed over her chest, staring them down.


    Razia sighed. ¡°Stealing. But it¡¯s not that simple. Why don¡¯t you pack some clothes and a few personal things?¡± She suggested. ¡°Your mom wanted us to get you to your grandma¡¯s house.¡±


    ¡°Ugh,¡± was her reply. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to grandma¡¯s. I can stay here just fine. It¡¯s not like she doesn¡¯t keep me alone here every night anyway. I can take care of myself just fine.¡±


    ¡°Minus getting food, apparently,¡± said Quentin. Her eyes met with his dark spectacles. She looked away first. ¡°Gotta have money for that too. You got some decent savings?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll just pull from savings, like we do whenever she gets harassed or doesn¡¯t show up for a few days.¡±


    Annoyance flared hot in Quentin. He stepped forward, ignoring Razia¡¯s silent attempts to get him to back down. ¡°Savings won¡¯t cut it. She¡¯s been sentenced to death for stealing First Family jewels.¡±


    Tricia reacted like Quentin had hit her. Her jaw dropped, and the insolence was gone. ¡°W-what?¡±


    Razia moved in front of Quentin, putting her hands on Tricia¡¯s shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re working on a way to get her out. But in the meantime, she asked us to look after you.¡± Tricia¡¯s legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground. Razia went down with her, pulling her into a hug Tricia didn¡¯t know she needed.


    This was what Quentin dreaded. Not just having to tell the girl, but the fallout that would come after. The tears, the fears, the begging and the bargaining. He probably could¡¯ve handled this better. It was hard enough to face people with the mutual knowledge that you would be the one to kill them. Quentin was used to that. He could never really get used to the shock and grief of the loved ones.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to kill mom?¡± Tricia asked, suddenly sounding very small. She hugged Razia back tightly, glad for the comfort of someone at least a little familiar.


    ¡°No,¡± Quentin found himself saying. ¡°No, we¡¯re not going to let it happen. We¡¯re going to stop it.¡± The promise from Amicus meant little to him, but there was no way the bastard could force Quentin to go through with it. ¡°I work in the Colosseum,¡± he said. The little lies about who he was and what he did didn¡¯t seem to matter much anymore. ¡°I spoke with her. She asked me specifically to make sure you were safe. She wants you to know she¡¯s okay and that she loves you.¡±


    That sent her over the edge and Tricia burst into tears. Quentin instantly regretted saying anything. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, wondering if he should get down there with the hug as well. Razia had the matter well in hand, though.


    ¡°Shh. Shh, it¡¯s okay,¡± Razia said, running her hands through Tricia¡¯s hair and letting her cry against her. Razia looked about as comfortable as Quentin felt. It was nice to know he wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°Cry as long as you need to. We got you.¡±


    The more Tricia cried, the more Quentin¡¯s heart broke. He was never meant to have to see the aftermath. This was too much. He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting outside. Just come on out when you¡¯re ready to go.¡±


    He rushed outside, missing whatever Razia called out to him on his way. With the door separating them, Quentin allowed himself to slump against it and sigh. This wasn¡¯t about him, he reminded himself. His comfort or discomfort didn¡¯t matter in the face of a teenage girl who was in danger of losing her mom. Even now, knowing he wouldn¡¯t do it Quentin found himself unable to think about Maria¡¯s death as anything but inevitable.


    The people they sent his way weren¡¯t the type to get last minute pardons or reprieves. The people sentenced to death who had friends in high enough places to get them out of it were the type to go to the Emperor¡¯s personal executioner. Quentin¡¯s job was executing the common folk of Orchrisus, those who were entirely on their own. No one was coming for Maria except for them, and it hurt.


    It hurt seeing her daughter looking so much like her, crying her eyes out. Maria was the first one other than Samantha to welcome him in. She¡¯d been kind to him and treated him as if he was normal and just another friendly face. Everything about this hurt in a way that was unfamiliar and overbearing. Quentin would¡¯ve chewed his own arm off if it meant getting away from how he felt.


    But there was no escaping it. The feeling stayed with him the fifteen minutes it took for Razia to calm Tricia down and get her packed up. It stayed with him when he met Tricia¡¯s eyes again and saw the pain and fear there. It wasn¡¯t the fear of death. He knew that look well. It was fear of the unknown, fear of the unthinkable happening. Whatever Tricia thought about her mother coming and going, she didn¡¯t think anything bad was really going to happen to Maria. She couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°You, uh, got everything you need?¡± Quentin asked, clearing the doorway for them. Tricia nodded, lifting a bulging pack. Quentin took it from her and slung it over his shoulder. ¡°You doing okay?¡±


    ¡°As okay as possible,¡± Razia answered for her. She flashed him a grateful smile that helped ease some of the tension and pain away. Not all, but it was bearable for now. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    By unspoken agreement, Razia took the lead and Quentin brought up the rear, sandwiching Tricia between them. She sniffled every now and then but kept quiet as they made their way through the city. Her grandmother wasn¡¯t too far away, as was often the case with families in Orchrisus. There were only so many places to go without leaving. It didn¡¯t take them more than half an hour to go from a mediocre part of the city to a bad one.


    Tricia¡¯s grandmother lived in the slums. As they got deeper and deeper into rundown neighborhoods of damaged houses squished together and on top of each other, the hurt in Quentin grew again.


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    ¡°Hey there, pretty pretty,¡± a middle aged man missing half his teeth called out to Tricia, grinning horribly. Quentin turned to him and silenced him with a look. The man slunk away after a few seconds. Razia fell back to walk beside Tricia, taking her hand in hers.


    ¡°Your grandmother really lives around here?¡± Razia asked, disdain clear in her voice.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Tricia sounded numb. Dead inside. ¡°She does the wash and sometimes watches some of the other neighbor¡¯s kids. Sometimes she comes to mom and asks for a bit of money if times are hard.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t like it. He kept his eyes open and his hand at his belt, before remembering that the Watch took his knife and he hadn¡¯t replaced it yet. Being in that part of town without a weapon was like being naked. No, he didn¡¯t like it at all. ¡°Is there anywhere else you can stay?¡± he asked, looking around.


    Tricia shook her head. ¡°My friend Barb¡¯s parents don¡¯t like me or my mom. And Kat¡¯s family has too many mouths to feed already.¡±


    Quentin grunted an acknowledgement. As rich a city as Orchrisus was, you couldn¡¯t count on your friends and neighbors to pick up the slack if something happened. When it came right down to it, everyone was on their own. Those who could get help were lucky, and those who could and did provide it were almost saints, as far as Quentin was concerned.


    Tricia stopped and pointed at one of the houses. The window shutters were hanging by a hinge and the door had a terrible crack in it around the knob. Quentin disliked and distrusted the place immediately. ¡°This is it,¡± she said, sounding resigned.


    Quentin and Razia exchanged a look of mutual dissatisfaction. This place? Maria¡¯s daughter? Still, it was what Maria asked. Quentin shrugged and motioned with his head. Razia nodded and knocked on the door. Nothing. She knocked on the door again, louder and longer this time. This time there were sounds of life inside, someone getting closer while grumbling.


    The woman who opened the door was probably in her late sixties, but she looked much older. Her wrinkles had wrinkles, and her entire body seemed shrunken with age and poor health. She looked at the unlikely trio, screwing up her eyes to be able to see them properly. ¡°What do you want? Tricia? What are you doing here? Where¡¯s your mom?¡±


    Razia cleared her throat. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re here about. May we come in?¡±


    The inside of the house looked worse than the outside. The floor was a mess and badly in need of a good scrubbing, and the few spare bits of furniture the woman had were in terrible repair. Quentin set Tricia¡¯s bag of clothes down by the door in one of the clean spots.


    Tricia¡¯s grandmother moved slowly, as if everything hurt. ¡°Can I get you anything to drink? All I¡¯ve got is some water and tea. Between you and me, go for the tea. The water¡¯s none too great.¡±


    ¡°No thank you,¡± Razia said. Then she got right into it. ¡°I¡¯m Razia and this is Quentin. We¡¯re friends with Maria. She¡¯s fallen into a bit of trouble and Tricia needs a place to stay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Maeve,¡± the old woman said. ¡°What happened to that rotten child of mine? She go out with the wrong sort again?¡± She let out a nasty snort. Tricia shifted uncomfortably. Quentin reached for her shoulder and then thought better of it.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Razia said. ¡°The Watch arrested her for a crime she didn¡¯t commit. We¡¯re trying to get her out, but it might take us a bit. Maria wanted us to bring Tricia here for a few days, if you¡¯re able to take her.¡±


    From the look on Maeve¡¯s face, she was able but less than willing. ¡°How long are we talking here? I can barely feed myself, let alone a teenager.¡±


    Razia turned to Quentin. ¡°A week,¡± he said. ¡°Maybe less. It all depends on how fast we can get Maria out.¡± She didn¡¯t, Quentin noticed, mention the death sentence. After just a minute in her company Quentin understood.


    ¡°A week,¡± Maeve echoed, clicking her tongue. ¡°Well, I just don¡¯t know if I can afford to keep her for that long. I can do a few days, maybe. This is all Maria¡¯s fault, and I don¡¯t see why I should have to keep cleaning up after her messes. She¡¯s a grown-ass woman, and she should really be taking care of me, at my age.¡±


    Throughout all this, Tricia remained silent, head bowed. She was clearly used to her grandmother¡¯s rants about her mother. She must¡¯ve had to listen to it each time she came here for a few days. As Maeve¡¯s rant went on, her shoulders slumped further and further.


    ¡°I understand,¡± Razia said diplomatically. ¡°You¡¯re doing her a huge favor. Hell, you¡¯re doing me a huge favor.¡± Razia reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a tiny purse. She dumped out a few qala pieces and held them out. ¡°Here. This should cover feeding her for a week, shouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Maeve¡¯s demeanor changed and she was instantly all smiles and good cheer. ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that kind of you, darling,¡± she said, taking the shards. ¡°I think I can maybe help sweet Patricia out.¡± Humming, she disappeared into her room, leaving the three of them standing here.


    ¡°Can I talk to you?¡± Quentin said to Razia, motioning with his head that he wanted it away from Tricia. Tricia sighed and walked across the room, looking equal parts crushed and resigned to her fate. That too, stung.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Razia said in a hushed voice, sidling up to Quentin.


    ¡°You can¡¯t honestly be thinking of leaving her here,¡± said Quentin. ¡°This woman is trash. How do we know she won¡¯t kick her out the moment we leave and take your money? How do we know she¡¯s not going to hurt her? She seems like the kind of bitter old bitch who spends her time making everyone around her miserable.¡±


    Razia nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Honestly, we don¡¯t know. I¡¯m worried too, Quentin. But I don¡¯t see that we have many options here. Maria told us to go to her. Clearly she trusts her mother. Maybe you¡¯re onto something. Not like I would trust my father with anything this important.¡± She looked over her shoulder at Tricia, who sat on a stool at the table, head down.


    ¡°Poor thing,¡± Razia said. ¡°This is so much for her to take in. Maybe you¡¯re right. But where would we even take her? Maria didn¡¯t give us any other options, and I don¡¯t personally know anyone who is willing or able to look after a teenager. Especially one who¡¯s going through some shit and might lash out.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t like the thought he was having. Even more, he hated that it came because of feeling guilty and personally responsible for the entire situation. It was silly, but it wasn¡¯t something easily shaken off or ignored. He wasn¡¯t the type to leap before he looked, and the only solution coming to him was just that: a blind leap that was bound to be a disaster.


    ¡°Alrighty,¡± Maeve said as she limped back into the living room. ¡°Now that that¡¯s settled, why don¡¯t you two leave and I¡¯ll make up a bed for little Tricia here.¡± Her tone was sickeningly sweet. ¡°Tomorrow you can start earning your keep by helping gramma do some cleaning.¡±


    Tricia looked up, and she looked even more miserable than before. She looked around her and her eyes met Quentin¡¯s. It was just for a second, but that¡¯s all it took for Quentin to make the dumbest decision he had since meeting Razia.


    ¡°Actually, forget about it,¡± Quentin said, the words coming out of his mouth on their own. ¡°Keep the shards. We¡¯ll take Tricia with us and look out for her until her mom is out. Assuming you want to come,¡± he said, turning towards Tricia.


    Silence. He could feel Razia¡¯s eyes burning a hole into him but she kept silent for the time being. Maeve looked to be at a loss for words. Tricia gave him a weird look, as if she couldn¡¯t figure out if he was serious or not. It wasn¡¯t like she knew him, or had any reason to trust him. He was just some weird looking guy who came in and gave her bad news. Before she got a chance to answer him, Maeve spoke up again.


    ¡°Nonsense, nonsense,¡± she said, her sickeningly sweet tone now had an edge to it. ¡°It¡¯s been too long since we¡¯ve spent quality time together, hasn¡¯t it dear?¡± Maeve turned her sugary smile to Tricia.


    Tricia stood up and walked over to Quentin and Razia, hiding behind them. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you guys,¡± she said, voice still small. There was no hint of the indignant teenager from earlier. Razia wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed.


    Maeve¡¯s face twisted into a silent snarl. ¡°Well,¡± she huffed. ¡°If you would rather go with an islander bitch and a moonkissed than your own grandmother then you deserve whatever happens to you. This is exactly the kind of bad decision your mother would make.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s her bad decision to make,¡± Quentin said, voice turning frosty. Maeve¡¯s tirade died then and there. Sometimes it was handy, looking the way he did. He grabbed the pack of clothes. He nodded to Razia and Tricia and they exited the shithole of a house.


    As soon as they were in a slightly better neighborhood, Razia said, ¡°Well, I certainly wasn¡¯t expecting that,¡± she said, looking at Quentin.


    Quentin shrugged. He cleared his throat and addressed Tricia. ¡°Is she always like that?¡±


    Tricia nodded, laughing humorlessly. ¡°Pretty much. She says shitty things about mom and makes me work until I get blisters, and keeps the money.¡±


    It was exactly what Quentin expected. ¡°No wonder you¡¯re willing to gamble on a couple of strangers. Well, a stranger and Razia.¡± He smiled at Razia.


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Tricia repeated. ¡°Thanks, by the way. I¡¯m...Mom¡¯s going to be okay, right?¡±


    Quentin¡¯s throat tightened. ¡°She will. I promise.¡±


    Maybe this wasn¡¯t the best decision. He¡¯d been making a number of those recently. Quentin knew he couldn¡¯t save everyone who came his way. Hell, he couldn¡¯t save anyone. That¡¯s not what he did. Maybe this was just just guilt, but after ten years there was a lifetime¡¯s worth of guilt packed in. He couldn¡¯t save them all, but he could save Maria and help her daughter. And he would, or die trying.

 Chapter 37: The Temple of the Pierced Heart (NSFW)

    Chapter 37: The Temple Of The Pierced Heart


    In a city of a hundred thousand people, finding one specific person could be difficult. There was an artform to it that Razia found she excelled at. It was all about knowing which questions to ask and who to approach. For someone as rich but low profile as the merchant Roberto Rossi, it proved to be trickier than most. It took her three days to find out where he would be and when and to make sure she was there as well for the attempt.


    It started with checking restaurants and high end clothiers, finding where they got their spices and dyes from and continuing from there. One source led to another and it wasn¡¯t hard for her to flash a winning smile or part with a few shards for the information. It wasn¡¯t that it was hard. It wasn¡¯t. It was more time consuming than anything, and time was something they were swiftly running out of. On the third day of searching, Razia discovered that Roberto Rossi would spend the next day, Temple Day in Orchrisus, at the temple of the Pierced Heart.


    All throughout the city, there were temples to the gods. Temples and businesses with adjacent worship centers, depending on the god in question. Wedding chapels and midwives were often the domain of the Hearthmother, goddess of marriage and families and the home. Libraries and information brokers belonged to the Whisperer, lady of knowledge, secrets, and dark places. And so on and so forth. Each of the kingdom capitals however, was home to a grand temple, the biggest and most extravagant place to worship a kingdom¡¯s patron god. The Temple of the Pierced Heart was where Orchrisus worshiped the god/ess of love and pain, art and suffering. And it was a pain in the ass to go all the way down there.


    Razia had to stop at the entrance once she arrived, tired from the trip. She had to arrive at sunset, one of the Pierced Heart¡¯s two holy times of day and when they held services. The more pious among them worshiped at dawn, but she didn¡¯t expect a wealthy businessman to be pious. Quite the opposite. The higher up a person went, the less respect they tended to show the gods and the more they worshiped their own cleverness and power instead. No, sunset was the perfect time, and Razia couldn¡¯t help but be impressed at the sight before her.


    The temple was an enormous structure of white marble that glittered in the sunlight. It was a wide, open place with spiraling columns and intricate sculptures of men and gods along the edge of the roof. High up in the center of the second story, there was a giant stained glass image of a heart with a rose pierced through and winding around it, and a balcony underneath where the hierophant would deliver their sermons to the faithful.


    Standing in front of it made Razia realize just how tiny she was. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d been there, but every time was equally impressive. She found herself especially glad she wore her finest outfit and brought a gorgeous purple shawl, which along with the multicolored silks of her dress gave her the impression of wearing the sunset. She bowed her head in respect and joined the others making their way inside the temple.


    The inside was even more intricately designed than the outside. On the ceiling was a fresco of all the gods, standing together, staring down at the viewer. Along the walls were murals depicting the Scions, the first children of the gods and their war of jealousy against humanity. Razia walked along, looking at the scenes in order as others milled around her. Most of the people inside were on the wealthier side, entry without providing a donation was something no self respecting person would do. Razia paid her tithe at the end of the murals, depositing a handful of shards into a locked wooden box. Proper respect finally paid, she began her hunt in earnest.


    The true hardest part of finding the merchant was the fact that she only had the description given to her by others. She knew he was a tall, broad shouldered man in his sixties. She knew he had green eyes, and a full beard of white with a single black streak in the center. That already ruled out most of the people in there, and Razia was in no real hurry as she wound her way in and out of groups of people talking together in hushed tones.


    ¡°Ms. Rashid,¡± a voice said from behind her. ¡°What a pleasure to see you again. I hadn¡¯t expected to see you...so soon.¡±


    Razia turned around, keeping her shawl around her. She nearly winced when she saw Sister Sylvia, one of the priestesses of the Pierced Heart. Sylvia was probably in her thirties and beautiful, as all the priests and priestesses tended to be. She had a cool, detached presence and a voice like velvet. Razia would¡¯ve easily fallen in love, if she hadn¡¯t hated the woman so much.


    ¡°Sister Sylvia,¡± she said pleasantly, fighting the twitch in her eye. ¡°I was lucky enough to be able to afford to pay proper respect to Dolas,¡± she said, making the priestess flinch. One didn¡¯t casually invoke a god¡¯s name in their own house.


    ¡°That would be a first. You¡¯re welcome to worship, as are all in Orchrisus,¡± she said, recovering smoothly. ¡°However, I did want to make sure you understood that our judgment still stands. We will not consider you for another eight months still.¡± If they would consider her at all, was the unspoken finish to the sentence. Sylvia was smiling, but it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Razia, bowing her head. ¡°I gave it my best attempt and was found wanting. I would never dream of challenging your decision.¡±


    ¡°At least not again.¡±


    Anger flared up inside Razia. ¡°No, I learned my lesson about the clergy last time,¡± she said, unable to keep all the venom from her voice. It was this temple that brought her to Orchrisus, four months ago. She Thought to enter into the service and maybe one day become Sister Razia, an angel of compassion and beauty, tending to the poor and suffering of Orchrisus. They thought differently.


    Sister Sylvia let out a soft sigh. ¡°From the sounds of it, you¡¯re still angry. That tells me you¡¯re not taking the proper lesson from our dismissal. You have too much pride in you, Razia. A servant of a god can¡¯t have the pride of one.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve said.¡± Razia was even more angry by the fact that Sylvia was right. She was prideful. And she was proud of her pride. It was what let her keep going, doing what she did in a world that often judged her or dismissed her for tending to the emotional and sexual needs of others. Razia was proud of who she was and what she did, and apparently that pride was enough for them to reject her. ¡°It was...nice, seeing you again, Sister Sylvia,¡± she said.


    Sylvia bowed her head in acknowledgement, but said nothing. She didn¡¯t need to. Her disdain was clear on her face and even when she left Razia there in front of the donation box, Sylvia kept an eye on her, as if expecting Razia to be up to no good. That was perhaps the only fair judgment about Razia she made. Razia was definitely there to start trouble and get what she wanted, no matter what. All she had to do was find the right man and work her magic.


    Razia made her way past person after person, glancing up at their faces to get a good look, often smiling or muttering a quick blessing that the other would mouth along with patiently. Aside from the men and women who stared long enough to admire her, most of them ignored her and left her to her business. Winding around the recessed center of the temple where cushions and pillows were scattered for people to sit or kneel on, she found her target in front of the statue.


    Dolas, the Pierced Heart was unique among the gods for not having a single form. They alone of all of the gods could change their shape and form, as love and attraction was never quite the same between two people. The statue erected to the god/ess was done so with master craftsmanship and an enormous amount of magic. It appeared to the viewer as whatever form they found attractive. In Razia¡¯s case, when she blinked it swapped between a number of different forms, male and female. This time, it alternated between an excessively curvy woman and a tall, fierce looking man. It wasn¡¯t surprising, but it was still pleasing.


    Glancing out the corner of her eyes, her target was right next to her, staring up at the statue with no real sense of awe so much as wistful longing. Roberto was taller than she expected, but most people were taller than her. Healthier too, with a decently big belly and a rosy glow to his skin. He had a weathered face that looked mostly good natured. She didn¡¯t forget that he was the reason Maria was sentenced to death.


    ¡°I know I¡¯m not supposed to ask this,¡± said Razia, sidling up close to him. ¡°When you look at the statue, what do you see?¡± She lowered her shawl a bit, looking up into his eyes with a small, secretive smile.


    When he looked at her, his eyes widened and his face lit up. He grinned, making his white beard bobble. There was the single black streak. If that hadn¡¯t tipped her off, his response would have. ¡°You¡¯re never going to believe this miss,¡± he said in a low, rumbly voice. ¡°But she looks just like you.¡±


    Razia playfully rolled her eyes, shrugging and moving a bit closer until she was all but touching him. ¡°I bet you say that to all the girls. But in this case I¡¯m willing to bet you¡¯re telling the truth. I¡¯m Razia.¡±


    He extended his hand to her, and brought it up to his lips when she gave it. ¡°Roberto Rossi, at your service,¡± he said. He kept her hand in his.


    She feigned surprise. ¡°The Roberto Rossi? Fabulously wealthy and classy businessman?¡± Maybe that was laying it on thick, but Roberto was already undressing her with his eyes. He didn¡¯t notice.


    ¡°The same,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m pleased you¡¯ve heard of me. The reputation is exaggerated, I promise you. Unless what you heard was good.¡± He let out a low laugh that echoed in the temple. He silenced himself when others looked up at him.


    Razia smiled wide and bright at him. ¡°It just so happens that you¡¯re exactly the man I¡¯ve been looking for.¡± She squeezed his hand and drew it back, letting her fingers play over his skin as she withdrew. She walked away from him slowly, putting an extra sway in her step. She headed towards one of the open wings that led outside, looking over her shoulder at him before she exited for the gardens.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The lush, overgrown gardens were the other half of the temple¡¯s grandeur. Half of the land used for the temple was dedicated to it, and it was a lush miniature jungle of flowers and vines and palm trees. It was an island of lush greens and vivid colors in a sea of beige and orange. Plants wound their way up the sides of the temple and the free standing columns around the garden. Razia waited until Roberto emerged from the temple. She met his eye, smiled, and disappeared into the green.


    Maybe it was risky, assuming he would follow her like that. Razia was nothing if not prideful, and to her satisfaction he came after her, jogging to catch up. She heard his heavy breathing before he came around the corner. He found her sitting on a stone bench, arms and legs spread. His eyes dipped to her dress and how high it rode before resting on her face.


    ¡°What did you mean by that?¡± he asked. Intrigue and surprise were the number one ways to attract a rich older man, and Razia had plenty of both.


    She crossed one leg over the other slowly, letting her leg raise in the air. For a solid couple of seconds he¡¯d be able to look directly up her dress, to where she was very purposefully wearing nothing beneath it. His eyes sparked with hunger as he met her gaze again. ¡°Just what I said, Roberto Rossi. I¡¯ve been looking for you. You have something I want. Something I need.¡±


    His eyes dipped down between her legs and back up. He wet his lips and considered her. ¡°I must say, whatever it is you want from me, you have a hell of a way of teasing.¡± He closed the distance, standing between her legs and looming over her. ¡°You have my attention...Razia, was it?¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°It was and is. To be blunt, I want to trade something. I want to spend the next week sucking your cock and getting fucked by you every way imaginable. I want to ruin you for other women and make you dream of me long after I¡¯m gone. I want to make your Blooming festival the envy of Orchrisus.¡± She smiled sweetly.


    Roberto¡¯s expression darkened almost instantly. The smile on his face disappeared, replaced by a look of growing hunger the more she spoke. He shifted from foot to foot, and Razia saw the front of his trousers twitch. That just made her smile grow. It was a good start, if nothing else.


    ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a pitch,¡± he said, chuckling. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t born yesterday. Quite the opposite. I can¡¯t see a pretty young thing like you wanting anything to do with an old fart like me without there being a hell of a price tag. What do you want from me?¡±


    Rather than answer, Razia leaned further back and raised her between his legs. Slowly, teasingly she brushed her foot up against his growing erection, just enough to put a bit of pressure and feel the shape of him. ¡°I want your pride, Roberto Rossi. I want you to let go of your pride for a bit, and I¡¯ll make your dreams come true.¡±


    His eyes fluttered shut at the contact. His breathing deepened, and he let out a pleased sigh. ¡°That might be asking a lot. A man like me, pride is what we prize most. Speak plainly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here about Maria Legano,¡± said Razia.


    The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. His smile disappeared, replaced by something that wasn¡¯t quite a scowl. His entire body tensed up, and his hands balled into fists. It didn¡¯t seem to lower his excitement, just the mood. ¡°That was a mistake. All of it,¡± he said. ¡°I should never have tried to get so close to her. I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re a friend of hers?¡±


    Razia sat up straight. ¡°I am. One of her closest friends. I heard about what happened. All of it. Even a wealthy, proud man like you has to know that she doesn¡¯t deserve to die just to save your pride. Would you really condemn an innocent woman to death?¡±


    Sighing, he closed his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not me, it¡¯s my wife. She was furious. I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not attached to any one person in particular?¡±


    ¡°You guess wrong,¡± Razia replied, smiling. ¡°Jealousy is an ugly thing, isn¡¯t it?¡± She reached forward and cupped his cock with her hand. Despite the serious conversation, she kept up the pressure, running her thumb over the fabric of his trousers.


    Roberto couldn¡¯t help but let out a tiny groan. He spread his legs, giving her easier access as she stroked him through his clothes. ¡°It is. And my wife is as ugly as they come. If it was up to me, none of this would be happening. But I can¡¯t change my wife¡¯s mind. Not easily.¡±


    ¡°And yet you¡¯re not walking away, or telling me no. You don¡¯t want to say no to me, do you Roberto?¡±


    ¡°...No,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡± Razia laughed pleasantly. ¡°Take me up on my offer. Drop the charges against Maria, get her released from the Colosseum, and I¡¯ll spend the next week doing every nasty, filthy thing your wife won¡¯t.¡±


    Roberto groaned again, unconsciously grinding against her hand. He was fully hard now, and throbbing violently through his pants. ¡°And where is my wife in this fantasy of yours? She¡¯s got me on a tight leash after that.¡±


    Razia unbuttoned his pants. This was going about as well as she could¡¯ve hoped. She had him in her grasp, and all she had to do was make it unthinkable to deny her, give him just a little taste of what she could offer and he¡¯d be eating out of her hand. He didn¡¯t fight her as she fished his cock out of his pants and stroked it directly, soft skin dancing over his hard length.


    ¡°Are you trying to tell me a clever man, a self made man like you, can¡¯t think of a way to get rid of the old ball and chain?¡± Razia teased. Before he could answer she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, a slow tease that ended with a swirl around the head. His hands shot forward to grasp her head, but he didn¡¯t move her at all.


    ¡°Gods,¡± he groaned. ¡°You¡¯re not playing fair,¡± he said, laughing weakly.


    ¡°I never do,¡± Razia replied, giving him another teasy lick.


    It was daring, doing this out in public. Any time now the Hierophant would be addressing worshippers, which would probably keep the rest of the temple from being out in the gardens until afterwards, when they would be encouraged to mingle and share stories of love and overcoming pain. For now, it was just the two of them in the open world. Even with this being strictly business, Razia couldn¡¯t help but feel a little excitement from it. It was bordering on blasphemous, playing with a rich merchant¡¯s cock in the temple gardens.


    Razia leaned forward, taking his length into her mouth. Her lips wrapped around his cock and sealed against it as she sucked him further in, tongue stroking the underside. The good thing about rich men is they tended to be cleaner. Roberto was no exception, and Razia was pleased to find that this wouldn¡¯t nearly as much of a chore as it could¡¯ve been. She bobbed along for a few seconds before letting him go with a wet pop.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just me,¡± Razia saiz, wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking him. ¡°Maria¡¯s not mad at you. She¡¯s mad at your wife. Get her out of this, and it won¡¯t just me blowing your...mind. You can have the two of us for a week. Play sick, have a business emergency, just get out of the house and spend a week living like a king.¡±


    Each slow stroke of her hand up and down weakened his resistance. She could see it in his eyes, on the off times they were open. His hips moved forward of their own accord, desperate for more stimulation, more pleasure, more everything. He stroked her smooth scalp as she worked, leaning in again to suck just the tip of his head while he threw his head back and flat out moaned loud enough that if anyone were out there, they¡¯d hear it.


    ¡°I...Fuck, Razia, I¡­¡± He groaned. She felt his cock twitch in her mouth and she backed off, squeezing his shaft and stopping him from getting too excited. He let out a needy whimper. This was real power, bringing a powerful man to his knees with just her words and touch.


    ¡°Have I convinced you yet?¡± Razia said in as innocent a voice as she could manage while giving a man a blowjob. ¡°Let Maria live and this is nothing compared to what you¡¯ll feel.¡±


    ¡°Yessss¡­¡± Roberto hissed as she stroked faster and harder for a few seconds. His hips bucked wildly as she stroked harder and faster. Razia planted a kiss on the head before devouring him again. ¡°GODS YES,¡± he cried.


    It wouldn¡¯t be long now. He was hot and hard in her mouth, and she could taste the first salty hints of his impending orgasm. So she backed off again. ¡°What was that, Roberto?¡± She teased. ¡°Are you saying yes to my deal? Are you going to let Maria go? Forget about your wife. You could have the time of your life.¡±


    His eyes shot open. ¡°My wife is...I was a nobody. Her family is powerful. She won¡¯t take an insult like me going to a common whore lying down. She wants Maria dead, not me.¡± The words looked like they pained him to say.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Razia said, pumping his shaft slower now. ¡°Are you saying I should be making this offer to her instead? Think she¡¯d want a pretty little thing like me with my mouth on her cunt?¡±


    Whatever Roberto felt about his wife, the mental image of Razia eating her out obviously did it for him. The end of his cock leaked with precum. Razia gathered it in her hand and slowly, teasingly ran the palm of her hand against his sensitive head. ¡°Fuck,¡± he growled. ¡°No, she doesn¡¯t like women, but...Fuck, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Razia was about to press on when she saw movement out the corner of her eye. She craned her head to look past Roberto and her blood ran cold. There was Sister Sylvia, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked more than furious, she looked absolutely disgusted at the sight in front of her. Which was funny, as chances were that as a priestess she¡¯d done exactly this at the temple. Maybe even in this very spot.


    ¡°What the hell do you two think you¡¯re doing?¡± She said, making Roberto jump. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Razia, eyes wide with sudden panic. He pulled away from Razia, shoving his cock back into his pants and buttoning them back up.


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± he said, looking between the two of them rapidly.


    Sister Sylvia ignored him. She stepped forward until she was right in front of Razia. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you,¡± she hissed. ¡°You were rejected for a reason, and this is part of the reason why. Do you think no doesn¡¯t apply to you?¡±


    Roberto shot Razia an apologetic look and backed away slowly. Sister Sylvia paid him no mind, and he took that as his chance to get out of there and maybe avoid getting in trouble with the clergy. For a man like him, reputation mattered and there was no way he was going to be caught with his pants down during temple services.


    A million different feelings flooded Razia. Anger, disappointment, crushing defeat. Defeat more than anything. Whatever chance she had at making this work was gone now that he¡¯d run away. Her spell was broken and if she tried to approach him again there was no way he¡¯d be even half as receptive.


    ¡°Well?¡± demanded Sylvia.


    Razia stood up, biting back volcanic anger. As much as she wanted to grab Sylvia by her stupid blonde hair and smack the shit out of her, she was still clergy. She was still a chosen agent of her god/ess. Instead, she channeled her fury into very calm, very even words. ¡°Congratulations Sylvia. You just got an innocent woman killed.¡±


    Silvia blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    Razia huffed. ¡°Forget it.¡± She pushed past Sylvia, but Sylvia¡¯s hand shot out and caught her by the wrist.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Sylvia, ¡°but what you did is profane. You are not one of us. Performing services on worshippers in the garden when you¡¯re just a common whore is disgusting. Don¡¯t bother coming back in eight months. You¡¯re not welcome here for anything other than worship.¡±


    That hurt more than Razia thought possible. She ripped her hand away from the priestess. ¡°Fuck you, bitch,¡± she spat. Razia walked away now, as fast as her feet would take her. Her eyes burned from the unshed tears. She wanted to break down and cry, over failing, over the indignation, over Maria. But she wouldn¡¯t. Not where anyone could see her.

 Chapter 38: Out of Time

    Chapter 38: Out of Time


    Looking after Tricia hadn¡¯t been nearly as bad as Quentin was expecting. After an initial period of looking around the house slack-jawed, she collapsed into Razia¡¯s bed. He spent the rest of the night dreading the next day, as there was no way in hell it wouldn¡¯t be awkward. The next day came, and aside from a bit of awkward, sullen silence at breakfast, it had been fine. Tricia had been more than happy to wander around the courtyard between houses, meeting the other family¡¯s kids and spending time with them.


    Quentin watched her laughing and playing with the two girls who did his laundry once a week. Satisfied that she wasn¡¯t going to cause trouble or get in a fight with the others, he went back inside and spent the morning talking with Razia about her plans. Then she left and it was just the two of them. Tricia took an interest in his book collection, and then it was all over.


    Even now, out in a tavern for the evening, Tricia sat next to Quentin with her head buried in a book. She wasn¡¯t an especially strong reader, mouthing along to the words and running her finger along the word she was on, but she hadn¡¯t really needed any help. More than anything, Quentin was glad to provide her with a distraction so she didn¡¯t spend all of her time worrying about her mother.


    Still going out with the girls was a distraction for Quentin. They stuck to familiar places now that they were no longer being hunted by those three idiots, and in truth things had been...a little boring. Things were smooth. A little too smooth. Quentin sat there at the table, clutching his mostly empty drink and wishing there was a fight. An argument. Anything to let him be distracted too.


    ¡°How far are you?¡± Quentin asked Tricia after dark thoughts chewed on his last nerve. ¡°What¡¯s the last thing that happened?¡±


    Tricia looked up from her book in a daze. She popped her bottom lip out of her mouth, where she¡¯d been thoughtlessly nibbling on it. ¡°They just got off the boat after the storm shipwrecked them. They can¡¯t find Isabelle, and say she¡¯s probably dead.¡±


    Quentin smiled to himself, remembering when he¡¯d first read that book as a kid. It was a pretty simple adventure story, but sometimes those were the best when you felt trapped. ¡°Do you think she¡¯s dead?¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± said Tricia. ¡°She spent so much time saying her grandma was a mermaid there¡¯s no way she drowned. That would be stupid.¡±


    Yeah, the author was a bit heavy handed with that. The way Quentin saw it, it wasn¡¯t meant to be a surprise. It was a reward to readers that paid attention. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll find out, huh?¡± Quentin shrugged, not willing to confirm or deny.


    Tricia scoffed, but there was a smile underneath it. Until her eyes slid from his to someone behind him. Quentin turned around and like usual, there was a man there, waiting for him to notice him. That had been one of the hardest parts of getting used to this side job. He was in charge, and people came to him and waited for his attention mostly patiently. He¡¯d only had to give one warning stare.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± said Quentin. He leaned back in his seat, presenting the image of lazy bravado and confidence. It was getting easier and easier to pretend to be relaxed.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re the guy to talk to about getting your dick sucked, right?¡± he asked, a hopeful look in his eye.


    ¡°Well, not me personally,¡± Quentin returned evenly.


    Color flooded the man¡¯s face. ¡°No, but the girls --¡±


    ¡°Yes yes,¡± Quentin said, biting back laughter. ¡°You¡¯ve come to the right place. But as you can see, all my girls are busy right now.¡± He gestured to the table, empty save for him and Tricia.


    The man cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. ¡°Not all of them.¡±


    That was when Quentin understood. He made a face. ¡°She¡¯s not for sale,¡± he said, finding himself angry at the very idea of it.


    Tricia spoke up. ¡°But...What if I want to go?¡±


    There was nothing she could¡¯ve said that would¡¯ve surprised him more. The silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time as he struggled to kick his brain back into working. The man, probably in his twenties, took the initiative and added, ¡°I¡¯ve heard about your rules and I¡¯m okay for it. Not gonna do nothing rough or mean. I just want my dick sucked, and she¡¯s cute enough and --¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s too young,¡± Quentin snapped. He held up a finger as he fought to wrestle the anger back into the boss. The poor bastard had no idea what nerve he was trampling on. Hell, Quentin didn¡¯t expect this to be a hard no from him either, but then he hadn¡¯t thought of this happening. No one else had asked after her over the past couple of days she¡¯d accompanied him and Razia out.


    ¡°No, really, it¡¯s okay,¡± Tricia said, standing up. ¡°This is what mom does. Kinda figures I¡¯ll end up doing the same thing when she¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Sit,¡± Quentin ordered, pounding his fist on the table. All at once, Tricia¡¯s relaxed, easy demeanor changed back to the sullen, pouty teenager he first saw.


    ¡°What do you care? I¡¯m going to need a way of making money when she¡¯s gone anyway.¡± There was pain in her voice, and stubbornness. ¡°Grandma always said I was gonna follow in her footsteps. I don¡¯t really see other options coming up for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come back later,¡± the prospective client said helpfully, retreating with his hands up.


    ¡°Forget your grandmother,¡± Quentin said. He forced himself to calm down and speak at a normal volume. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t listen to her. She seems like a hateful old bitch.¡±


    Tricia¡¯s frown cracked. ¡°Yeah,¡± she almost smiled, sitting back down. ¡°She is. But my point still stands. I¡¯m not a child. What do you think¡¯s going to happen when I¡¯m living on the streets and starving?¡±


    Quentin hated how logical that was. But he wasn¡¯t going to budge on the matter. ¡°Look,¡± he said, taking a deep breath. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with being a whore. Your mom and her friends are good people. Some of the kindest people I¡¯ve known. But it¡¯s dangerous. And you might not be a child, but you¡¯re not an adult either. You¡¯re what, 14? That¡¯s too young. Don¡¯t worry about money right now.¡±


    Silence fell again, tense and heavy. Tricia nibbled on her bottom lip again in deep concentration while Quentin willed her to just drop the subject and move on. No more trouble, no more thinking of putting herself in harm¡¯s way when under Quentin¡¯s protection. There wasn¡¯t anything wrong with what Maria and Razia did, but that didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t a cost. Listening to them complain about some of the clients as nights wound down made that abundantly clear.


    ¡°I kinda have to worry about money, don¡¯t I?¡± Tricia said softly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t everyone? We¡¯ve got some saved up, enough to live on for a month, but what happens after that?¡±


    Quentin grabbed his mostly empty drink and downed it. He supposed it was only a matter of time until this conversation came around. That it took three days was probably a kindness he hadn¡¯t properly appreciated. ¡°You won¡¯t have to worry about that. Your mother will be fine. We¡¯re making sure of it.¡±


    Tricia made a face. ¡°Yeah, because a whore and a moonkissed pimp can break a woman off death row. What if you can¡¯t? Huh? Shouldn¡¯t I be thinking about the future and making plans? That¡¯s what mom would tell me.¡±


    Anger flared up again, instantly dispelled by her easy logic. Quentin was forced to concede that no, she really wasn¡¯t just a child. But that didn¡¯t mean he was going to throw her out to a night full of lusty bastards who had to have constant reminders just to treat sex workers like human beings. ¡°If the worst happens, then I¡¯ll do what I can to look out for you. You won¡¯t go hungry as long as I¡¯m around. I promise.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Some of the anger and frustration melted from her, leaving her looking mostly tired and sad. Tricia put her arms on the table and rested her chin on her arms. ¡°Not the first time mom¡¯s friends have made big promises. Are you really that close with my mom?¡±


    No, he wanted to say, he¡¯d known her for all of two weeks. Not even. All of this was new, and happening faster than anything else in his life. Instead, Quentin said, ¡°Yes. If I have to, I¡¯ll kill to get her home safely. You can count on that.¡± It was as honest an answer as he could give her.


    Tricia looked like she had something more to say, but it got caught in her throat. She looked past him with widened eyes. Quentin followed her gaze to the front of the pub where a disgustingly handsome teenage boy was heading right for them. ¡°Hey Jonas,¡± said Quentin. ¡°No Demetrius today?¡±


    Jonas beamed, showing white, even teeth. ¡°Hey Mr. Q. Just me. The old bastard didn¡¯t want to risk spending time with the fork tongued whore. His words, not mine. How¡¯ve things been?¡± He pulled out a stool and sat down, oblivious to the open gawking Tricia was doing.


    ¡°Slow. That¡¯s not a bad thing, especially after a hard day of practice, but if I¡¯m not careful I¡¯m going to fall asleep and Tricia here might do something stupid.¡± Quentin grinned as Tricia didn¡¯t look up or even seem to notice what he¡¯d said. She was too focused to notice or care about much of anything.


    It was then that Jonas noticed the girl. He turned his winning smile to her and Quentin swore he saw her stop breathing for a second. ¡°Hello there! I¡¯m Jonas.¡± He held out his hand. Tricia extended her own, shaking badly, and took it, holding onto it. She didn¡¯t say anything for a long enough time that even she noticed.


    ¡°Oh. Um. I¡¯m Patricia. Tricia. Call me Tricia.¡± Her cheeks flushed bright red. It was all Quentin could do to avoid laughing his ass off. She was worse than he was as a young teen. And he¡¯d been pretty obvious and awkward about his crushes. Then he had an awful idea.


    ¡°Tricia here was just telling me about a job she plans on getting. Weren¡¯t you, Trish?¡± Quentin elbowed her.


    Tricia jumped, releasing Jonas¡¯ hand. Realizing what he was implying, she made a face. ¡°Y-yeah,¡± she said. ¡°I was thinking maybe I¡¯ll be a..a teacher. Teach kids how to read.¡± She held up her book. ¡°Quentin let me borrow this one.¡±


    Perfect. Little did she know, Jonas had no issues with whores. He seemed particularly taken with Isa, and had met up with them a couple times after their practices together. Most of the time without Demetrius, who made any excuse to not be around Razia. Whether it was out of outright hate for her or knowing his own temper and doing them a favor, Quentin couldn¡¯t say but he hadn¡¯t questioned it.


    It had been nice, getting to know Jonas a bit better. The teenage gladiator was great in the ring, pleasant, uncomfortably good looking, and a bit empty headed. It wasn¡¯t that he was stupid so much as straight forward and a bit oblivious. It took a while for Quentin to realize Jonas didn¡¯t have an agenda because he wasn¡¯t the type of person to even think of agendas to begin with. And now he was in a perfect spot to help Quentin out.


    Gods help him, Quentin was beginning to think like Razia.


    ¡°Let me get you a drink,¡± Quentin said, standing. Jonas murmured a quick thanks but all of his attention was on Tricia, who was speaking rapidly about the virtues of being a teacher in a big city. She still hadn¡¯t released his hand, but either Jonas didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t mind.


    He took his sweet time getting that drink. The problem with this new job was how much sitting around he did. Quentin supposed that it would probably be better if he was more social and went around making connections instead of relying on others to come to him, but he was content enough doing it as he was for the time being. He took this opportunity to stretch his legs and wind his way around the pub, getting a good look at the people inside. Anything was better than letting himself worry about tonight.


    There he went, thinking of it again. Quentin frowned, trying to banish the thoughts and worries from his head, but they weren¡¯t going anywhere. Sighing, he stepped up to the bar and ordered another round. A tug at his cloak had him turn around to see Razia was back, looking absolutely terrible.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, voice completely lifeless.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Quentin, face falling. ¡°It went that poorly?¡±


    ¡°Worse.¡±


    The drinks arrived. Quentin paid the man and lifted the tray. ¡°Gimme just a second. Get a drink, and we¡¯ll talk about it. I¡¯ll have Jonas babysit for us.¡±


    Razia looked over to the table. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. ¡°She¡¯s got it bad, doesn¡¯t she? Can¡¯t blame her. The boy¡¯s a snack.¡±


    Quentin mumbled something that wasn¡¯t a disagreement and brought the tray over. He set drinks down in front of Jonas and Tricia. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, interrupting Tricia. She shot a murderous look his way. ¡°Mind sitting with Tricia here for a few minutes? I need to take care of something.¡±


    ¡°Ahh,¡± Jonas said, full of understanding. ¡°The job calls. No problem. Take as much time as you need. Tricia here¡¯s real lively.¡± He flashed her a good natured smile that had her all but swooning. Tricia¡¯s murderous intent turned very quickly into giddy gratitude.


    Quentin pat Jonas¡¯ shoulder and took his drink over to where Razia was sitting at the bar. He sat down next to her, shoulders hunched forward. ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±


    Razia took a deep breath. ¡°I found him at the temple like we discussed. I talked with him. Everything was going well. He was on the verge of breaking, when a priestess came out and caught me with his cock in my mouth. She scared him off, and I failed. Now I think I¡¯m banned from coming back to the temple.¡±


    Quentin winced. ¡°Shit,¡± he said.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Razia agreed.


    They sat together for a few minutes, silent save for the occasional sound of drinking. Quentin could tell this was bothering Razia, but for the life of him he had no idea what to say to make it better. Even bringing it up or trying to offer comfort seemed like it would make it worse. It wasn¡¯t just that the plan failed, it was Razia¡¯s plan, and she looked crushed.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Quentin finally asked, unable to keep it in any longer.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that spineless sack of shit is letting his wife put an innocent woman to death because he¡¯s too much of a coward to own up to his vices. No, I can believe it. I just can¡¯t accept it.¡± She took a long gulp, draining most of the cup in one go and slamming it on the counter. ¡°It¡¯s a load of shit.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Quentin agreed. He risked putting his arm around her shoulder. When she moved in closer, he relaxed and just squeezed her. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let it happen. The way it¡¯s going down, there will be five of us in that maze, hunting each other. Last man standing walks out. I¡¯m going to make sure she¡¯s okay, and then I¡¯ll take out the rest of them. When it¡¯s just the two of us left, there will be nothing they can do. I¡¯ll refuse, and either Amicus will go along with it like he agreed or I¡¯ll publicly embarrass him. He won¡¯t let that happen.¡±


    Razia nodded, and wrapped her arms around Quentin¡¯s side, burying her head against his chest. ¡°I believe you,¡± she said. ¡°I trust you. I wish we had more time to try something else. I just wish we had more time.¡±


    ¡°I do too,¡± said Quentin. Two days. That¡¯s all the time that remained, and even that was a stretch. It was more like a day and a half. It was so close that tomorrow Quentin wouldn¡¯t be practicing. He¡¯d be resting his body, preparing for the fight to come. The day after, he¡¯d spend most of the day at the Colosseum, dealing with all the preparations and being in place early for security reasons.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried,¡± Razia said after another brief silence. ¡°About what happens if you can¡¯t save Maria. I trust you, but shit happens. What do we do about Tricia if the worst happens?¡±


    Quentin had spent much of the last few days wondering the same thing. It was one thing to promise to not hurt Maria and to try to protect her, but in Quentin¡¯s experience things rarely went as planned. Especially for him. Amicus promised, but he trusted Amicus as far as he could throw the fat bastard. So where did that leave them?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°I¡¯m not...I¡¯m not sure I can look after Tricia permanently. I can make sure she¡¯s fed and not in danger, but I¡¯m not sure any of us would be happy if she lived with us. I feel like it¡¯s irresponsible of me to claim to be there for a kid when I don¡¯t know on any given day whether or not I¡¯ll be coming home.¡±


    For once, she didn¡¯t rag on him for being overly morose. Razia just squeezed him one more time before letting him go. Quentin found himself wishing she didn¡¯t, but it was too late now. He finished his drink. ¡°I¡¯m glad Jonas came by, at least. He¡¯ll distract her for a while and maybe she won¡¯t be so quick to offer herself up.¡±


    Razia looked up. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean,¡± Quentin said, ¡°a guy came up wanting a blowjob. I had to tell her no, she couldn¡¯t accept.¡±


    Razia made a face. ¡°She¡¯s too young for that. Two years too young for it, bare minimum. I¡¯ll have a talk with her about it. Thanks for looking out for her, Quentin. For all of us.¡± She stood, and kissed his cheek. Razia over to their table, putting her hand on Jonas¡¯ shoulder and joining the conversation. Quentin stood back, waiting.


    Thinking. Barely a day and a half left, and he was going to need all of his strength for the trials to come. He couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted or to have his head anywhere but the Colosseum. He needed to take this seriously. But no matter how hard he tried, Quentin couldn¡¯t shake the idea of failing again. If that happened, would Razia still want to be around him? Or would it just be a painful reminder of losing a friend?


    It wouldn¡¯t be too terribly long before he found out, for better or worse.

 Chapter 39: The Emperor of Sand

    Chapter 39: The Emperor of Sand


    The day of the Blooming had come, and Quentin sat at his locker, staring at his armor on the wooden mannequin. The skull mask stared back at him, grinning at a joke only it knew. All around him was the clamor of gladiators getting ready for their big night. All while he sat and stared and thought about what was to come. Quentin was no stranger to taking his time getting dressed, but rarely did he just sit there.


    ¡°What if I fuck it up in front of everyone?¡± said one of the gladiators, Patrick. He and Bruce were sitting a few feet apart from Quentin, whose armor and changing station were slightly apart from the rest. Ostensibly it was for him to stand out as the star. In practice, it was so others weren¡¯t too close to him. It didn¡¯t stop him from overhearing, but the degree of separation often had him stay silent. Not today.


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Quentin said, tearing his gaze away from his mask. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing drills for the past two weeks, same as everyone else. If Demetrius shouted in your ear while you were asleep you¡¯d be doing your forms before you¡¯d even woken up.¡±


    Bruce chuckled, and Patrick stared at him before an uneasy smile crossed his face. They often saw him, but rarely heard him. They didn¡¯t seem to know quite how to react. ¡°What about you?¡± Bruce asked haltingly. ¡°You nervous at all?¡±


    Quentin thought about it. ¡°I¡¯m nervous every godsdamned fight,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°Well, of course you are,¡± said Patrick. ¡°Sure one of us could get killed if there¡¯s an accident, but we¡¯re not fighting to the death. Most of the time. Worst that happens to me is I make an ass of myself in front of twenty thousand people. Sure, dying is embarrassing, but,¡± he smirked, ¡°at least you wouldn¡¯t have to live it down.¡±


    That got a good laugh out of Quentin. He turned around, straddling the bench and facing the other two. ¡°This is your first major event, isn¡¯t it? Honestly, if you fuck it up and embarrass yourself, people will love it.¡±


    ¡°They will?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Bruce said, nodding along. ¡°They go nuts when the show doesn¡¯t go as planned. Of course, if you fuck it up Demetrius is going have you run laps until you puke, but he usually puts you in a match soon after to show you learned from your mistake.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Just relax, and enjoy yourself. There¡¯s nothing quite like seeing a packed house and hearing them scream for you and demand more.¡± He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This was a good reminder to himself as well. ¡°You¡¯ll be dreaming of this night for weeks afterward, win or lose, smooth or not.¡±


    Patrick smiled widely as he imagined it. He nodded, liking what he saw in his mind¡¯s eye. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll do that. Thanks Quentin.¡±


    A surge of warmth spread through Quentin¡¯s chest. That was a pleasant surprise. He nodded and turned back to his armor. Maybe Demetrius and Razia were right. Maybe a lot of his anxieties about the way people saw him were just that. Quentin pulled off his shirt and began putting his armor on, piece by piece. After ten years of this, the bulky black chitin was almost like a second skin to him. All except for the mask.


    It simultaneously protected his identity and dehumanized him. It was hard to be seen as just another gladiator when wearing it. Sure, all of the helmets were highly stylized, but this was the only one that covered the face entirely. No one liked that skull grin staring at them, let alone wanted to have a conversation with it. Sighing, he put it on too.


    A shout arose from the front of the locker room. The noise made its way closer as the gladiators made a fuss over a non-fighter among them in their states of undress. Most of it was a joke, but they announced the Colosseum slave long before he stopped before Quentin. ¡°Amicus wants you, Butcher,¡± he said. ¡°He says it¡¯s urgent and to not fuck around or take your time.¡±


    The executioner stood. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, leaving his corner. The other gladiators, including Patrick and Bruce, instinctively edged away from him as he passed. The slave followed close, tugging on the chains around his neck as they left. They parted immediately outside the locker room, as the executioner climbed to the top of the Colosseum, dreading having to deal with Amicus before the matches.


    The entire Colosseum was alive and bustling with activity as everyone fought to make sure they were ready for the massive crowd they¡¯d be serving tonight. The kitchens cooked up a storm, and vendors stocked up on bottles of wine and mead and water to pass out during the show. Stalls were set up on every floor, selling toy swords and gladiator dolls. The executioner walked through all of them, for once glad that he repelled those closest to him.


    The first sign that something was different came at the halfway point. Two guards were stationed there, and they stopped him. ¡°Mask off,¡± one of them said.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s me,¡± said the executioner. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m distinctive enough to be hard to imitate.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said the other guard. ¡°We were told to confirm, and that¡¯s what we¡¯re gonna do.¡±


    The executioner pulled away his mask, scowling at them. The guards looked at each other, and then down. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s you. Go on up, but...Careful, Butcher. Things are serious up there.¡±


    That gave the executioner pause. Amicus was a vain son of a bitch, but he¡¯d never been overly concerned with security. A good deal of that vanity came from how beloved a figure he was to Orchrisus. Everyone knew his rich, rolling basso voice and his distinctive belly laugh. The only people who wished him any harm were those who knew him personally. Four more guards stood outside his office, leveling their weapons at the executioner.


    ¡°Give us your weapon,¡± one of them said.


    The executioner pulled his sword off, belt and all and handed it over. Another guard took it while the rest kept their weapons trained on him. ¡°A few ground rules before you enter,¡± the leader of them said. ¡°You will keep at least a few feet away at all times. Get too close and you will be skewered. You will watch your mouth around his excellency. If you don¡¯t --¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll skewer me,¡± said the executioner. ¡°Noted.¡± His heart began beating fast. There was only one reason why the security would be this high, and specific instructions given to him. Gods, he hadn¡¯t prepared for this.


    ¡°Just so,¡± the guard said, almost smiling. ¡°Just don¡¯t do anything stupid and you¡¯ll be okay.¡± He motioned with his head and another of the guards knocked on the door three times. The doors opened and the executioner was ushered in.


    Amicus, for a change, was not at his desk. He was off to the side, leg still bandaged and raised up though it must¡¯ve been almost fully healed by now. No, behind the enormous high end desk sat the emperor of Orchrisus and the warden of the great desert. The emperor stood, looking up into the executioner¡¯s mask directly. He was an ordinary looking man, old even, and not anywhere near as impressive as expected. But he didn¡¯t have to be if he could snap his fingers and have the executioner torn to pieces in seconds.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± Amicus said in a voice so friendly the executioner was startled to find it was directed at him. ¡°Your excellency, may I introduce to you --¡±


    ¡°The Butcher of Orchrisus,¡± said Emperor Caragalla, in a voice that was clearly excited but restrained. ¡°The man who¡¯s been carrying out my justice for the past decade. Welcome.¡±


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    It was only after a few long, awkward seconds that the executioner remembered his manners and dropped to his knee, bowing his head respectfully. ¡°Sire,¡± he greeted cautiously, throat suddenly dry and closed up.


    ¡°Rise,¡± Emperor Caragall said with a wave of his hand. ¡°There¡¯s no need to stand on ceremony with just the four of us in here.¡±


    Belatedly, the executioner realized the supreme arbiter was there as well, standing to the side and as quiet and serene as usual. ¡°Hello Omar,¡± he said. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve been well.¡±


    Omar bowed his head in acknowledgement. ¡°As well as can be expected with the stress of all of this hanging over us. I¡¯ll be glad when Kassim Nadir is dead and gone and we can rest easy. Have you been staying out of trouble?¡±


    ¡°Not even a little bit,¡± the executioner answered automatically. It was less weird, now that he knew about the compulsion. His answer served to make Omar laugh, a genuinely pleased and surprised sound. The emperor and then Amicus joined in, though it never reached Amicus¡¯ cold eyes.


    ¡°Before you came in here, we were talking about some of your past exploits,¡± Amicus said. ¡°The Emperor would love to hear some stories, if you have any.¡±


    The executioner tilted his head. Suddenly, he couldn¡¯t remember a single execution he¡¯d ever done. All of them were gone, and he was painfully aware that everyone was watching and waiting. He cleared his head, straightening up. ¡°It¡¯s been a long ten years,¡± he said, ¡°and in that time I¡¯ve nearly died, seriously came close, only a handful of times. One of those times was when a gladiator was arrested for rape and murder of a senator¡¯s son.¡±


    That was hardly a light topic, and the executioner regretted bringing it up as soon as the words left his mouth. But they were watching and listening intently. The emperor hadn¡¯t even asked him to take his mask off. They wanted a lurid story, he realized, not anything especially real. Emboldened, he continued, ¡°Of course I knew him personally. I trained with him for years. Even sparred against him more than a few times.


    ¡°So we knew how each other fought. He knew my weaknesses, and I knew a bunch of his. Something you might not know, excellency, is that most gladiators fight dirty. Anything to win a fight, and that goes double when your life''s on the line.¡±


    The emperor was rapt with attention. He leaned forward with his elbows on Amicus¡¯ desk, not making a sound. ¡°So what happened?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡¯ the executioner continued, ¡°he had a friend who didn¡¯t want him to die, and who didn¡¯t like me. We allowed him to fight in his armor and use his weapon and we made a real match of it, but his friend slipped him an extra weapon, a shiv. We fought, he and I, and I managed to disarm him. He jumped me and we grappled. When he got close enough, he pulled the shiv out and stabbed me, right here.¡± He pointed to a spot to the side of his stomach. Stuck me like a pig, nearly perforated my guts.


    ¡°It hurt worse than almost any other injury I¡¯ve had. It didn¡¯t drop me, but it came close and it put a timer on the rest of the fight before I dropped and he walked away a free man.¡±


    The emperor nodded enthusiastically. ¡°But he didn¡¯t. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the executioner grunted. ¡°Because I knew his weaknesses too. He knew I wouldn¡¯t see the extra weapon coming, and I knew he had a bad knee. I let him get close and I kicked his knee like this.¡± The executioner raised up enough to kick out sideways at nothing.


    The guards nearest him jumped and aimed their weapons at him. The executioner held his hands up, completely frozen. The emperor barely seemed to notice the tension, waving the guards off without looking up. Relieved, the executioner continued, ¡°Broke his knee, and his leg crumpled. I jumped on him and hit him a few times. He hit me too, but we¡¯re both hurting so bad it¡¯s coming slower now. He hit the shiv, still stuck in my side and I nearly passed out.


    ¡°If I wasn¡¯t careful, I was still going to lose. So I did something I knew would hurt him and make him panic.¡± The executioner extended his thumbs and mimicked jabbing them forward. ¡°I sat on his chest and gouged his eyes out. He screamed and clawed at my wrists but it was too late. Then I pulled the shiv out of my side and stabbed him through the neck, right here,¡± he tapped a spot on his breastplate where his chest met his neck.


    Amicus and Omar remained as silent as death for several seconds that dragged into forever. Then the emperor burst out laughing and clapping at the story. The executioner let out a relieved breath. ¡°Excellent, excellent!¡± Emperor Caragalla crowed. ¡°Stabbing him with the knife that he stabbed you with? That¡¯s cheeky. I want that kind of fire tonight when you end my would-be assassin.¡±


    The executioner bowed his head, smiling behind the mask. ¡°It was cheeky, but I nearly died of blood loss after. Demetrius, our trainer, nearly tore my head off for that one. I promise you the savant will die tonight, even if it kills me.¡±


    The emperor looked satisfied. ¡°Then it pleases me to present you with a special gift, Quentin Quintius.¡± He snapped and one of the guards lifted a box. He set it down in front of Quentin and retreated to his position. ¡°A gift worthy of the man who carries out my justice. The Emperor¡¯s justice. This is what I want you to kill my enemies with tonight.¡±


    Body buzzing with nervous energy, Quentin bent over and flipped the latch. The box opened to reveal one of the most gorgeous weapons he¡¯d ever seen. It was a mace, made to look like a king¡¯s scepter. It was made of a deep black material he was unfamiliar with, and it glittered in the bright light of the office. Along the shaft was the word ¡®justice¡¯ lad in almost glowing red. He lifted it up and tested the heft. It was heavy, but balanced well. Quentin gave it a roll of his wrist, feeling the way it moved as part of him.


    ¡°This is a wonderful gift, your excellency,¡± he said, genuinely in awe of the fact that the nation¡¯s leader gave him a personalized gift. So maybe it was meant to pad his own ego and be used as a symbol to Kassim¡¯s allies, it was beautiful and felt right in his hands. It had no spikes, but the way the head of the scepter was shaped it would do the job well.


    Then he realized what he was going up against. Four (three, he reminded himself) people with spears, working together to take him down while he had a heavy stick to beat their heads in with. This was already going to be difficult, but he was going to have to get close to have any chance of hurting them, and they were well equipped to keep him at a distance. The executioner looked up and saw Amicus smirking, as if he¡¯d been thinking the same thing.


    ¡°It will make for a fine spectacle tonight, I promise you that, your excellency,¡± Amicus said, removing all doubt. ¡°Quintius here is one of our best. Live or die, he¡¯ll give you a wonderful show, befitting a legendary ruler of your stature.¡± Amicus bowed his head graciously.


    ¡°One of?¡± The emperor cocked his head to the side. ¡°And here I was promised he was the best. He looks the best,¡± he laughed, motioning at Quentin.


    ¡°There¡¯s one or two other gladiators who could give him a run for his money,¡± Amicus said, nasty smirk growing wider and wider. ¡°After all, by his own admission the other gladiators are a match for him. And my man Cervenka is easily his equal. He¡¯s been wanting to test himself against Quintius for a while. I think you¡¯ll be most impressed with him tonight.¡±


    So that¡¯s how it was. Everything was going to be stacked against him so that Cervenka could take over. He was one of the few house gladiators that would do fights to the death. Most matches weren¡¯t lethal, as the Colosseum¡¯s gladiators were there to put on a show. But privately funded gladiators had time in the arena as well, and the more mercenary of them were willing to risk their lives for a bigger payday. It was honestly probably easier to execute prisoners in the ring.


    ¡°Your excellency, I have nothing but faith in Quentin,¡± Omar said, rising to his defense. ¡°He¡¯s been a faithful servant to the courts for a long time and he¡¯s never failed us.¡± He gave a pointed look to Amicus. ¡°He will put on the best show of all. Won¡¯t you?¡±


    The executioner nodded. Even with the odds stacked against him, he had a better reason to fight than normal. He had a reason to win, and to pull out all the stops. There would be no intentional mistakes, no giving his opponents the chance to win, or even strike him. He¡¯d do anything to make sure Maria survived until the end. It was then the executioner realized the trap Amicus set.


    He promised a good show, and then dangled a different gladiator in front of the emperor¡¯s eyes. If the executioner asked for clemency for Maria, as had just now occurred to him, it would be the same as admitting he wasn¡¯t equipped to handle fighting four opponents at once. But there was still the bargain he set with Amicus.


    ¡°Amicus,¡± he said. ¡°We had an agreement about one of the prisoners. You will honor it, yes?¡±


    Amicus¡¯ brows furrowed in confusion. ¡°What? Oh, right. That. Yes yes, Quintius, I¡¯ll keep my end of the bargain. Put on a good show and everything will be good.¡± There was that smile again. Like he was laughing at his own personal joke.


    No, the executioner didn¡¯t trust him at all, but at this point he had little choice but to go along with it. When the time came, if Amicus tried to force his hand by announcing to the crowd that he¡¯d do it to try to force him, he was in for a rude awakening. The audience loved it when things didn¡¯t go as expected. When Maria was the last one left, he would refuse no matter what Amicus said. The crowd would eat it up and the fat bastard would have to choose between letting Quentin win and salvaging what he could of the night or risk his reputation.


    The executioner bowed his head at all of them. ¡°Tonight will be a night to remember, your excellency.¡±

 Chapter 40: Let The Games Begin

    Chapter 40: Let the Games Begin


    Security down in the cells was even worse than up top. Worse than it had been all the past week. Now, the executioner couldn¡¯t walk more than ten feet without coming across another guard, most of them unfamiliar faces. They were taking this so seriously that for a few minutes, he genuinely thought about not going down to check on the prisoners. No amount of bother would keep him from making sure Maria was okay though.


    ¡°Fine, hurry it up,¡± the executioner sighed, raising his hands as the pair in front of the cells checked him, and checked his face as well.


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s a bit on edge tonight,¡± one of the guards said. ¡°So deal with it.¡±


    The executioner grunted in return and walked past them. The holding cells were the same depressing place they always were, made even worse by how full they were. Maria remained in the cell closest to the door. She was curled up in a ball on the ground, as far away from the bars as she could get. Philus sat close to her, reaching out at her and coming up just inches shy. If that wasn¡¯t bad enough, a copy of Kassim stood over Maria, whispering something the executioner couldn¡¯t make out but was doubtless awful.


    ¡°Attention,¡± one of the guards he did recognize said. The other guards stood at attention, and even the prisoners stood up. It was almost time, and there was an energy in the cells, a buzzing that had everyone wired. Even Philus and Kassim stood at the front of their cells, glaring balefully at him. He ignored them and went to Maria. ¡°Keep your hands where I can see them,¡± the guard said.


    Maria slowly got up and went to the front of the cell. Ignoring the guard, Quentin took her hand and squeezed it. ¡°I know this is a dumb question, but how are you holding up?¡± he whispered.


    Of course, being the asshole with nothing to lose he was, Kassim decided to start making as much noise as possible, amplified by two other versions of him around the room. All three began talking over each other, making the guards sigh but they did nothing else about it. He correctly guessed that they weren¡¯t going to damage him before the fight.


    ¡°They¡¯re hurting me,¡± Maria said, loudly to be heard over the savant. ¡°Every day since you left, they haven¡¯t given me a moment¡¯s peace. I¡¯m so tired Quentin¡­¡± She was near tears. Quentin couldn¡¯t blame her. Hearing her pain hurt him too.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t!¡± said the child rapist brightly. Graham had finally gotten up and peeked out of his cell. In the few times he¡¯d come by, Quentin had been borderline unnerved by how unbothered the man seemed by it all. ¡°I¡¯ve just been minding my own business. She¡¯s too old for the screams to be any good.¡±


    ¡°Shut up Graham,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°Right-o.¡±


    Philus sneered at Quentin. ¡°You¡¯re damned right we¡¯ve been hurting her. We may die soon, but she¡¯s going to die spending the last hours of her life miserable. Just because she¡¯s your friend.¡± He seemed pleased by it. No doubt it was his idea, and Kassim was happy to help along.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to die,¡± said Quentin, letting the anger and growing hate wash over him but not overtake him. ¡°But think of the bright side, Phil. You¡¯ll get to see Gregor soon. I imagine as close as you two were, the Darkstar will let you take your atonement together. You probably share many of the same sins. Your other friend. What was his name again?¡±


    ¡°His name is Markus,¡± said Philus, seething. ¡°At least he got away.¡±


    Quentin nodded, grinning fiercely behind his mask. ¡°For now. If pattern keeps, he¡¯ll come after me and my friends by this time next week. When that happens, should I complete the set? Or do you think he¡¯s smart enough to stay the fuck away?¡±


    One of the guards put their hand on his shoulder and pulled. Quentin let himself be pulled away. The guard shook her head warningly. It was then he realized just how shitty he was being. He didn¡¯t like Philus, and he was honestly glad to get him off the street permanently now that the bastard was in his territory and facing his rules. But just because Philus was cruel to Maria didn¡¯t mean it was okay to be cruel to him.


    ¡°Fuck you, Quentin,¡± Philus said, sighing and looking away. ¡°Markus didn¡¯t want any of this. He warned me this would turn out shitty. He wanted out, and I dragged him and Gregor into it.¡± He retreated to the back of the cell and slid down the wall until he was sitting. ¡°If I¡¯m glad for one thing, it¡¯s that he¡¯s safe from you, but you¡¯re not safe from him. He¡¯ll avenge us. It¡¯s what friends do. Not that you would know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got friends.¡± Quentin was pleased to be able to say that and mean it. It must¡¯ve come off as defensive, because Philus just snorted.


    ¡°Your friends are all whores.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to be expected,¡± said Kassim, the real him speaking up even as his copies continued to make incoherent noise. The sound was beginning to give Quentin a headache. ¡°Only the unclean would ever be friends with a monster like you.¡±


    Quentin made his way to Kassim¡¯s cell, wary of getting pissed on again. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be an assassin?¡± he demanded. ¡°Aren¡¯t assassins meant to be silent? What happened to that?¡±


    Kassim grinned at him, revealing missing teeth this time. The guards hadn¡¯t been kind to him for all his noise. ¡°I was, yes. But I got caught. No point in being quiet now, is there?¡± He laughed, echoing in on himself in layer after layer of cacophonous sound.


    The executioner sighed and cleared his throat. ¡°I don¡¯t know what all you¡¯ve been told about tonight. I think it¡¯s only fair if I give you a warning how this fight will be.¡± That was enough to silence Kassim. Even Graham perked up, eyes locked on him. He wasn¡¯t going to be sloppy or careless, but that didn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t have a conscience.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be outfitted with simple armor and given spears. You¡¯ll be taken topside and released into the arena, which has been converted into a large maze. From there, we will hunt each other. If I die, you all get to live and go free. You¡¯re best off working together.¡± He looked over at Maria, who somehow managed to look more terrified than before. ¡°And that¡¯s all.¡±


    The prisoners were silent. It was an improvement. The executioner nodded and went back to Maria. ¡°I have your daughter,¡± he said. ¡°And she¡¯s safe. No matter what happens tonight, she¡¯ll be safe. Okay?¡±


    Maria swallowed hard and nodded. She forced a smile onto her face. ¡°I know you won¡¯t let anything happen to her. But if you have to kill me, just...Make it painless.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t just tell her his plan. Not with the rest of them there listening to everything he said. So instead he sighed and said, ¡°focus on surviving. I¡¯ll...I¡¯ll save you for last.¡±


    I¡¯ll save you for last. Gods, what a jackass he was. Quentin berated himself the entire way back up the ramp. Of all the things he could try to say to make her feel better or be relieved, that was the stupidest and least effective. Maria had paled, but nodded as if that was a kindness in itself. Like she would be fine if he saved her for last. ¡°GodsDAMMIT,¡± he growled, making a nearby slave jump and reverse direction to get away from him. He didn¡¯t break his stride.


    Maybe they could have a good laugh about it at the end. Remember that time I almost killed you and then didn¡¯t at the last second? Good times. With great effort, Quentin banished the thoughts and focused instead on the upcoming games. He had work to do and it was going to be stressful and life threatening, but he still got to enjoy a show.


    He headed for one of the observation rooms above the ramps leading down. This is where the people who operated the gates worked, and often where the slaves and off duty employees enjoyed a good view and a free show each night. At first his presence ground everything to a halt, people dropping what they were doing to watch him as he took the main spot in front of the window. For once, Quentin didn¡¯t mind the cold fear they showed. He didn¡¯t have to fight anyone for the spot, and after a few seconds they worked around him as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest.


    Ten minutes or so until the events of the night started, and the stands were already packed to capacity. Even the steps beside the seats were packed with people standing, occasionally shoved aside by Colosseum workers selling food and drinks and souvenirs. Ten percent of the take was going to be ridiculous. Even if he didn¡¯t truly care about the money, there was still a part of him that felt immense satisfaction at knowing that out of all of Orchrisus and its territories across the desert and beyond, he was the single highest paid performer in all the empire.


    Thousands upon thousands of people, there to enjoy a show. His show. The worry about saving Maria and surviving were there but far, far away and getting further by the second. The sound of the crowd was like a drug, making him lighter and lighter on his feet until the executioner was all but bouncing from foot to foot as the time got closer. Louder and louder they got, until it was finally time.


    ¡°Welcome!¡± Amicus Brontes¡¯ voice rumbled from above, reverberating throughout the Colosseum. There wasn¡¯t a person within a half mile who couldn¡¯t hear him. ¡°Welcome welcome welcome, welcome one and welcome all! Are you ready for the show of your lives!?¡±


    The noise rose to a joyous cacophony. ¡°I can¡¯t hear you!¡± Louder and louder it peaked until the executioner felt the crowd in his bones better than he could hear them. When the noise finally tapered down, Amicus continued. ¡°What a LIVELY crowd we have here tonight! It¡¯s the only way to kick off the Blooming right. One final time, welcome to the Orchrisus Grand Colosseum!


    ¡°It is here, the final night of winter, the last day spent in darkness and gloom, in the season of the Darkstar. One last long night before the Pierced Heart goes from twin to twin, bringing us the spring with their love and devotion. A promise of life after death, an eternity in the Darkstar¡¯s realm. Tomorrow we honor the Pierced Heart with as much love and joy as we can muster, but tonight?


    ¡°Tonight we honor the Darkstar one final time before she rests, sated by the Pierced Heart¡¯s love for another year. Four souls, weighed and judged and sent to our lady of the dead to attend to her. Four sacrifices, to show our faith.


    ¡°We have wine!¡± The crowd cheered loudly. ¡°We have music!¡± Another cheer, accompanied by a completely arhythmic stomping as they tried and failed to make a beat together. ¡°We have the finest fighters in the world, ready to give a brutal re-enactment of the final fight that saved our country and let the world know we stand triumphant; Orchrisus, the flower of the desert!¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The executioner couldn¡¯t help but cheer as well, and he wasn¡¯t alone. The nearest employees stood at the window as well, blocked from sight by most but with a perfect view of the entire Colosseum. It was one thing to just hear the energy in the crowd. Even with his bad eyesight, the crowd was a constantly shifting mass, writhing in excitement. He and the others around him let out wordless cries, adding their voices to the celebration.


    ¡°We have the Butcher, hungry for blood after WEEKS of having to wait to indulge in carnage. He¡¯s waiting and eager to kill, eager to give us the Emperor¡¯s Justice.¡± There was no room for resentment or irritation in the executioner¡¯s heart then. There was only excitement, the feeling of all his hairs standing on end as the crowd began a chanter of his name. Butcher! Butcher! Butcher! They were godsdamned right he was the Butcher. This was his home, this is where he belonged.


    ¡°We have the Emperor himself here to watch over the fun and games! And it¡¯s without further ado that I humbly demand you all rise for his Excellency, Emperor Caragalla!¡±


    The audience reached their new loudest peak as people screamed and howled and clapped and stomped their feet for the ruler of Orchrisus. Most of them couldn¡¯t give a fuck about him on any given day, but there at a special time and place there was a surge of patriotism. Which was exactly what this entire show was about, the executioner supposed. He couldn¡¯t deny his own feeling of love for his country, as brutal and heartless a place as it could be.


    There was the sound of whispers, and a low humming as Amicus passed his scepter over to the emperor, who cleared his throat right into it. ¡°Welcome, my people, and thank you for being here to honor the gods, and to honor me.¡±


    Immediately some of the fervor was gone. The emperor, the executioner noted, was a far less impressive speaker than Amicus. He had less energy, his voice was reedier and had a wavering sort of confidence that said people had to listen to him, but he wouldn¡¯t be the ones making them. He hadn¡¯t made it through his entire career being bad at speaking, but it was a step backwards from the Colosseum¡¯s owner.


    ¡°My loyal citizens, you may have heard the rumors regarding an assassin. Tonight, I¡¯m here to tell you they were true. Exaggerated but true. Yes, there was an attempt on my life. It was foiled easily by my guards, and now the coward will die before your eyes tonight. This was not the first attempt on my life, gods know it won¡¯t be the last.


    ¡°There was nothing special in this last attempt, save that the would-be killer is a savant.¡±


    A hushed gasp spread across the Colosseum. Savants were uncommon, and those who were open and up front about having an ability were prone to higher scrutiny and faced little tolerance of abuse. Orchrisus was hardly the worst place in the world to be a savant, but only because they faced the same cold brutality everyone else in the city faced. The only difference was who did the killing.


    ¡°Rather than have my mageslayer take care of it, I¡¯ve decided to give him to you. Another year has passed, another year of fighting to live in the world¡¯s most hostile environment. Orchrisus thrives. Another year of working and suffering for our dreams and our passions. Orchrisus thrives. An attempt on the life of the Emperor is an attack on Orchrisus herself. But¡­¡±


    The entire Colosseum erupted with life. ¡°ORCHRISUS THRIVES!¡± they cried back. The sound echoed as people came in late or repeated it. The emperor was silence as they went wild, screaming their defiance and vitality in equal measure.


    ¡°ORCHRISUS THRIVES!¡± The emperor bellowed one last time. ¡°The season of darkness and death is over. Let us march boldly and swiftly into a season of life, love, and prosperity. Tomorrow, let us celebrate the Blooming! Tonight? Tonight the blood is spilled in tribute of the Darkstar, and in tribute to all of us. Take the blood of the wicked and wash it away for the fresh start of a new year!¡±


    The crowded cheered again and again, refusing to die down this time. The executioner waited patiently, finding his own fervor dying as Emperor Caragalla finished his speech. It was easy to get swept up with it, until you really listened. Knowing one of his friends was considered unclean in multiple ways was enough to ruin his enjoyment of the spectacle. He¡¯d do what he could to enjoy himself, but there was no relaxing until Maria was safe.


    Outside the observation deck, the Colosseum came to life. Workers forced their way through the thick crowd, making a path for the musicians to come down to the stage. The stage was where the Arena was, laid on top of the maze seamlessly. All of the Colosseum slaves would be busy tonight, moving and arranging things for the show. It wasn¡¯t easy transforming the Colosseum, but Orchrisus was an empire of artists and builders, and nothing could be too good for the show.


    Alongside the musicians came slaves carrying smaller scepters, similar to the one Amicus used. The entire twelve piece band fit onto the stage in the center, surrounded by scepters propped up. They were little more than colorful blobs at this distance. The executioner found himself wishing he could wear his shades with the mask, but it was too late for that and too awkward besides.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± said Amicus, ¡°allow me to present to you Orchrisus¡¯ own...Dunewalla Feeding Frenzy!¡±


    One of the slaves lifted and waved a banner. If he screwed up his eyes, the executioner could make out what looked like a black shape of one of the large lizards, surrounded by blood. The band started playing, drums and cymbals crashing loudly and echoing from the enchanted mouths hanging around the Colosseum. Then came the strings and three voices, singing together. They didn¡¯t sound bad, exactly, but the executioner could hardly make out the words.


    ¡°They sound like shit,¡± a voice said from behind him.


    The executioner grunted his agreement without turning around. He recognized that voice, and it was hard enough keeping his head on straight without giving in to anger and accusing the man of going behind his back with Amicus and trying to get him killed. Or just hitting the son of a bitch. The time for accusations was over.


    ¡°All right, Quintius?¡± Cervenka said, stepping beside him. He was a tall, rangy wolf of a man. Dark hair, dark sharp features on a face that were handsome, in a wicked sort of way. He was dressed for battle as well, and not in the Colosseum¡¯s usual armor. That made sense. Half the gladiators were going to be putting on an exhibition match dressed as enemies from the past.


    ¡°No,¡± said the executioner, keeping his head forward while the band played energetically and the crowd cheered along. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say so.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that? Nervous about the upcoming fight?¡± Cervenka said, suspiciously serious sounding. ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame you. It¡¯s enough to make a lesser man run away.¡±


    ¡°So run away.¡±


    Cervenka let out a hearty laugh, completely unphased. ¡°I like your spirit, Quintius. For what it¡¯s worth, I hope you succeed tonight. Four people, odds are at least one of them will inspire you to put on a show instead of just...Killing them and being done with it.¡± He made a face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll succeed,¡± said the executioner. ¡°I haven¡¯t failed yet.¡±


    ¡°Ehhhhhhh,¡± Cervenka made a noise, wiggling his hand in the air in doubtful motion. ¡°That¡¯s up for some debate. I guess it¡¯s kind of a good show when you just slit their throat and spray blood everywhere, but personally? It gets old. It¡¯s over too quickly and you¡¯ve only got one good arterial spray before they die.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall asking you.¡± The executioner took a deep breath and let it out. That was the worst part of people like Cervenka. He could sound as pleasant as can be while saying nothing but incendiary things the entire time. More than a few other gladiators took a swing at him, only for him to retaliate far worse. At least two people had attacked him and ended up crippled over the last ten years.


    Not that the executioner was truly tempted to try anything. If he did, it wouldn¡¯t be the same as those other attempts. No, if Quentin lost his temper and went after Cervenka, he feared he wouldn¡¯t stop until the other man was dead and this was absolutely not the time or the place for it. Which is why, naturally, Cervenka was having fun with him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t ask anyone anything, Quintius. That¡¯s your problem.¡± Cervenka crossed his arms over his chest and leaned sideways against the window, mostly facing the executioner. ¡°What kind of a performer doesn¡¯t want to improve their performance? Have you ever considered retiring?¡± He wore a shit eating grin on his face.


    The executioner ignored him, but that didn¡¯t stop Cervenka. ¡°Not tonight, obviously. You¡¯ve got four people to kill, or die trying. But after? Think of it. You could end after tonight and be considered the best the Colosseum ever saw. The one executioner to go undefeated. Well, until the handsome replacement beats your record, eventually. But that¡¯s all in good time.¡±


    ¡°The problem with that,¡± the executioner said, taking the bait, ¡°is that there¡¯s no one currently worthy of taking up the mantle. If I quit, then chances are we¡¯ll lose the next three arrogant jackasses who think they could do this job. And then the Colosseum¡¯s reputation would plummet. We can¡¯t have that, just because someone¡¯s ego demands more.¡± He was actually proud of the way he kept looking past Cervenka to the band playing on. The executioner smiled, grateful for his mask.


    Unfortunately, Cervenka wasn¡¯t bothered. ¡°The Colosseum¡¯s reputation is already plummeting,¡± he said. ¡°The thing is, people love a good winning streak. But they love it even more when that streak ends. You could quit and be a legend and people would be excited for you and love you forever, but when you die you¡¯ll eventually be forgotten as just another executioner. No one wins every match, Butcher. Not even you. Strongly consider retiring. I¡¯m just trying to look out for a fellow brother in arms.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Quentin said. ¡°You¡¯re not looking out for anyone but yourself here. Same as you always do. You know why people don¡¯t want to be partnered with you ever. You¡¯re a glory seeking pissant who thinks you¡¯re better than you are. Do you think me stupid?¡±


    ¡°Honestly? I --¡±


    ¡°I know you and Amicus have been trying to set me up. He doesn¡¯t expect me to survive this fight. And neither do you, I¡¯m guessing. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, trying to psych me out and throw me off my game. It¡¯s pathetic, Cervenka. You could be a great gladiator if you weren¡¯t such a shitty person.¡± The more he spoke, the more the anger burned lower, until it was all but gone. Something like pity reached Quentin¡¯s voice.


    The smile and false joviality was gone. He said nothing for several long seconds, instead looking out at the band and the tens of thousands of cheering faces. The executioner almost thought he won this round until Cervenka shook his head and let out a low laugh. ¡°Truthfully, I don¡¯t give a damn whether you live or die tonight, Quintius.


    ¡°Your time is over, whether you live or not. This is just one last big hurrah until Amicus can shitcan you. Win? Lose? Whatever. Tonight you¡¯re getting one final courtesy of your own before you¡¯re gone forever. I¡¯ll be replacing you.¡± He turned his smirk over to Quentin. ¡°One way or another I¡¯m going to come out on top and make my start by cleaning up the mess you¡¯ve made of the position.¡±


    Cervenka pushed away from the wall and stood in front of the executioner. He was very nearly as tall, and while he wasn¡¯t built like the executioner was, he was still in top shape and had just a bit of reach on him. And most of all, he looked convinced, absolutely certain that what he was speaking was the truth.


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn,¡± said Quentin, lying. ¡°After tonight I¡¯ll deal with Amicus. Omar, you might know him as the Supreme Arbiter,¡± he said, knowing he was being petty and not caring, ¡°likes me too much to have me replaced. I get the job done in a humane way. You¡¯d torture them for a good show. I¡¯m not going to let that happen.¡±


    Cervenka just smiled at him. He didn¡¯t say anything, he didn¡¯t make a show of mocking or doubting Quentin, and that was probably worse than if he had. All he did was smile and clap the executioner on the shoulder. ¡°The Supreme Arbiter doesn¡¯t manage the Colosseum. Amicus does. And Amicus likes me. See you soon, Butcher.¡±


    It took every bit of Quentin¡¯s control to not grab Cervenka by the arm and to throw him out the fucking window. Audiences like a good surprise, right? Chances are he wouldn¡¯t even die, just suffer from -- Quentin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He counted to ten and then let it out. This was beneath him. He didn¡¯t need to get mad and rise to every barb from the Colosseum¡¯s second biggest asshole. Cervenka was just trying to get under his skin.


    And it worked. That was the worst part of all. He wasn¡¯t exactly subtle in his attempts to be a massive prick, but it still worked and Quentin still felt like he was seething heat from all of his pores. Maybe things were stacked against him, but that didn¡¯t matter. Unlike Cervenka, Quentin had something to fight for. He had people to fight for.


    There was Maria and her daughter Tricia, obviously. Those were who he fought for most that night, but they weren¡¯t alone. He was going to fight and survive for Demetrius and Jonas, the only people in the Colosseum who liked him. He was going to fight for Razia, who despite being shady and constantly up to something was probably his best friend. Most of all, he was going to fight for himself.


    Because the Colosseum was his place, and Quentin was its king. He didn¡¯t get half the respect he deserved and got way more than twice the crap he needed, but this was his home. There was no way Cervenka, or Amicus, or anybody else would take it from him. Looking out at the band, now playing a slower, morbid song of winter, Quentin promised himself that he would come out of this alive.


    If only to stick it to the people who hated him.

 Chapter 41: The Maze

    Chapter 41: The Maze


    In the end, nerves did get to Quentin. The band hadn¡¯t finished playing their set before he got impatient and headed down to the gate he entered the arena for. When Demetrius and the others did their dramatic re-enactment of the Battle of Qali Major, they did it from the other side of the stage, above the maze he¡¯d be fighting in. Rather than watch and cheer his friends on, the executioner headed down early and listened to the action instead.


    ¡°The defenders of Orchrisus are looking ragged!¡± Amicus bellowed, sounding genuinely ecstatic to be commentating on a fixed match. ¡°The Ramali extremists and their Avarastian allies are too many! But wait, what¡¯s this? REINFORCEMENTS!¡±


    The wooden stage thundered as a dozen more people came out to fight. Quentin heard all of this, but saw only the first path of the maze. The ramp opened up and immediately split into two directions. Whatever was past that, he had no clue. He¡¯d have to learn very quickly, very quietly, how to get around without making a racket and to not be ambushed by three and a half foes.


    The longer he stared at that bit of wood, hearing the clash of metal on metal and screams of the injured above, the more Quentin¡¯s guts worked themselves into knots. He had to force himself to relax and not grip his mace and shield as hard. Relaxing just made his hands throb more, which made him grip them harder, and


    The executioner took a breath. Amicus shouted again, but he forced himself not to listen. This was going to be the fight of his life, and it was going to be good. He¡¯d be cheered on by thousands as he did his job, won, and saved Maria. All that mattered was him, his nerves, and his heartbeat. The rest of the world could wait. He breathed in and out and forcibly relaxed his muscles, from his head to his toes.


    That was better. The nerves weren¡¯t gone, but they were far away, running in circles in his head. They were easier to block out now, and focus on his surroundings. The walls of the maze stood about six feet high. The executioner couldn¡¯t easily stand there without bumping his head on the stage above the walls. The top of his head would poke over and give him away if he wasn¡¯t careful. It was hard to tell with only one small section visible to him, but it looked like there would be plenty of space for him to swing his weapon without worrying about hitting the walls. It was the little bits of information like that that helped him get his head into the game.


    ¡°And with one final blaze of glory, the Legionnaires broke the Ramali extremists and won the war!¡± The audience screamed yet again, but it was a bit more subdued than in the past. The thunder of dozens of feet walking along the wood and off the stage had lightning coursing through the executioner¡¯s veins. It was almost time.


    ¡°That was but a paltry twenty years ago, and the last war Orchrisus has had to face. Ever since then, the world knew of the folly of attacking us. We control the deserts, the sandstorms, and the water. We control the art and creation envied by all the rest of the world. We are the soldiers and the rangers, patrolling the only safe paths through the great desert, we are the workers eternally building for a better tomorrow. We are¡­¡±


    ¡°ORCHRISUS!¡± The crowd shouted. The executioner pounded his shield with the mace. No one could see him, but it didn¡¯t matter. He was part of this hellhole of a city too. The crowd went on for a while, kicking back up when people drew breath to call out again before tapering off into nothing. A silent buzz, as everyone knew what was coming next.


    ¡°And now, for the moment everyone¡¯s been waiting for¡­¡± Silence, so thick you could taste it.


    There was a rumble, and light poured through to the ramp as the stage retracted into the sides of the Colosseum, slaves working together to work the crank that would open the arena back up. Those nearest the ramp peered inward and, upon seeing him, pointed and screamed. The executioner pointed his mace at a woman who looked like she was going to have a heart attack.


    ¡°Release the prisoners!¡± Amicus crowed. The cheers turned to a mix of boos and jeers as the other four were forced up the ramps from the other three locations. For a brief moment, Quentin had the horrifying thought of Maria and Philus going up together, only for him to immediately skewer her on his spear. He banished the thought. There was no point in thinking about what-ifs. Not yet.


    ¡°Now...Unleash the BUTCHER!¡± The gates in front of him swung outwards slowly. The executioner burst forth from the ramp, jogging forward and raising his shield and weapon. The audience went nuts and the closest of them started making a jabbing motion with their fingers. Looking around, he soon realized they were pointing him in the direction of the prisoners.


    He tore his eyes away. That would make it easier, but it wouldn¡¯t be a fair battle. That¡¯s something Cervenka would use, not him. The executioner raised his shield and took a left at the first crossroads, which led around a long corner to a place where it forked. The walls of the maze were thick and sturdy. He took a moment to shove on it, and it didn¡¯t move. There was no breaking the maze, or crashing a wall on someone. Good to know.


    For all of the ambient sound in the background, things in the arena were muted. The executioner moved through slowly, painfully aware of the crunch of his boot on the sand below. The smart thing to do would be to stay in one place and wait for sounds to get closer, and maybe ambush them. The dumbest thing he could do was go into the middle and present a chance for the prisoners to surround him.


    He headed for the center, keeping his head down low and shield up. His mace rested on his shoulder, at ease but ready to bring it crashing down on the first unlucky bastard he came across. Sand gave way to stone and he was grateful for the quiet. Every corner he passed was preceded with a wary look around the corner. A quick glance up and the nearest audience members, little better than colorful blobs, seemed to be pointing somewhere close to him.


    Dammit. The executioner rounded the corner to find a small, hunched figure hiding behind a spear. ¡°The Butcher has found Graham Calhoun, child rapist and unrepentant monster!¡± cried Amicus. Graham panicked, moving backwards even as he jabbed his spear forward. The executioner smacked the spear to the side with his shield and swung his mace. He missed, barely, and the impact of the weapon against the stone shot up his arm, making it numb.


    Graham let out a scared cry and scurried away, running around the corner. Quentin picked himself up and charged after him, the dark part of his brain already enjoying the anticipation of the chase. He turned the same corner Graham did and stopped short, just as a spear came right at his face. It brushed the side of his mask as Quentin skidded to a stop. Philus pulled the spear back, grinning at him.


    ¡°Look at that, the prisoners are working together to trap the Butcher! Together, they stand a chance. Especially with...Look behind you, Butcher!¡± Quentin couldn¡¯t help but do as Amicus said, whirling around in time to see Kassim running at him, spear raised. The savant leapt into the air and brought the spear down on his chest. It was too late to move. The executioner braced himself for impact, but nothing came. The copy¡¯s spear went through his chest before the copy disappeared, grinning maliciously.


    That was when Philus¡¯ spear stabbed into the back of his armor, piercing the chitin and driving the metal tip into Quentin¡¯s back. A surprised yelp tore its way through his throat and he whirled around again, blocking the next thrust that came his way.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t really seem fair,¡± Philus shouted to be heard over the crowd. Graham was nowhere to be seen now, but the executioner didn¡¯t judge him to be much of a threat. ¡°You get good armor, and we¡¯re stuck in this shit.¡± He wore simple leather armor that looked half decent. It was better than what prisoners usually got. ¡°Oh well,¡± he said. ¡°Still going to avenge Gregor and then I¡¯m gonna go kill Razia too.¡±


    ¡°Here we have Philus the scum of the street. A thief, a bully, a petty killer. But doesn¡¯t he look handy with a spear, folks?¡± The audience laughed as Philus cried out and thrust out wildly. The executioner backed away from the attack, twisting and pivoting out of the way of several thrusts. Then a small, wiry man jumped on his back and positioned the spear around his throat and pulled.


    ¡°Oh oh OH! Kassim Nadir, savant and assassin, jumping on the Butcher¡¯s back and leaving him open to be skewered! Teamwork, people, it gets shit done! Look out, Butcher!¡± Amicus¡¯ laughter echoed throughout the Colosseum.


    Quentin swung his entire body around, trying to dislodge the savant from his back, but Kassim was on good and his grip was tight. The edges of the world grew fuzzy and panic flared in the executioner¡¯s chest as his oxygen was cut off. Philus leveled his spear at his chest and charged forward, roaring.


    He swung around again, and the spear went into Kassim¡¯s leg, making the Savant cry out and relax his grip. It was enough for the executioner to elbow the much smaller man and get him off. Quentin sucked in a greedy breath, moving out of the way as Philus stabbed at him again. Blood dripped from the tip of his spear and onto the stone.


    ¡°Ooh, almost!¡± Quentin turned and swung the mace around where he last saw Kassim¡¯s head. The savant raised his own flimsy shield. The mace obliterated it, sending hunks of wood everywhere as the shield shattered. Kassim let out a pained cry as the impact went up his arm. He rolled away, gasping as his injured arm hit the ground. Then he was up and the air shimmered and three of him ran away, dripping blood from his injured leg.


    Quentin turned around and raised his shield in time to block Philus¡¯ next thrust. The wiry fighter was tenacious, and he had a hate for the executioner even the savant didn¡¯t have. It was personal for him, and he jabbed again and again. His attacks were wild and it was all Quentin could do to dodge them, breathing heavily with the exertion.


    Finally one stab went high and the executioner moved in, swinging his scepter right into Philus¡¯ gut. The man folded in half, letting out a breathless hiss as the wind was knocked out of him. His spear and shield clattered to the ground. He looked up at the executioner with wide eyes, seeing the end coming. Quentin raised his mace, ready to end him. That¡¯s when he heard the scream from the side, terrified and feminine. Cursing, the executioner kicked Philus in the face, taking a sick pleasure from feeling the crunch of his nose again and he took off. ¡°Too easy, much too easy! The Butcher saves him for later, and runs off in search of his real prey.¡±


    The maze was really not much of one. After a few minutes running around in it, it was mostly just twisty and turny and ushered the combatants between tight corridors and a few wide open places to fight. It was one of those, on the sand, where he found Maria battling for her life. Graham was there on one side of her, Kassim on the other. Maria looked close to tears, jolting whenever one of them poked at her.


    ¡°Get the fuck away from her,¡± Quentin bellowed, closing the distance. Once again Graham let out a little yelp and got the hell out of his way. The shrunken older man wasn¡¯t going to be a threat on his own. The executioner let him go in time to see Kassim diving forward with the spear tucked under his arm, the other one cradled uselessly at his side.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°The Butcher goes for the Savant, hunting his prey as they toy with the woman to lure him close. Trap after trap, the Savant is a cunning opponent, and...OH, that looked like it hurt!¡± Quentin raised his shield but it was too late. The tip pierced his shield arm in the bicep and pain flooded his world, hot and insistent.


    Kassim didn¡¯t stop to admire his work. He pulled, yanking out the spear along with a chunk of the executioner¡¯s flesh. Pain was like a haze, blocking out everything but his damaged arm and screaming for Quentin to do something about it. He let out a roar and brought the mace down as Kassim stabbed the point Philus had bored into his armor. There was more pain and then a crunch as the spear was smashed in half by the falling weapon.


    Dropping the splintered spear, he took off again, laughing madly. He¡¯d drawn blood. Kassim may have been injured too, but he drew blood against the executioner. Those two wounds weren¡¯t enough to put him down, but they were enough to slow him and tire him. With the second trap, he¡¯d managed to put a time limit on the rest of the match. Either Quentin would end them, or he¡¯d weaken until he couldn¡¯t fight back.


    ¡°The Savant dances in and out of the Butcher¡¯s reach, wounding him and retreating before he can be wounded in return. The Butcher and the Savant are one and one now. What will round three have in store?¡± The fickle crowd cheered louder, excited at the idea that he might lose.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Quentin asked Maria, giving his shield arm a test roll. Pain made him stop almost immediately. His shield was going to be largely ornamental for the rest of the battle, if he couldn¡¯t raise it fast enough.


    ¡°Y-yeah, I think so. They didn¡¯t do anything to me.¡± Maria panted, clutching her spear tight to her chest. The leather armor fit poorly on her, and it would¡¯ve looked comical if she wasn¡¯t fighting to stay alive. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, I¡¯ll keep out of their way.¡± Quentin nodded and retreated back into the maze.


    He went after the old man first. Kassim, wherever he was, was doubtlessly already laying another trap for the executioner. Philus¡¯ location was entirely unknown, but that was twice Graham was the bait for the trap. It was time to remove him entirely. Going down the same path, the executioner kept his head low and did his best to ignore the burning pain in his arm and his back. He rounded a corner in time to see Graham disappear.


    Rather than go for it again, the executioner doubled back and went around. This wasn¡¯t a true labyrinth, where there was only one true path in and out. This maze was meant to be used to hunt one¡¯s opponents, and that applied for him just as much as it did for the prisoners. He found Graham shortly, huddling behind a wall and shivering. The old man didn¡¯t hear him come up. Quentin raised his mace.


    ¡°The first kill of the night is¡­NOW!¡± Amicus screamed, ruining everything. Graham jolted in place, looking up in time to throw himself forward and miss the heavy hunk of metal coming straight for his head. The mace collided with the wooden wall and the impact nearly made Quentin drop the weapon. Instead he stepped forward, kicking out at Graham¡¯s ass and sending him sprawling.


    He wasted no time in stepping on the man. The executioner¡¯s entire body quivered with excitement. He swung the mace up and over, giving it all of his momentum and weight and brought it down on Graham¡¯s skull. The impact was nothing compared to hitting the wall, but unlike the wall there was a sick, wet crunch as the old man¡¯s head caved in and brain and blood spattered everywhere like a popped zit. Blood shot across his mask, his arms, his hands. Quentin raised his bloodied weapon and the crowd screamed his name.


    ¡°One down, three to go!¡± The executioner straightened up, breathing heavily. Satisfaction flooded his senses, but he shook it off. There was no sense in celebrating prematurely. Dragging his mace along the sand to blot up the blood so it wouldn¡¯t drip, he left Graham¡¯s corpse behind.


    Now that the first prisoner was dead, the executioner was alert and buzzing with energy. The pain from his wounds burned like ice, cold and distant. He let his instincts take him into the maze, head darting around wildly at the any hint of a sound or vision from the corner of his eye. It was quiet in there, almost as if they were hiding from him now. Well, they couldn¡¯t have that.


    ¡°Philus~¡± Quentin called, dragging his mace along the wooden wall, making a terrible scraping sound. ¡°Where are you? You wanted your vengeance for Gregor right? Come take it. I¡¯m right here. One good fight, you and me, and you can walk free.¡± Normally he wasn¡¯t the type to taunt a prisoner. But Philus wasn¡¯t just a prisoner. He was a canker sore of a person and this was personal.


    The sounds of sand stirring had the executioner looking up. Nothing appeared in his immediate vision, but more sounds started up. Kassim ran in front of him, laughing loudly. He didn¡¯t bother following the copy, instead backing up and taking an alternate route around where the figure had run from. Sure enough, there was Philus, clutching his spear and one side of his ribs delicately.


    ¡°Hello Philus,¡± said Quentin, stepping forward. Philus whirled around on him and thrust the spear hard and fast at his throat. Quentin tilted his upper body to the side and moved past the weapon. Philus had enough time to look shocked as the executioner double gripped the weapon and swung it right into the gang member¡¯s chest.


    The wet crunch told him it was a good hit. The way Philus dropped to his ass and gasped for air on the ground confirmed it. He hacked and coughed and struggled for even the tiniest bit of air, coughing up blood. Then there was the look in his eyes, the panicked realization that this was it. There was no rescue or escape coming. Quentin¡¯s pulse quickened. He raised his mace again.


    Kassim came for him from the side, charging right into him and sending him sprawling. The savant was not a large man, but he was furious and fast and clambered off of Quentin as soon as they hit the ground. He scrambled for his spear and raised it enough to bring it down. Quentin twisted his arm, crying out with pain from torturous effort, and the shield came up in time to stop the spear from going into his throat. It bit into the wood, burying deep inside until the tip protruded out the back.


    Still, Kassim pushed, as if he could bore a way through the shield and right into the executioner¡¯s neck. Quentin pushed, but between his injuries and the weight of his armor and the man above him, he was stuck. Another wriggle, and the hole in the shield widened and the wedge tip protruded further. Another good push and it might go right through.


    ¡°Say goodbye, Quentin,¡± Kassim hissed, shoving down so hard his arms trembled. No one was more surprised than him when Maria showed up, swinging the shaft of her spear like a club into the back of his head. ¡°What¡¯s this? A betrayal from the thieving whore! She¡¯s working against her own team now, no doubt hoping for mercy when it¡¯s all over!¡± And there was Amicus, setting up sparing her at the end.


    That was all Quentin needed to throw him off to the side. He fought to get to his feet, world turning upside down for a second as he righted himself. His arm wasn¡¯t gushing blood but it was bleeding freely, and the burning in his back was getting worse. But now he had the upper hand. ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered to Maria, who backed away, holding her spear tightly against her chest.


    ¡°N-no problem,¡± she said, eyes darting around wildly between the savant and the dying street scum. When Kassim got to his feet, Maria let out a yelp and got the hell out of there. Quentin faced the savant, breathing heavily, gripping his mace tightly. He let the man get to his feet. Kassim looked at him and nodded, grateful or at least acknowledging the fair move. He took the spear from the slowly dying Philus, who gurgled something indeterminable at him.


    ¡°Look¡¯s like it¡¯s just you and me,¡± said Quentin, smiling behind his mask. He brought the mace down on the spear sticking out of his shield until only the tip remained, imbedded deeply. ¡°You ready to end this, Kassim?¡±


    ¡°Pft,¡± Kassim scoffed. ¡°As long as your whore friend is here, it¡¯s not just you and me.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t interfere again,¡± said Quentin, loud enough for Maria to hear him if she hadn¡¯t gone far. ¡°Besides, with you? Never one on one, is it?¡±


    Kassim grinned at him. ¡°No. No, I suppose it isn¡¯t. Come at me then, Butcher. Come and meet your death!¡±


    Amicus said something else, but Quentin was no longer listening. It was just white noise in the background, along with his adoring fans. They didn¡¯t matter now. Only Kassim did, now shimmering and splitting into three different versions of him and sliding across the sand to surround him. The air remained hazy, like the heat shimmer on the midday streets. Even with his copies staying they seemed to pulse and wave, like all three of them were unclear.


    This time though, Quentin knew the secret behind the copies. Two of them appeared to be strong, fierce, and ready to put an end to him. One of them was bleeding from a leg wound and favored one arm. The illusions didn¡¯t copy over the damage, and they sure as hell didn¡¯t leave a trail of blood on the ground. They were in an open-ish section of the maze, an intersection of paths that led to the rest of the maze. The Kassims circled him slowly. Quentin turned, body taut and ready to spring into action.


    He let the man think he was overwhelmed, head turning around wildly trying to keep up with the hypnotic movement of the three Kassims in motion. When there were two copies in front of him, Quentin let out a fierce cry and raised his weapon. The first copy came at him, then the second. Their spears formed an X, ready to pierce him no matter which way he dodged.


    Quentin stepped backward and swung his mace at the real one who had come up to stab him in the back. He had just enough time to see the look of surprise on Kassim¡¯s face as the savant¡¯s forward momentum stopped at the chest but his legs continued forward. The crowd screamed as Kassim went from an almost laying in the air position to being flat on the ground. The copies disappeared.


    Panting, Quentin surveyed his work. The savant¡¯s chest was all but caved in. He was struggling to breathe as well, chest hitching violently. A quick glance Philus¡¯ way showed he was no longer moving. He died slow and painfully. Cruelly, really. Quentin wouldn¡¯t let that happen with Kassim.


    ¡°May the Darkstar show you fair judgment and mercy,¡± he said clearly before bringing the mace down on Kassim¡¯s skull.


    The audience erupted with joy. Even Amicus was cheering him on. ¡°Orchrisus¡¯ most deadly assassin, now dead at the hands of the Butcher! Three out of four condemned souls dead now, with only a couple of injuries to show for it. One remains, Butcher. Finish her!¡±


    No, that wasn¡¯t going to happen. Quentin threw his weapon to the side. One of the slaves would retrieve it and clean it for him afterward. He didn¡¯t envy the work they had cut out for them. He held his hands up in triumph, ignoring the screaming coming from his left arm. The pain from it and his back returned with a vengeance, and he had a suspicion he was bleeding worse than he thought. Philus had nearly skewered him from behind, and would¡¯ve succeeded if it hadn¡¯t been for his armor.


    All these thoughts he put behind him as he went to find Maria. She wasn¡¯t far. She dropped her spear and run up, hugging him, to the confusion of the audience. Quentin didn¡¯t give a damn. He hugged her back and squeezed her tightly. ¡°You should be safe now,¡± he said. ¡°Amicus promised that if you were the last one standing, I wouldn¡¯t have to kill you.¡±


    Maria laughed. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad for that. Thank you, Quentin.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you for stopping me from getting killed. Wouldn¡¯t have survived without you.¡± Quentin grinned and burst out laughing, full of happy relief.


    The crowd started up again, but they didn¡¯t matter anymore. They¡¯d done it, and now it was time to get the hell out of here and reunite Maria with her daughter. So when Amicus started up again, Quentin was slow to notice what was being said, and even slower to react.


    ¡°What¡¯s this? WHO¡¯S this? An unknown, masked man has come out onto the arena! Look at him move, people, dancing along the tops of the maze!¡± Quentin looked up, confused.


    Right in time to see a tall, lean man wearing light armor, and a helmet with the mask of a grotesque bird, complete with a fierce hooked beak, stop on the length of wall nearest them. The man carried a large bolter, which he aimed down at the two of them. Quentin understood a second too late as the figure fired a bolt directly into Maria¡¯s chest. And then another, and another. Each impact had her stagger backwards, mouth formed in a silent O of surprise and terror.


    Maria slumped to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the wall behind her. Quentin dropped to his knees. ¡°No¡­¡± he said, disbelieving what he was seeing. And then the pieces came together.


    If she was the last one left, then Quentin wouldn¡¯t have to kill her. See you soon, Cervenka had said.


    ¡°Allow me the pleasure of introducing the newest executioner to the Colosseum, the Death Hawk!¡±

 Chapter 42: End of an Era

    Chapter 42: End of an Era


    Maria¡¯s chest hitched violently each time she tried to breathe. The bolts sticking out of her chest were grouped together tightly. Cervenka was, if nothing else, a good shot. A slow, shuddering hand reached up to touch one. She jerked from the pain, letting out a pitiful whimper. She had the realization in her eyes now. This was it, there was no coming back. Maria looked over to Quentin pleadingly.


    Quentin was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch it all play out in front of him mutely. He looked up to Cervenka, heart pounding and hate coursing through him. ¡°You son of a bitch,¡± he whispered.


    Cervenka dropped to the ground, grunting as his knees took the six foot fall. He pumped the bolter and aimed it at Maria. Quentin positioned himself between the two of them. ¡°You son of a bitch,¡± he growled, all but shouting it.


    ¡°Just doing the job, Butcher,¡± Cervenka said. Quentin could hear the smug smile on his stupid face. Cervenka kept the bolter up, aimed directly at Quentin. He stood with his usual lazy grace, but he was not relaxed. He had reason to worry, and Quentin had half a mind to confirm those worries. ¡°We knew you weren¡¯t going to do it, so I did. Told you I¡¯d have your job.¡±


    ¡°She was innocent!¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Cervenka shrugged. ¡°Not our job to care about that. Just smile and wave to the crowd and come on inside. I¡¯m thinking we¡¯ll alternate shows. With two of us, we won¡¯t have to wait for the one executioner to heal up before the next fight. Amicus should¡¯ve done this years ago, really.¡±


    ¡°Q-q-q¡­¡± Was all Maria managed to get out. Quentin turned and crouched next to her. She was pale now, horribly pale. When he took her hand, it was too cold. Still, he took it and squeezed it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Quentin. It was the only thing he could think of saying and it was nowhere near enough. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Maria.¡±


    Her eyes were filled with tears, not quite falling down her face. Her entire body shook with minute convulsions. Maria didn¡¯t have much time left. ¡°T-t-trish¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of her,¡± Quentin promised. ¡°She¡¯ll be safe, educated, and well fed. I won¡¯t let anything happen to her.¡±


    Maria took one last shuddering breath before she went still. Still the audience cheered in the background, while Amicus was uncharacteristically silent. Quentin rose, breathing heavily. He turned back around to face Cervenka again, trying to will the bastard to die from the sheer power of his hate. Cervenka did no such thing. Instead, he opened his mouth and made sure Quentin wanted to kill him.


    ¡°Oh come on, Quintius. You going to take care of every brat these fuckers leave behind? That¡¯s just not sustainable.¡±


    Before he knew what came over him Quentin charged Cervenka, raising his fist. He got halfway there before Cervenka pulled the trigger and a bolt shot right through his armor and buried itself in his stomach. Quentin¡¯s legs carried him forward another few steps before he stumbled and fell on his side, pain consuming him.


    ¡°Easy there, big fella,¡± Cervenka said, sticking his boot on Quentin¡¯s side and pressing down. He pumped the bolter¡¯s next shot into position. He only had a couple shots left before it was empty, but he pointed it right at Quentin¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Oh, what wonders!¡± Amicus finally had to chime in, to keep the audience from wondering too much what was going on in the arena. ¡°Our executioners already hate each other and want the other dead. Just wait until you see their matches in the future. There might not be room for two monsters in the Colosseum, but come back in a week and find out!¡±


    ¡°See, Amicus would happily bail my ass out if I killed you right here,¡± said Cervenka. The image of a fierce hawk¡¯s hideous beak stared directly at Quentin, and for the first time he truly appreciated what the prisoners went through when talking to him. ¡°And I¡¯ve got you dead to rights. Give me a reason, Quintius. Just one reason to pull the trigger. No? Good boy.¡±


    Rage, pain, and humiliation. That¡¯s all that was left for Quentin. He wanted to reach up and pull Cervenka down and beat him to death, but the fucker was right. He already had a bolt planted shallowly in his guts and it hurt almost as bad as being cut open by a blade. That was on top of the other wounds he was bleeding from. Quentin surrendered himself to the loss and lay there.


    Eventually, Cervenka let up, giving him a half hearted kick as he walked away. Only a few seconds later the Colosseum¡¯s slaves came out with a stretcher. Quentin lay there, still fuming but otherwise feeling dead exhausted and completely out of the fight. He didn¡¯t move or make a peep as they worked together to roll him from his side onto his back, and then onto the stretcher. They carried him slowly out of the maze, coming to a dead end a couple of times as the slaves bickered with each. At this point, Quentin wasn¡¯t listening. He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to his exhaustion.


    Quentin didn¡¯t open them again until they were safely in the infirmary. His own body was starting to feel cold, which wasn¡¯t the best sign. The slaves deposited him on the slab and let him there. Before too long, Salim¡¯s face hovered above his. ¡°You still with us, Butcher?¡± he asked, sounding permanently bored.


    ¡°No,¡± said Quentin, sighing. He reached up with his good hand and undid his mask and pulled it and the helmet off. They fell to the floor with a loud thunk, but at least Quentin could see and breathe properly. ¡°How bad does the bolt look?¡±


    A fresh burst of pain later and Salim nodded to him. ¡°You¡¯ll live. It¡¯s not in deep, and it seems to have missed everything important. You¡¯ll want to take it easy for a few days, and then you¡¯ll be back to killing in no time, have no fear.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to,¡± Quentin muttered, more to himself than to the physician.


    ¡°Live, or kill?¡±


    ¡°Both.¡± Quentin sighed, holding still as Salim inspected the stab wound in his arm. He helped roll himself onto his side, grimacing from the pain. Salim clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the wound on his back. It was almost directly in the center, missing his spine by maybe an inch. That wound hurt almost as much as his stomach, but after a while all the pain kind of blended together. It was still nothing compared to the internal pain. He could still see the look on Maria¡¯s face when she...Quentin swallowed hard.


    ¡°Well,¡± Salim said after a thorough inspection. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. I don¡¯t think we can get your armor off with the bolt still in you, so we¡¯re going to pull it out. Carefully. You¡¯ll bleed more, for a short while, but we¡¯ll get you on some medication to help with that.. Are you ready?¡±


    Quentin grunted and braced himself. With skilled, steady hands Salim pulled the bolt from his stomach. Quentin let out another grunt through gritted teeth, but one more flare up and it was over. Salim quickly worked the clasps of the armor and pulled it off of him, where it fell to the floor in two pieces. Quentin¡¯s stomach and arm were stained with crusty, drying blood while the wound in his stomach bled freely.


    ¡°Put some pressure on that,¡± Salim instructed. Quentin did so as Salim cleaned the wound on his back and packed and bandaged it. The little bit of numbing gel was a godsend. Then he was on his back again, and Quentin closed his eyes as Salim did his job. The Ramali physician was silent until he was all but finished patching Quentin up. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize they were giving the prisoners bolters now,¡± he said.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t. This was from the new executioner. Cervenka got a promotion.¡±


    ¡°Motherfucker,¡± Salim swore, making Quentin open his eyes. ¡°Him? Truly?¡± He shook his head vehemently. ¡°That man is responsible for more fighters needing my attention than anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Good news,¡± said Quentin. ¡°You won¡¯t have to patch up his victims anymore.¡±


    Salim looked at him for a long moment. He sighed again, taking off his spectacles and cleaning them on his shirt. ¡°What a horrible night. If he¡¯s to be executioner now, what¡¯s to become of you, Quentin?¡±


    ¡°Realistically?¡± Quentin forced himself to sit up, groaning with the exertion. ¡°I¡¯m permanently benched and you don¡¯t have to deal with me anymore. I go home and drink myself to death.¡± Maybe he was being melodramatic, but he wasn¡¯t capable of much more right then.


    Salim clicked his tongue again and retrieved a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. He set it down next to Quentin for him to clean the rest of the blood off himself. Quentin took it and carefully dabbed at his skin. Blood was hard to wash and it especially stood out on his pale body, but this was a familiar enough post-fight ritual. It was almost comforting.


    While he did that, Salim went to his desk and retrieved a bottle and two small cups. He poured a small amount of an amber liquid into them and came back to Quentin, offering him one.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Quentin asked, taking the cup.


    ¡°An apology and a toast,¡± said Salim, chuckling bitterly. ¡°An apology because you were not the worst possible outcome for the prisoners after all. An apology because now I can honestly say I¡¯d rather you waste your potential if it meant keeping someone like Cervenka away. A toast, to the first time I¡¯ve been wrong in ten years.¡± Salim unceremoniously downed his booze.


    Quentin laughed in spite of himself and shot it back. It burned, with an almost sickeningly sweet after taste that lingered in his mouth, not unlike some of the medicines the physician offered. ¡°I wish I could say the same, but I feel wrong all the time.¡±


    ¡°Mm. In my experience, when you feel that way you should listen to it. It means you¡¯re doing something that isn¡¯t making you happy. It¡¯s almost like I¡¯ve been saying this for ten years now.¡± Salim refilled their cups then put the bottle away.


    ¡°Yeah yeah. Maybe you were onto something,¡± Quentin admitted. It wasn¡¯t that Salim finally got to him. It was Salim, and Demetrius, and Razia, and the whole rotten night. It was a decade of doing the same thing and never knowing whether he should be proud of himself or ashamed. It was Maria¡¯s last gasps for air, and her glassy, lifeless eyes. Quentin shot back the sweet liquor, welcoming the burn.


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    There was a knock on the infirmary door. Surprisingly, Salim turned to him and cocked his head questioningly. Quentin shook his head. The physician went to the door and opened it a crack. A short conversation later and he opened the door anyway, revealing Demetrius, Jonas, and to his surprise, Razia.


    Razia had been crying. Just the sight of the crushed look on her face and her puffy eyes made Quentin¡¯s throat tighten and breathing difficult. His eyes prickled, but he forced it to stop. The three of them stopped a few feet away. No one seemed sure who should be the first to speak, or even what to say. They stayed there like that until Quentin couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, voice coming out as a croak. ¡°Gods, I¡¯m so sorry. I failed her.¡±


    That broke the dam. Razia threw herself at him, heedless of his wounds and cried into his chest. Without thinking about it he wrapped his arms around her and positioned her away from the bandage near his belly button. He held her while tears of his own broke free and trailed down his face. Demetrius and Salim looked uncomfortable and silently agreed to move to the other side of the infirmary together, speaking in low voices.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Quentin murmured as he held Razia close. It was the only thing he could think to say, and it paled compared to the roiling mass of pain and self loathing inside him. Razia squeezed him tighter, and the pain was welcome. Deserved, even. She didn¡¯t let go until she¡¯d cried herself out, a few minutes later. All he did was hold her and occasionally sniffle and wipe away tears of his own.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said, voice little more than a hoarse croak. ¡°I know you tried. This wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°No, it was,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Amicus promised I wouldn¡¯t have to kill her. I should¡¯ve known he was setting me up. I should¡¯ve known.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia was vehement now, pulling back to look at him with a fierce expression. ¡°Then it¡¯s his fault. Promise me he¡¯ll pay for it. Promise me he¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    Gods, how Quentin wanted to give her what she wanted. He had half a mind to go up to Amicus and just stab him in the gut. Once, twice, a couple dozen times. With enough fury and hatred in it for Amicus to understand just how badly he fucked up. But the morose, cynical, practical side of him just scoffed. All that would do is get him killed as well. ¡°I¡¯ll find a way,¡± he said. ¡°Though it may take a while, he¡¯ll suffer for that.¡±


    As chance would have it, Amicus was the next person to walk through the door, along with Omar and Cervenka. Cervenka wore a smug smile on his wolfish face, and notably perked up when he saw how rough Quentin looked. ¡°Ah, there you are Quintius,¡± Amicus drawled, not bothering to hide a smile of his own. ¡°We¡¯ve got some things to discuss.¡±


    Quentin pulled away from Razia, who stared daggers at Amicus. Her fists were balled up and Quentin could see the fire in her rising. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this,¡± he said to her, knowing he had maybe one minute before she lost her temper and probably screwed them both over. He stood and went up to them haltingly, heedless of the fact that he was in his underwear. He was too angry to care about that.


    ¡°With our Emperor¡¯s gracious permission, I¡¯ve been allowed --¡±


    ¡°Before we begin,¡± said Quentin, stopping just a couple feet short. ¡°Omar, what¡¯s the fine for assault?¡±


    Omar tilted his head to the side quizzically. ¡°Is this a first offense?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s assume no.¡±


    Omar shrugged. ¡°Ten aquilos if it¡¯s a blatant assault without provocation, twenty five if it results in a real injury. Why do you ask?¡±


    Quentin wasn¡¯t subtle about the way he wound his arm up, heedless of the pain. Amicus saw it took, eyes widening in horror before Quentin¡¯s fist slammed into his face. Everyone in the room could hear the crack. Amicus swayed in place before toppling backwards onto Cervenka, who got out of the way and let the owner of the Colosseum drop to the ground.


    Cervenka looked up at Quentin with something halfway between disbelief and amusement. He notably didn¡¯t hit Quentin back, or do anything other than halfheartedly try to help Amicus back to his feet. Demetrius ran forward and put himself between Quentin and Amicus as if Quentin was going to keep on going, but Quentin was satisfied for the moment. He rolled his hand on his wrist, savoring the burn on his knuckles. ¡°You deserve that and worse you son of a bitch,¡± he said. To Omar, he said, ¡°Take the fine out of my winnings.¡±


    ¡°You bastard!¡± Amicus screamed, clutching at his nose. ¡°I¡¯ll have you killed for this!¡± He got to his feet and had tears of his own in his eyes.


    Omar coughed into his hand, and everyone turned to him. ¡°Enough,¡± he said, completely calm and evenly. ¡°Thirty aquilos will be deducted from your winnings and given to Amicus directly. The extra five because this was premeditated and in front of a godsdamned Arbiter. Really, Quentin.¡± He shook his head disapprovingly.


    ¡°We had an agreement,¡± Quentin said. ¡°He misled me and is lucky I didn¡¯t just fucking kill him now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to pretend I didn¡¯t hear that,¡± Omar said, sighing.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend, have him arrested!¡± Amicus said, all but screaming in Omar¡¯s face. Cervenka stayed in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a big grin on his face. ¡°He just broke my fucking nose and you¡¯re going to look the other way? I had full legal authority to carry out her death, and --¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I intend to do, Amicus.¡± A bit of heat entered Omar¡¯s voice. ¡°Regardless of the legality of your actions, what you¡¯ve done is immensely shitty at best and dishonest at worst. Do you honestly believe your actions to be beyond reproach?¡±


    ¡°I am beyond reproach!¡± Amicus snapped. Blood oozed from around his hand and down his mouth.


    Silence reigned in the room. Salim drank another cup of liquor, watching from a distance. Demetrius eased up and went to Quentin¡¯s side. Razia came up to Quentin¡¯s other side and wrapped herself around his arm, holding on so tight it stung. ¡°You¡¯re a disgusting piece of shit. You¡¯re pathetic,¡± she said.


    Amicus¡¯ face colored in splotchy patches. He wiped fruitlessly at the blood coming from his nose. ¡°Who the fuck even are you, and why are you in my colosseum? Quintius, take your bitch and get the fuck out of my sight. I was going to give you half the upcoming executions, but now you¡¯re just gone.¡±


    Razia jumped at him, held back only by Quentin¡¯s anticipation and reflexes. Even held in place she reached for Amicus like she was going to claw his eyes out. ¡°You motherfucker, I --¡±


    And everyone began speaking at once.


    ¡°Quentin, you gotta stop her before she --¡±


    ¡°Razia, forget it, let¡¯s --¡±


    ¡°....If you¡¯re not out of this building in ten minutes I¡¯ll --¡±


    ¡°ENOUGH,¡± Omar shouted. Everyone else fell silent. ¡°I expected better out of all of you. Maybe not you,¡± he said looking at Razia, ¡°but everyone else. Quentin, your restraint and control has always been one of the things I admire most about you. This is disappointing. Amicus, you got your wish and have a new executioner. Whether or not you deserved to be punched, the way you went about it brought it on yourself. This is what¡¯s going to happen now.


    ¡°Quentin and his guest will leave here and go home. Amicus, you¡¯ll get your nose set and cleaned up, and then you¡¯ll go to after parties.¡±


    ¡°What am I going to say about this?¡± Amicus gestured at his nose, spitting a bit as more blood dribbled into his mouth. He tilted his head back, making an uneasy sound.


    ¡°Make something up, I don¡¯t care.¡± Omar turned towards Quentin once more. ¡°It is not within his power to fire you, it¡¯s within mine. He may not give you executions but you will remain on the payroll and keep a retainer for each executed prisoner, same as Cervenka. If Cervenka is injured or unable to perform, I fully expect you to call on Quentin, or I¡¯ll know the reason why. There will be no more courtesies or kindnesses for the prisoners. Executions will go on smoothly and without any difficulties. Is this understood by all?¡±


    A chorus of half hearted and compulsory agreements sounded from everyone. Omar nodded in satisfaction. ¡°Good. Then I¡¯ll take my leave and I trust there will be no further hostilities. From anyone,¡± he added upon seeing Amicus and Quentin glare at each other. Nodding once more, he pushed past Cervenka and left.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Cervenka. ¡°Tonight sure was exciting!¡± Everyone shot him a dirty look. He and Amicus got out of the doorway, with Amicus motioning for Quentin to leave. Quentin did so with Razia and Demetrius close behind. Quentin couldn¡¯t resist making a sudden jerking moment in Amicus¡¯ direction as he passed, inwardly laughing at the way the bastard jumped. It made the pain of moving quickly worth it.


    The audience was long gone at this point. The Colosseum didn¡¯t encourage people to linger after any match, ushering people out of the building to gush about the shows in the open sea of sand outside. That meant there were only slaves and guards left to see Quentin, bloodied and beaten, in his underwear walking around the Colosseum. Everything inside of him should¡¯ve been mortified and wanting to hide, but mostly he was just tired.


    ¡°You¡¯re never this quiet,¡± Quentin finally said, turning to face Demetrius as they made their way to the locker room. Razia stayed outside there, quiet as well and looking as exhausted as Quentin did. ¡°You happy, knowing I¡¯m not going to be working here much anymore?¡±


    ¡°Happy¡¯s not the right word,¡± said Demetrius in a quiet growl. ¡°Not when it happened like this. Not when you and¡­¡± He looked at the direction of the locker room entrance with a scowl. ¡°You and your friend are upset. I brought her in for you. Thought that might help.¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± said Quentin, falling onto the bench in front of his locker. ¡°She¡¯s taking it harder than I am. They were friends for a while.¡± He stared at his clothes, hanging up. Sighing, he grabbed his tunic and wormed his way inside carefully, wincing at movements that pulled on his wounds.


    ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± Demetrius asked, helping pull the material down. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d helped Quentin get dressed after an especially rough match. And not once had he ever given his friend shit for the injuries. As much as Demetrius liked to bust Quentin¡¯s balls, there was no doubt in Quentin¡¯s mind that it was genuinely out of friendship and concern. ¡°You could probably not need to work another day in your life, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said simply. But it wasn¡¯t that simple. He had the shards that he could probably live off of for another thirty or forty years if he cut some of his more frivolous spending. More if he invested it, but that wasn¡¯t the point. Money wasn¡¯t the point. ¡°I¡¯ll probably take some time off and rest, heal up. After that? I don¡¯t know.¡± He put on his boots and threw on his cloak, clutching it tightly around him. Some habits never really died.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Demetrius, ¡°I¡¯ll be around. Take some time to heal, get some rest, eat good food and hang around with those whores if you want. But if you want to get some drinks, or stay on top of your training, I¡¯ll be there for you brother.¡±


    Quentin looked at him, smiling crookedly. And then he pulled the much shorter man into a hug he halfheartedly protested before slapping Quentin on the back. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Neither Quentin nor Razia said much on the walk home. As much as Razia could talk and talk for hours, she seemed to understand that when walking around at least, he was tense and tended to fall silent. She didn¡¯t try to disturb him, and for all he knew she needed the quiet as much as he did that night. That ended when they reached the Boulevard. ¡°We need to tell Tricia,¡± she said.


    It was like a punch to the gut. Over the past busy two hours he¡¯d nearly forgotten. ¡°Gods, this is going to hurt,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± Razia promised. ¡°You just¡­Need to be prepared for an emotional, hurt, moody teenager for a few days. It¡¯s not going to be easy.¡±


    Quentin shook his head, laughing bitterly. ¡°Nothing¡¯s easy, especially not life and death. I¡¯ll do whatever I can for her. I promised Maria I would, and I will not break that promise. No matter what.¡±


    Razia took his hand in hers and squeezed it. ¡°Maybe you should take a few days to yourself before we go out again. You can stay home and watch out for Tricia, and me and the girls will stick to safer places for a few days. And then¡­¡±


    And then. Quentin shifted uncomfortably. He¡¯d already failed one of them as bad as it was possible to fail anyone. Was he really the person to look out for anyone? All he was good for was killing, not keeping people safe. ¡°And then we¡¯ll see,¡± he finally said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± said Razia, hugging his arm as they turned into their neighborhood. ¡°You have time to figure things out, and I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

 Chapter 43: For the Boys

    Chapter 43: For the Boys


    It hadn¡¯t been easy to get tickets, but Markus managed. What else did you do when you found out your one surviving best friend was going to be put to death in front of a crowd? Seeing Philus die in the arena was the last thing Markus wanted to do after losing Gregor, but he couldn¡¯t not go. He owed it to Philus, and to Gregor, and even to himself, to see it through. To be the one person among thousands who gave a shit about the life of a prisoner.


    Philus¡¯ Auntie Eva hadn¡¯t been surprised when she found out her nephew was arrested, nor was she surprised when the Watch came by the next day to inform her that Philus had been carted off to the Colosseum, sentenced to death for¡­Everything, really. When you racked up as many little charges as Philus and his boys had, all the Watch needed was an excuse to be rid of you.


    Together, they sat up in the last row, barely able to make out the details of the fighters below. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have stolen some better tickets?¡± Eva grumbled without any real venom.


    ¡°Probably,¡± said Markus. ¡°But whoever had the tickets first would be more likely to raise a fuss and potentially get us caught.¡±


    ¡°Mmph.¡± Eva grunted.


    That was what Philus, Gregor, and all the rest of the people they knew didn¡¯t get. Philus was the dreamer, the planner, and the one to lead them through his crazy schemes. Gregor was as obstinate and tough as an ox, and he alone often carried them through fights. Markus though? Markus was the practical one. He was the one to keep a sharp eye out for the others during their plans. He was the one to try to rein in Gregor¡¯s temper and Philus¡¯ ambitions, and make sure he pocketed enough shards to make sure they were fed when plans went wrong and they walked away empty handed. Markus was the one to steal from people complaining about how bad their tickets were because they were there, ungrateful for what they had, and the opportunity was right.


    ¡°You can barely tell it¡¯s him,¡± said Eva, pointing to one figure who Markus could make out as Philus if he squinted. Mostly, it was easier to tell who he was by seeing who he wasn¡¯t. The Savant was short and moved through the maze like someone lit a fire under his ass. The whore kept to herself for the most part, and ran away from the action. The child rapist was already dead, which made things worse. The gore reminded Markus of Gregor¡¯s guts on the street.


    ¡°Hush,¡± Markus chided, earning a hand upside his head. He rubbed the spot where Eva hit him and scowled at her. ¡°I didn¡¯t have to bring you, you know.¡±


    Eva¡¯s squat, tough face warped into something softer and pained, and Markus instantly regretted saying something. ¡°They¡¯re going to kill Phil,¡± she said softly. As much as Eva gave her nephew shit, she was the only family he had left. She was more or less an aunt to them all. Or just to Markus now.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Markus sighed. They were there to show their respect, but watching his brother be executed was one of the hardest things Markus went through. Each cheer of the crowd was salt in the wound, every good blow by the Butcher made his heart skip a beat, but the real difficulty was just staying in the moment. Whenever he wasn¡¯t consciously paying attention to the fight, Markus¡¯ mind was prone to wandering off to the past.


    Markus and Philus had known each other for nearly twenty years, ever since they met as kids. There was an endless amount of time between then and now; countless scams and robberies and schemes they tried. Most of them failed, but that never kept them down for long. They¡¯d taken their lumps and paid their dues on the street. It was supposed to be their turn to be on top.


    ¡°Look look look,¡± Eva pointed, standing up. So did everyone else around them, forcing Markus on his feet as well, craning his head to see past a tangle of bodies.


    Philus was fighting the Butcher now. Jab after jab of his spear drove the monster back. Blood pounded in Markus¡¯ head, and he dared to dream of a good hit, one clean stab that would end it all. Instead, Philus overextended and the Butcher swung his mace into his chest. Philus dropped. Markus collapsed back into his seat right as the Colosseum¡¯s voices rose as one. The applause was nearly as loud as his heart breaking.


    Eva sank into her seat, hand coming up to her mouth, trembling. She blindly reached for Markus¡¯ hand. He took it, letting her squeeze it as hard as she wanted. Tears welled up in her eyes, and in Markus¡¯ as well. He didn¡¯t let them fall. He didn¡¯t give in and just break down. If he did that, everyone would¡¯ve seen and no one wanted to be pegged as the loved ones of the executed. Not if they wanted to go unbothered.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, then,¡± said Markus, swallowing a lump in his throat.


    ¡°No. Not yet.¡± Eva pointed a shaky finger down into the arena. Philus¡¯ chest was all but broken, but the man was still moving on the ground, hand outstretched and reaching for the Butcher, who was fighting with the Savant and ignoring him.


    ¡°That son of a bitch,¡± Markus hissed. ¡°Won¡¯t even grant him a clean death. This is disgusting.¡± He had to watch Philus twitch and try to get up for another ten seconds before he finally settled down, all of the fight and life gone.


    ¡°Phil,¡± Eva croaked. Her breath was hitching in her chest now as she barely repressed her sob. She took a couple of heaving breaths and forced it down, standing. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said.


    Markus didn¡¯t argue. They pushed their way through a packed house, ignoring the curses and dirty muttering as they blocked others¡¯ view on the way to the stairs. The stairs too were crowded, but it was easier to push a way past for Eva to follow him. Now that Phil was gone, it was on Markus to make sure she was taken care of. Unknown to him, she was having a similar thought about him.


    They were out the doors of the Colosseum when the screams reached a fever pitch. Markus looked up, scoffing. He was a bastard, and in some ways he was proud of it. There weren¡¯t too many people he wouldn¡¯t screw over if it meant getting a few shards, a full belly, and a warm body to cuddle up to at night. That was the same, he thought, for most of Orchrisus. But the Colosseum? This was pure cruelty. Nothing Markus could ever bring himself to do to another person was half as bad as making people watch their loved ones be killed to the sounds of applause.


    ¡°Guess that pale fucker won,¡± Eva said, sighing and hugging her chest.


    Markus put his hand on her shoulder gently. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, thinking of the moonkissed bastard who killed Gregor and apparently got off scott-free. Now it was just Markus left. It was a good day for pale fuckers everywhere. ¡°Let¡¯s get you home, Auntie. Before the crowds come out.¡±


    Silently, they walked past the line of waiting beetle carts and crossed the brief expanse of desert on their own. It wasn¡¯t far to Eva¡¯s tavern, even from here. It gave Markus time to think about the future. It was something he¡¯d avoided the past few days, but now he had no excuse. It was just him, which meant it was up to him to plot and scheme and do more than just pick a few pockets to make ends meet.


    The problem was, what could he achieve on his own? He was short, not much of a fighter, and while he could see glaring holes in Philus¡¯ plans, he wasn¡¯t much good at coming up with stuff himself. His job was making the crazy plans work out, dammit. What would Philus and Gregor do, in his situation? Well, that was a little easier. Gregor would¡¯ve gone home to Finsk and see his sister and new nibling. Now that would never happen.


    Philus though? Philus wouldn¡¯t given up. He was irritatingly stubborn that way when he thought he was right. He would demand vengeance, he would demand satisfaction and a good pay day, no matter what. That was easier said than done. Who would Markus even get vengeance on? He had as much chance of hurting the Butcher as he did making it to the Darkstar¡¯s domain without atonement. The moonkissed? He¡¯d killed Gregor even while high off his ass. There was no touching him. Not by Markus.


    They arrived at Eva¡¯s tavern, which was closed for the night. There was no shortage of places to eat and drink for the night, no matter how much the locals would grouse at having to walk a block or two out of their comfort zone. Well, fuck ¡®em. ¡°You going to be okay?¡± Markus asked.


    Eva unlocked the building and ushered him in. ¡°Francheska¡¯s gonna hate me forever for failing her boy,¡± she said, sounding more resigned than crushed. ¡°But after some atonement at least they¡¯ll be together again.¡± She looked at Markus again and swatted at his arm.


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s that for?¡± Markus pulled away from her.


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    ¡°For always getting into trouble with Philus!¡± She said, as more tears fell. ¡°You were always together, always causing trouble and getting your asses kicked for it. You were his best friend, you know. Even more than Gregor. When you two fought, he was always extra pissy and hard to be around. He loved you like a brother.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d you have to say that?¡± Markus¡¯ voice cracked as pent up tears finally fell. Eva pulled him into a hug and together they stood in the dark building, letting it out together wordlessly.


    Eventually Eva pulled away, sighing and wiping at her face. Markus¡¯ own was a teary, bleary mess that was trailing down into his short beard. She went around, lighting a couple of the oil lamps and made her way behind the bar. She grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured them both a cup. ¡°To Philus,¡± she said. ¡°And Gregor.¡±


    Markus took his cup and looked at it. Everything felt so oddly empty now. Here in the biggest city in the world, he and Eva were completely alone and felt it. He raised his cup. ¡°For the boys,¡± he said, and tossed it back. Eva poured them refills, but Markus didn¡¯t drink it immediately. He slowly nursed the whiskey as he let his thoughts drift back to where they were before.


    There was no getting back at the moonkissed and the whore for getting Philus killed. They lived in a ritzy place with security, and there was jack shit he could do on his own. If he knew exactly which of the big villas was the bastard¡¯s home it would be easier. Maybe he could arrange to have beetle shit shipped to him and¡­That was it.


    Not beetle shit, though Markus wasn¡¯t ruling that one out. He didn¡¯t know which house it was specifically, but he had a general idea. He didn¡¯t have the resources to go after them, but he knew someone who did. Sort of. ¡°I need to go, Auntie,¡± he said as he finished his drink.


    Eva looked up from her own cup. She was exhausted and just wiped. ¡°Oh. You sure you don¡¯t want to stay and have a few drinks? Maybe keep me company? I could use it.¡± She licked her lips.


    Ah. Well, Gregor would¡¯ve been happy to take her up on her offer. She wasn¡¯t exactly Markus¡¯ type, and she never would be. He shook his head sadly. ¡°Not tonight. I might be able to get the guy who got Philus sent to his death.¡±


    That perked her right up. ¡°Well, that¡¯s different. Do you need anything?¡±


    Maybe he should¡¯ve been too proud to ask, but he wasn¡¯t. ¡°Some shards for bribes so I can get close.¡±


    The way there wasn¡¯t as scary this time around. Or maybe Markus just didn¡¯t care about the danger. Upon reaching the south side of Orchrisus, he didn¡¯t run immediately into men with bolters who wanted him to leave. No, now that the Blooming was here people were already out and celebrating. South Orchrisus was an explosion of colors and sound as people partied.


    Any other time and Markus would¡¯ve pushed for the boys to go party with everyone else, but that was the last thing on his mind tonight. Markus pushed his way past two half naked women, dancing very close to each other and past a vendor selling meat pastries. It had been nearly a month since he was down here last and he didn¡¯t fully remember the way, but he remembered vaguely what direction they went.


    For the better part of an hour he just let his feet guide him, moving deeper and deeper into slummier areas where people didn¡¯t celebrate less so much as their celebration was subdued. Ramshackle houses and insulae had people playing music and dancing together, but they gave Markus a wary side-eye as he passed, going deeper and deeper into the heart of the city.


    ¡°Hey, I remember you,¡± a young preteen boy said. ¡°Where¡¯s your friends?¡±


    Markus stopped and took a look at the kid. After a second, it came to him. ¡°You¡¯re the little shit who took our shards to bring us to Christophe. Who nearly beat the piss out of us.¡±


    The kid shrugged. ¡°I gave you what you paid for. What¡¯re you doing back here?¡±


    Markus reached into his purse and pulled out some qala pieces. ¡°I want to see Christophe again. Take me there.¡±


    For a second, the kid thought about it. Made a real show of stroking his chin and sizing Markus up. He looked past him, and then said, ¡°Yeah, I could do that. But if he kills you it¡¯s not my fault. I¡¯m just a guide.¡±


    ¡°If he kills me he¡¯ll be doing me a favor.¡±


    It was only after the kid (Trevor, he reminded Markus) took the lead that Markus saw the signs of security. Shadows on the top of buildings, men who played cards together in an alley and looked up with murder in their eyes until they noticed Trevor was with him, a couple people following them for a short while before falling behind. It was scary the first time. This time, Markus just wanted to skip to the end.


    The ruined building was exactly as Markus remembered it. It looked distinctly unsafe to enter, and that¡¯s where Trevor pointed. ¡°Here you are. A pleasure doing business with you again. Unless you get yourself killed, in which case I never saw you.¡± The kid turned around and walked away whistling. The reminder of Philus stung. Markus cautiously stepped up to the door.The guard stopped him, patted him down for weapons, and then motioned with his head to enter.


    Markus slipped past him and the wall to see Christophe again, and once more was blown away by how huge the man was. He sat on two straining bar stools over a battered table. His hair and beard were shorter this time, if not kempt. He still had the glittering black eyes that seemed tiny in his large head. Said eyes flickered over to him. ¡°You,¡± he rumbled. ¡°You look familiar. What do you want?¡±


    Markus cleared his throat. ¡°I came in here about a month ago with some friends, about Razia.¡±


    Christophe made a sound of recognition and motioned for him to continue speaking while he drank from a large tankard. So far, so good.


    ¡°We found her and were going to bring her to you in exchange for a bounty,¡± Markus started.


    ¡°Were, you say.¡± Christophe setting his tankard on the table. ¡°Am I to assume that you are no longer going to do that and are, in fact, wasting my time?¡± His voice didn¡¯t raise, but Markus wasn¡¯t fooled by the image of civility. Christophe was a dangerous wild animal, and any sign of weakness or fear would be punished.


    ¡°Not wasting your time. My friends were killed trying to get her. I¡¯m the only one left.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Christophe. ¡°How sad.¡± He let out a house rumbling belch. ¡°Get to the reason why you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°I know where she lives now,¡± Markus said, fighting back the mix of anger and fear of the leader of the Warlords. ¡°I can give you the neighborhood she lives in, but not the exact house.¡±


    Christophe nodded along, interested now. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, leaning back on his stools until they groaned in protest. ¡°That¡¯s not nothing. Go on.¡±


    ¡°I want to trade the location of her neighborhood for shards. I want to help you get the bitch and kill the man protecting her. If you can promise me that, I¡¯ll do whatever I can to help you get her.¡± Markus didn¡¯t realize his voice had risen until he was finished talking and faced the silence after. The nearest guard had his hand on his sword, watching him closely.


    The Warlord took his time in answering. His gaze dropped to the table and went far away. Markus said nothing and waited with bated breath. This was all he had. If Christophe said no, then what could Markus really do against the pair who got his brothers killed? Worse yet, Markus was here alone. There was nothing stopping Christophe from just beating on him until he gave him the information. Desperation was not a good look to bastards like this.


    Christophe seemed to know it too. ¡°What¡¯s to stop you from giving me bad information and walking away laughing at me as I commit to sending men to go after her?¡±


    ¡°I swear on the memory of my brothers that the information I have is correct. I want nothing more than for you to get your vengeance.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the memory of your brothers doesn¡¯t mean dick to me.¡±


    Markus took a deep breath, fighting back the surge of rage. What would this fat bastard know of brotherhood, or having to fight to make a living? If he wasn¡¯t sure that walking out would get him jumped, Markus would¡¯ve done just that. Instead, he said, ¡°Then keep me here for all I care. I just want them to be hurt and to get a few shards to drink in my brothers¡¯ memory.¡±


    Christophe got to his feet. Markus fought the urge to back away from him. He was a good two feet shorter than the man. Christophe¡¯s fists were the size of his head. ¡°This is what I¡¯m prepared to do,¡± said Christophe, spreading his hands and giving a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Give me this address, and you¡¯ll stay with some of my men. They¡¯ll feed and water you and give you a chance to cry your little eyes out and celebrate the Blooming.


    ¡°We¡¯ll send someone to check on that information. If it¡¯s good, I¡¯ll pay you ten aquilos for it and give you a chance to work with me to get this done. If it¡¯s not good, I will personally grab you by the skull and squeeze until your brains leak out your ears.¡± He opened and closed his hand in demonstration. ¡°Sound good?¡±


    It didn¡¯t matter if it sounded good or not. It was the only shot he had. Markus¡¯ thoughts went back to the Colosseum, and the sea of people shrieking for blood. He thought of Philus laying there helplessly as the Butcher ignored him and let him die on his own. He thought of that moonkissed bastard Quentin gutting Gregor. All because of one bald prostitute who couldn¡¯t resist causing trouble. Ten aquilos was nothing compared to what bringing her in alive would¡¯ve paid, but it was close to what his cut would¡¯ve been.


    Markus¡¯ shoulders slumped. ¡°North Orchrisus, just south of the Boulevard of Saint Trassius. A high end neighborhood called Argonza Villas.¡±


    Christophe made a face. ¡°Cicero¡¯s territory. No doubt he¡¯s been helping keep her safe. That complicates things, but it isn¡¯t impossible. What did you say your name was?¡±


    ¡°Markus.¡±


    He clasped a meaty hand on Markus¡¯ shoulder and squeezed. It hurt, and the pain kept going but Markus refused to let it show. ¡°If your information checks out you¡¯ll be richer and I might have a place for you, and revenge on a silver platter. How does that sound?¡±


    Markus smiled. ¡°That suits me just fine. Anything for the boys.¡±

 Chapter 44: Life Goes On

    Volume 2: The Night Garden


    Part 5: Growing Pains


    Chapter 44: Life Goes On


    A week had passed since the executions. The full weeklong festival of the Blooming had come, partied, and was now on its way out and Razia had spent a considerable chunk of that time trying to coax Quentin from his room. ¡°You¡¯ve been in there long enough. It¡¯s time to stop punishing yourself,¡± she said through the door.


    ¡°Meeeeh,¡± she got in return. It wasn¡¯t as if Quentin never left his room. He came out to get food or occasionally get a bottle of wine to bring back with him. During those times when he was out of his room, he wouldn¡¯t slow or stop for anyone. Not for Razia, and not for Tricia, who was still living with them, mostly out of virtue of having nowhere else to go.


    That first night back, Razia let Quentin go to his room and just rest. Tricia had been waiting up for them, and one look at Razia¡¯s crestfallen face told her everything she needed to know. The teen had broken down crying, and Razia spent most of that first night holding her and crying with her until they both fell asleep on the lounger.


    After that, things fell into a comfortable, if not happy, rut. Razia would wake up and make or go out and buy breakfast for everyone. Quentin would take his in his room while avoiding conversation, and she and Tricia would eat together quietly. Then Tricia would either read or spend her time milling around the courtyard, distracting herself with the other kids running around. Satisfied Tricia was going to be mostly okay, Razia then focused on working.


    Just because Quentin was lost in a funk didn¡¯t mean the rest of them could stop bringing in shards. They had rent to pay and had to eat, and the wild, festive atmosphere of the Blooming was the perfect environment to get more of a return on their work. For that week, they didn¡¯t have to try hard to find a place to sell their time. Any place with a reasonable amount of people had men, women, and those in between looking for a passionate, energetic fuck.


    Every night Razia and Samantha would come back and tally up the shards they made and how much of it would go to them and how much would go to their debt to Quentin. They were making good headway, though Razia knew Quentin truly didn¡¯t care about the debt, especially not now. With each day that passed, Razia was increasingly convinced Quentin cared only about his guilt and feelings of powerlessness. Every day he spent alone further cemented that belief.


    The entire time, Razia dreaded the potential hiccups and fights that could arise from more people searching out their services than usual. Each client was a potential danger and the girls went out each night undefended, relying on luck and good cheer to keep them safe. So far, they¡¯d come out of it okay at the cost of Razia¡¯s growing anxiety; something she had no issues voicing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± she confessed to Samantha exactly a week after the Blooming started. It was the final night of the festival, and things were winding down. At least, in theory. The bustle of the cafe around them was proof that people weren¡¯t done celebrating. ¡°I¡¯m trying to give him space but he doesn¡¯t seem to want to feel better.¡±


    Samantha nodded, taking a sip of her tea. Her little cake was already reduced to just crumbs on a clay plate. ¡°What else have you tried? Other than giving him space, I mean.¡± The redhead was focused entirely on her. If nothing else, Samantha was an excellent listener.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, isn¡¯t it? I haven¡¯t tried too much because I don¡¯t want to push him too hard. Quentin can be really stubborn in his own way, and it¡¯s usually only about things he¡¯s overly serious and morose about. I don¡¯t know what I can do to get through to him. But I¡¯ve only known him for a month, so it¡¯s hard to say.¡± Razia rubbed at her eyes.


    ¡°I believe in you,¡± Samantha said brightly. ¡°You¡¯re smart, and it¡¯s not like anyone can hide much from you. If it was me, I¡¯d go in there, give him a big hug, tell him it¡¯s okay, and then see if a good fuck would help cheer him up.¡±


    That was one of the things Razia liked about Sam. She was good natured, straight forward, and blunt to a fault. She couldn¡¯t very well tell her that sex to cheer him up was off the table or why, so she just laughed and nodded. ¡°You might be onto something, but he hasn¡¯t been in much of a mood to fuck lately. It wouldn¡¯t be so bad if we didn¡¯t have Tricia to look after. I¡¯m trying to take care of everything and it¡¯s a lot.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s expression softened. ¡°How is she handling everything? I can¡¯t imagine what she¡¯s going through right now. It was kind of you and Quentin to take her in.¡±


    Kind wasn¡¯t the right word. Quentin volunteering his place surprised Razia, but in hindsight she supposed he really was that much of a sap. It was the vehemence he had that was surprising. Like a lot of Quentin¡¯s decisions, Razia figured it came down to guilt more than kindness. But if guilt led to kindness, then it was still kindness, she supposed. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen her grandmother. What a piece of work. If we¡¯d left Tricia with her grandmother, chances are she¡¯d already be sold into slavery by now.¡±


    Samantha shuddered. With as much debt as she had had hanging over her family, slavery would¡¯ve been an option to solve it. It was only by first an agreement with a crime lord and then Quentin himself that really pulled her away from a term of slavery as an ever looming threat. ¡°How¡¯ve you been keeping her busy?¡±


    ¡°We let her wander around for the most part, and stay inside after dark.¡± Razia shrugged. ¡°Past that, not exactly sure what we should be doing. I¡¯ve never had a kid, and never expected to have one to take care of.¡± Having a kid meant settling down, and if she was ready to settle down she wouldn¡¯t have run away to Orchrisus.


    ¡°Maybe I can take her off your hands for a day or two,¡± Samantha offered. ¡°I¡¯ve got tons of siblings. Maybe it would do her some good to have some kids her own age to hang out with. I know Darla and Denna would love someone to fuss over.¡±


    Razia nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ll want to see if she wants to first, of course, but that sounds like a good idea. If nothing else, if she''s out of the house for a couple of days I can maybe try to get Quentin out of his room and at least into the bath. He¡¯s¡­Really not taking Maria¡¯s death well.¡±


    Samantha made a sympathetic noise. ¡°I¡¯m sad about it too. Maria always looked out for us. Before I started working in the Silk Lounge, she was the one who taught me how to find a good client who wouldn¡¯t beat me, and how to spot the bad ones from a mile away. Feels weird to be without her. Feels weird to be without Mr. Q too.¡±


    And that was part of what was bothering Razia so much. If Quentin decided he didn¡¯t want to go out anymore, that was his choice, of course. But dammit, it was a bad choice and wouldn¡¯t be made with the right state of mind. If he quit now, it would be because of a depressive slump instead of any real reason, and Razia couldn¡¯t tolerate that. She had to get him out and with them again before something happened that proved just how much they needed him.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be okay,¡± Razia said, not sure if she was lying or not. ¡°We¡¯ve made it through the week without anything happening. Nothing¡¯s going to happen tonight.¡± She looked out the window. The sun was most of the way down. One last night of debauchery and playing around before the city went back to normal, embracing spring with a renewed vigor. That meant one last bountiful night to pad their purses before they had to try to keep their heads above water. ¡°Wanna come back with me and get ready before we go out?¡±


    Samantha stood up. ¡°Of course I do! Any chance of a bath before we go out?¡±


    The guards for their neighborhood smiled and waved at them as they passed. It hadn¡¯t taken long for them to warm up to Razia, and it was even faster for Sam. ¡°Hey Joe,¡± Razia called out to a heavyset bald man as she passed. He smiled at her, a flush coming to his cheeks when he saw Samantha. ¡°Pity he¡¯s working,¡± she whispered to her friend. ¡°You could probably get some shards for a quickie.¡± Samantha laughed and they entered the house through the garden.


    Tricia was there in the living room, sitting on the lounger with her face buried in a book. For not being one prone to reading, she sure had gone through a lot of Quentin¡¯s library. Of course, when not playing with the other kids and teenagers, there wasn¡¯t exactly a lot to do in the place. ¡°Hey Tricia, how¡¯re you doing today?¡± Samantha called out.


    She looked up from her book. Her eyes weren¡¯t red and puffy from crying today, at least. Though she broke down at least once a day when everything became too much, it was getting a little easier by the day. She gave a half-hearted wave before going back to The Adventures of Gwen the Seamstress. ¡°That¡¯s better than normal,¡± Razia whispered to Sam.


    Samantha sat on the lounger and started up a conversation while Razia went up to Quentin¡¯s door. She knocked on it and received no answer. Another knock, more silence. Sighing, she decided this was silly and just entered anyway.


    Razia hadn¡¯t been into Quentin¡¯s room too often. As a rule, she left it alone as his private space. A place where everything was exactly the way he wanted it and had been for all these years. Unlike most of the house, it had slivers of personality to it and felt lived in. Quentin was curled up on his bed, facing the wall.


    ¡°Quentin?¡± she tried. ¡°You doing okay today?¡±


    He let out an uninterested groan, shifting a little but not turning around.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost time for me and Samantha to go out for the night. It¡¯s fine that Tricia¡¯s staying with you, right?¡± Razia kept her voice even. Not too worried, not too chipper, and not too irritated. The latter was getting harder and harder by the day.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine,¡± Quentin said in a lifeless voice. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to her, as long as she doesn¡¯t wander out. Can¡¯t promise much more than that.¡±


    Oh yes, the irritation spiked. ¡°You have to come out of here sooner or later,¡± Razia said, closing the distance and sitting sideways on the edge of his bed. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there even after he flinched. ¡°This isn¡¯t healthy. You¡¯re not helping Maria or Tricia out by staying in here and feeling bad about it.¡±


    Quentin rolled over to face her, hugging a pillow to his chest. He hadn¡¯t really bathed or groomed in days and it showed. His face was covered in patchy white stubble that made him look like an old man. His short hair was messy and desperately in need of a wash, and his icy eyes were bloodshot and haunted. ¡°Not much I can do when I¡¯m out of here either.¡±


    Razia took a long, deep breath. It was hard seeing him like this, and even harder trying to talk to him. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault Amicus is a faithless, lying sack of shit. It¡¯s not your fault Cervenka is a murderous opportunist. You couldn¡¯t have known what was going to happen. I failed too, you know.¡±


    All she got was a miserable grunt in return. So she tried another angle. ¡°Everyone misses you, Quentin. We¡¯d be happier with you there. Why don¡¯t you get up, have a bath, shave, and come on out with us? Just tonight, and if tomorrow you¡¯re happier staying at home and moping all day, I won¡¯t bother you.¡±


    All that got her was another grunt. This wasn¡¯t working, and she had no idea how to get through to him. It was hard enough not biting his head off and telling him to get over it. Razia could hardly do that when she was coping by throwing herself into work.


    ¡°You still don¡¯t mind me getting into your prize?¡± She looked over to a bulging sack by his bed, filled with his earnings from the Blooming. They hadn¡¯t formally counted it, but it was more shards than Razia had ever had at one time by a very large margin. Each night, with Quentin¡¯s apathetic version of a blessing, she dipped into it to make sure Tricia had enough to eat and the girls could do their thing, even without him.


    ¡°The shards mean nothing to me,¡± said Quentin lifelessly.


    ¡°Right.¡± Razia sighed but dug out a couple aquilos in small denominations to take with her. ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m off. Please drink something other than alcohol tonight. You won¡¯t bring her back by drinking yourself to death.¡±


    ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± he muttered, rolling over in bed.


    Razia left him behind and rejoined the girls in the living room. ¡°Just us tonight,¡± she said. Plopping herself down next to Tricia she lowered her voice and said, ¡°I¡¯m a bit worried about him, Trish. Would you mind staying at home and making sure he doesn¡¯t do anything crazy?¡±


    Tricia¡¯s eyes narrowed. The girl wasn¡¯t stupid, and knew when she was being told to stay indoors and keep quiet. Again. ¡°Yeah, sure, fine,¡± she sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°Not like he¡¯ll stop or even notice me when he comes out of his room.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Samantha protested, putting her hand on Tricia¡¯s knee. ¡°If you were in any trouble Mr. Q would come for you in a heartbeat.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said Tricia, unconvinced. ¡°Go on, I¡¯ll make sure he doesn¡¯t choke on his own vomit.¡±


    ¡°Attagirl,¡± said Razia.


    Over the past week they were back to going to inns and taverns chosen the night before. Without Quentin, it seemed easier to stay on the move, and there were always new horizons in Orchrisus to explore. That night, they were meeting up with Lynne, the newest girl to the group, who said she had a fantastic place to work the night before.


    Other than her attitude at first, Lynne had been an unexpected bonus of going to the Twilight Dancer. The slender blonde woman was experienced, didn¡¯t seem to be picky or shy, and had a dark sense of humor that Razia appreciated and shocked Samantha, much to Lynne¡¯s delight. She was a practically perfect addition to their group, even more so now that Maria wasn¡¯t around. Maria couldn¡¯t be replaced, but a new face helped with the pain of her absence.


    ¡°This part of town is iffy,¡± said Samantha, looking around as the buildings went from well maintained to run down and dark. The tavern was a squat, wide building that, to be honest, looked like a dump. ¡°Are we sure this is the right place?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia confirmed, looking around. ¡°She mentioned this, said it looks worse than it is. We¡¯re not too far out though. If things get hairy it¡¯s not too far back to where the Watch is. Not like they¡¯ll do anything to help us, but just being around should be enough.¡±


    Samantha hummed her agreement and the two went inside. The people inside looked downtrodden, sullen, and suspicious. Half a dozen pairs of eyes turned their way when they entered, and lingered. Razia ignored it and headed straight for Lynne, who was sitting alone and looked deep in thought. ¡°Hey!¡± Razia said, sitting down. ¡°Found the place.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure this is a good place to work?¡± Samantha asked uneasily, looking around. She was used to people staring and checking her out, but the looks they were getting were a little unnerving. Even the man at the bar was eyeing them intently. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I like how this place feels.¡±


    Lynne smiled, but it was strained. ¡°Yeah. This place is better than it looks. It¡¯ll get better when the other girls arrive. If it doesn¡¯t, we¡¯ll go somewhere else. No problem, right?¡± She laughed, and Razia frowned. Something wasn¡¯t quite right with the girl.


    Razia leaned in closer and brushed Lynne¡¯s hair out of her face. ¡°What happened to you?¡± she asked, thumb stroking Lynne¡¯s cheek. That side of her face was ever so slightly swollen, and Razia saw a bit of makeup hiding what looked like a bruise on her cheek. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare try to tell me nothing,¡± she added.


    The blonde woman sighed, looking away. ¡°Last night after we parted. I went for one more client, and he got a little rough. It¡¯s not a big deal. Not sure it would¡¯ve happened if your Mr. Q was here. Is he not coming again tonight?¡± A bit of heat entered her voice now.


    Razia and Samantha exchanged a look. How did they really tell someone new that Quentin was punishing himself for failing to save Maria? Not like anyone other than Razia knew he was in a position to save her to begin with. The loss of the group mom was a blow to their morale, but Quentin¡¯s lack of participation threatened to make it all unravel right as they started.


    ¡°He¡¯s still sick,¡± Razia said neutrally. ¡°He¡¯s going to be better soon. This was unexpected and knocked him on his ass. He feels that showing up in his current state would just invite people to come after us more.¡± Samantha bit her lip and nodded along. She wasn¡¯t really one for lying, but Razia had told her several times the importance of keeping up appearances here.


    ¡°As opposed to not being here at all, leaving us wide open,¡± said Lynne deadpan. ¡°Yeah, great alternative.¡± She buried her face in her hands and let out a deep sigh.


    Razia cocked her head to the side. Something wasn¡¯t right here. Her gut told her so. ¡°Is something bugging you, Lynne? You seem as though --¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah yeah,¡± Lynne waved her off. ¡°Just¡­just having a rough day. It looks worse than it is. Ignore me. Everything will be better once we get work going and all the rest of us are here.¡±


    Samantha reached across the table and took Lynne¡¯s hand in hers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, everything will be okay!¡± She beamed at Lynne, as if intent on projecting every ounce of positivity she had to the other woman. ¡°We¡¯ll have a few drinks, make some shards, and laugh at the bad lines they use on us. ¡®Oh, Lynne? Such a lovely name!¡¯¡± Samantha screwed up her face into something smug and self assured.


    Lynne looked away, biting her lip. Samantha laughed, and Razia thought she thought Lynne was laughing too. She looked like she wanted to cry. Something was definitely wrong but there was no point in pressing the subject when she was obviously wanting to bury it. Razia knew when to take a hint and so she sat back and relaxed.


    Before long, Jenna and Lucy came in and joined them, and the four of them sat and had a light dinner and some drinks. Lynne¡¯s eyes kept darting towards the door, and eventually Isa showed up as well. ¡°Well,¡± she said, stealing a chair to join them at the table. ¡°What¡¯re you all sitting around for? Surely you weren¡¯t waiting for me to begin.¡±


    Razia smiled and shook her head. ¡°I think it¡¯s just been an intense, kinda crap week and we¡¯re dragging our feet. But now that you¡¯re here to provide a good example for the rest of us, I think we¡¯ll get started.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Lynne, standing up. ¡°Let¡¯s have a round to celebrate. On me.¡±


    A chorus of agreements sounded around the group, but Razia objected. ¡°What¡¯re we celebrating?¡±


    Lynne swallowed, then put a smile on her face. ¡°You girls letting me in and welcoming me, I guess.¡±


    All at once all of them began talking, reassuring her that she was welcome and that they liked her. It was sweet, Razia thought, how automatic it was to reassure each other when their spirits were low. It was obviously overwhelming for Lynne who gave that same bleak smile and stood up. She went to the bar, walking as slow as if to an execution.


    ¡°I kind of want to try the Twilight Dancer again,¡± said Lucy, flushing a little. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a dancer, but it was kind of a thrill being up there and having everyone fighting over me.¡±


    Jenna nodded. ¡°It¡¯s easy enough to go around and talk men up, but dancing got them drooling really quickly. I made more money that night than in the three before it. Think we¡¯ll go there again, Roz?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Razia, keeping her eyes on Lynne as the girl spoke to the bartender. She looked back at the table and nearly flinched at seeing Razia watching her. ¡°Just not without Quentin. As you saw, things can get a little rough in the wrong parts of town.¡± The bartender nodded and came out from around the bar. He went out the front door. That wasn¡¯t where the drinks were.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Razia, standing. She went up to Lynne and tapped her shoulder. She jumped half out of her skin. ¡°Okay Lynne, you need to explain what¡¯s going on. I¡¯m not stupid.¡± Razia¡¯s heart was starting to beat fast and her blood was like ice. All of her senses were awake and searching for danger.


    Lynne looked down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this. He said he¡¯d kill me if I didn¡¯t. He met up with me two nights ago and demanded I bring us here.¡±


    Oh. Oh no. ¡°Who?¡± Razia asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.


    Four men entered the tavern. First the bartender, then three rough looking men who practically screamed muscle. And then an oddly dressed man in bright red with his arm in a sling. Wincing, she recognized him, if not by name. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry Razia,¡± Lynne whispered. The first tear ran down her cheek, followed by more and more. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    The bartender went to the other patrons and ushered them out. The four men went to the table. By now, the rest of the girls recognized the trouble they were in. The muscle fanned out, surrounding the table with one coming up to Razia, motioning with his head for her to get back with the rest of them. She wordlessly obeyed, eyes darting around, looking for a distraction, an escape route, anything.


    ¡°Well, hello there ladies,¡± the pimp said, looking proud of himself. ¡°Where¡¯s the moonkissed? He and I have a quarrel we need to resolve.¡±

 Chapter 45: Keep Your Pimp Hand Strong

    Chapter 45: Keep Your Pimp Hand Strong


    None of them said anything at first. Almost as one, the girls looked to Razia, who was frozen in place. The pimp, Darriq, if she remembered correctly, wore a satisfied smile on his face. The hired muscle he brought with him shifted in place, waiting for an answer.


    ¡°Anyone? Anyone at all?¡± Darriq drawled. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again. Where is the fucking moonkissed who broke my arm?¡±


    This was all Razia¡¯s fault, and she knew it. She and Quentin went out with the intention of making a splash, and instead they made waves. It was a wonder it took this long for it to come back and bite them in the ass. She cleared her throat and spoke up. ¡°He¡¯s not here tonight. If you want, I can go get him.¡± Please accept my offer, she thought. Please please please.


    Darriq thought about it for a second before shaking his head. ¡°Naw,¡± he said. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary. I¡¯m sure one of you can deliver a message for me.¡± His smile turned nasty.


    Razia looked past him. All the other patrons were gone, and now that she saw them near each other she noticed the bartender¡¯s resemblance. They must¡¯ve been brothers, and the other one had a place he could guarantee they wouldn¡¯t be disturbed. No one was coming to save them. ¡°You had Lynne lure us here so you could get revenge,¡± said Razia.


    Beside her, Lynne shrank. Darriq came closer, throwing his good arm over her shoulder and pulling her in close. ¡°Right you are. Lynne made a mistake and now she¡¯s making it up to me like a good girl. Aren¡¯t you Lynne?¡± Lynne nodded quickly. ¡°Good girl,¡± Darrq patted her cheek roughly. It wasn¡¯t quite a slap, but the message was clear. ¡°And now here you are. Which of you is his main bitch?¡±


    There was no way out of this. If Razia somehow managed to run, jump out the window, make a distraction, whatever, he would just go after the others. This was her problem. It didn¡¯t make her heart race any less, or stop her from being afraid of what was to come. But she¡¯d been promised worse by better. She cleared her throat.


    ¡°That would be me. I¡¯m Quentin¡¯s main bitch. What message do you --¡±


    Before Razia had a chance to finish her sentence Darriq pulled away from Lynne and backhanded Razia with his good hand. She stumbled and caught herself on the table, swaying. The pain came later, hot and humiliating. ¡°That¡¯s a good start,¡± said Darriq. ¡°Not the message I wanna send, but it does make me feel better.¡±


    He let out a laugh, and the men around him chuckled darkly a half second later. Razia touched her lip, where there was a small smear of blood. Steeling herself, she stood back up and gave him an unimpressed look. ¡°Not sure I can deliver it with the same oomph, if it¡¯s all the same to you.¡±


    That got her another slap to the face. She was ready for it this time, and it didn¡¯t hurt half as bad when she steeled herself for it. She stumbled again, but Samantha caught her. Her friend gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze as she straightened up. She was afraid too. A quick glance told her everyone was terrified of what was about to come. Everyone except Isa, who masked her fear with a disgusted sneer.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine,¡± said Darriq, almost pleasantly. ¡°I¡¯m not giving you the oomph the message deserves anyhow. That fuckugly bastard got my good arm. Do you have any idea how hard it is to run a business when some disgusting freak shows up, takes your spot, and busts your fucking arm up? Lynne¡¯s not the only faithless bitch to leave me behind after that.¡±


    ¡°To be fair,¡± said Razia, ready to be hit again. ¡°We were there first.¡±


    Darriq did not disappoint. The world blanked for a second as his hand connected with her face. She tasted blood as she ran her tongue over her lip.


    ¡°Does it look like I care if you fucking cunts were there first?¡± Darriq screamed into her ear. That hurt worse than the slaps. ¡°That¡¯s my spot, whenever I want it.¡±


    ¡°Then why did the bartender rent it to us? Didn¡¯t look like he was going to give it to you when you got there. I¡¯m pretty sure the stage was --¡±


    ¡°Hit her,¡± Darriq commanded one of the men. He drew his fist back and the next thing Razia knew she was on the floor and the world was spinning. She tried to get up but her legs weren¡¯t cooperating. After several long, embarrassing seconds she managed to force herself to a sitting position. Her face throbbed violently.


    Samantha shifted in her seat but didn¡¯t get up. ¡°Please,¡± she said in a tiny voice. ¡°Please don¡¯t mouth off to him Razia.¡±


    She shouldn¡¯t have spoken up. Darriq¡¯s face lit up and he sat sideways on the table, cupping Samantha¡¯s chin with his good hand. ¡°Isn¡¯t that sweet?¡± He cooed, squeezing Samantha¡¯s cheeks. ¡°You should listen to your friend, Main Bitch. Sounds like she¡¯s smart enough to know when she¡¯s in a spot of trouble. Don¡¯t you, pet?¡± She squirmed, but Samantha nodded emphatically.


    Darriq stroked her cheek, cocking his head to the side as if really seeing her for the first time. ¡°How on earth are you not his head bitch?¡± Darriq asked, whistling. ¡°Redhead, big tits, looks like fucking you would be like fucking a fluffy cloud. What¡¯s not to love?¡± He leered, leaning in close.


    Tears filled Samantha¡¯s eyes and she shook violently in his grasp. That only fueled his sadism. Darriq leaned in close, tilting her head up to force her to meet his gaze. ¡°All those looks, maybe you¡¯ll be smart. What do you say you come with me and save yourself some trouble? You know, you were the only one Lynne asked me to not hurt.¡±


    Samantha made a wordless, helpless noise that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place in a trapped animal. Her eyes darted over to Lynne, who looked away. Razia surreptitiously put her hand on Samantha¡¯s ankle and squeezed, trying to lend whatever strength she could via touch. It must¡¯ve worked, because Samantha shook her head, making Darriq release her. ¡°N-no, I¡¯m Mr. Q¡¯s girl. Sorry.¡±


    Darriq didn¡¯t release Samantha¡¯s chin so much as throw her away from him. Samantha cringed away, hunkering down and staring at the table. She was shaking, but so far wasn¡¯t crying. That was good. The moment Samantha started crying, it would invite the others to break down, or Razia to give in to her worse instincts and get herself hurt worse.


    ¡°Fine,¡± said Darriq. He straightened up and some of the mirth left his eyes. ¡°Out of respect for Lynne who set this up, I won¡¯t punish you for refusing me. But you watch your ass, girl.¡± Samantha nodded frantically. ¡°Good. Now, about that message I want to deliver¡­¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Jenna, looking confused. ¡°I thought you already gave the message. To Razia.¡± She nodded over in Razia¡¯s direction. Razia shook her head insistently and regretted it instantly as pain bloomed from moving.


    ¡°No, that was just for my personal enjoyment,¡± said Darriq brightly. ¡°A secondary message to the main message, if you will.¡±


    ¡°And what,¡± said Isa, sighing as if this was all a terrible inconvenience to her, ¡°is the real message?¡±


    Darriq looked over at the men he¡¯d brought, who seemed content to stand there and look menacingly for the moment. He smiled at them, and they smiled back. ¡°The real message is that he¡¯s a disgusting, diseased son of a corpse and he wronged me. And so I¡¯m going to wrong him right back. If that fucker thinks that he can disrupt my business and try to take it over, he¡¯s in for a rude awakening and so are all of you.


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    ¡°He hurt me and it¡¯s affected my business. Justice demands I do the same. So my message to him will be one of you, beaten black and blue and bloody until she¡¯s not worth a qala for an assfuck. Ruin my body and I¡¯ll ruin all of his. So one of you lucky ladies is going to be a whole hell of a lot uglier. Any volunteers?¡±


    Silence. Razia and the girls looked between each other with growing horror. Samantha started crying now, silently with a couple of tears streaming down her cheeks. Isa¡¯s face was blank surprise, Jenna was shaking, and Lucy was completely and perfectly still, as if not moving meant she wouldn¡¯t be noticed. A small whimper sounded from Samantha, and Darriq was all smiles.


    ¡°Shh shhh, it¡¯s okay,¡± he said, stroking Samantha¡¯s cheek. ¡°Not you. Though maybe I should. You¡¯re the clear winner out of the lot of you. But I did promise Lynne. Think you deserve my word, Lynne?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she cried out. ¡°Yes, your word, please!¡±


    Darriq chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Oh fine. She¡¯s safe for now. Maybe it should be his main bitch. What say you, main bitch?¡± He smiled down on Razia.


    ¡°Yes,¡± She said, forcing herself to her feet. She¡¯d already taken a couple of hits. This was all her fault, it was only fair that he hurt her and left the others alone. Razia was prepared to accept that, if not happily. ¡°Take me. Let them go, I¡¯ll deliver the message myself. Nothing will piss him off more than hurting me, I promise you that.¡±


    He seemed to consider it, then shook his head. ¡°Nah. You want it too much. Afterwards you¡¯d just be able to act like a martyr and be proud of how you took a hit for everyone else. You get to watch.¡±


    ¡°But --¡± She shouldn¡¯t have said anything. Once more Darriq just slapped her. It didn¡¯t hurt as bad this time now that she was used to it coming, but it still silenced her. Even her big argument with Piro, while risky to her life, hadn¡¯t come with being slapped around. This was both better and worse than public humiliation. Hell, it was still humiliation on a smaller scale.


    Darriq pointed his finger at Isa. Then Jenna. Then Lucy. His finger waved through the air lazily as he hummed to himself. Every so often he would slow down as he considered his options, then move again as soon as it seemed final. He wore a satisfied smile as he drank it all in. He finally pointed at Lucy. ¡°You. You¡¯re young, and quite pretty. Not for long. Boys, make her ugly.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Razia cried out, only to get smacked down to the floor again. She scrambled up but Darriq grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced her down on the ground. She looked up to see pure horror on Lucy¡¯s face. The younger girl¡¯s eyes darted around wildly at the men who stirred at their master¡¯s command.


    One of them pulled her from her chair and held her up as she fought and kicked to get away from him fruitlessly. Another drew back his fist before driving it into her stomach. She let out an airless gasp as the wind was knocked from her. She had just enough time to register the pain and helplessness before the next punch came to her face. And another and another.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Razia screamed, ¡°stop this! Let her go and hit me!¡±


    ¡°Let her go and hit me,¡± Darriq mimicked in a weak, whiny voice. ¡°Fuck off. I told you that was my stage. Fuck around and find out, yeah?¡± He threw Razia back down to the ground. She looked up and watched helplessly as one man held Lucy by the arms and the other two rained blow after blow down on her.


    If Lucy wanted to cry out or scream, she didn¡¯t get the chance. As soon as one brutish thug hit her and pulled back, the other was there with the next hit. It didn¡¯t take long for her to go limp in the third one¡¯s arms. It didn¡¯t stop them from hitting her until her face was one big, ugly, swollen bruise. She wasn¡¯t knocked out though. One eye stared pleadingly at Razia throughout the entire ordeal. Razia watched in horror, wishing she could put a stop to it or even just take a fraction of the pain away.


    ¡°That¡¯s about enough of that,¡± Darriq said after a couple of minutes. The man dropped Lucy to the ground. ¡°Now, strip her.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± A cold pit settled into Razia¡¯s stomach.


    Darriq glanced at her. ¡°I said strip her. Let the cunt walk home black and blue and bloody¡­and naked. Maybe someone will look past the fucked up face and be up for it. Might even earn enough to go see a physician. See? I¡¯m not an unfair man,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°You can take my message to your pimp after.¡±


    Razia looked away as they grabbed Lucy. One of the men produced a glass dagger and cut her clothes while the other two pulled the material away from her. Her pale white skin was off color all over her body, and she looked so horribly small. Smaller even than Razia, though that wasn¡¯t the case. Finished, the hired muscle stepped away.


    ¡°You sure we can¡¯t have a bit of fun with her?¡± one of them said. ¡°Not like she¡¯s gonna put up a fight. What better message would there be than a broken whore pumped full of cum?¡±


    ¡°A message where she¡¯s bloodied and broken and not even good enough for us to fuck,¡± said Darriq, in a talking-to-children voice. ¡°The point is to ruin her. That point is itself ruined if you indulge yourselves.¡±


    Another one piped up. ¡°We¡¯re getting paid enough anyways. I¡¯m sure Mr. Qorals will give us a hefty discount on one of his girls out of gratitude.¡± He eyed Darriq pointedly.


    ¡°Absolutely. You can use Lynne over there for free tonight if you want.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lynne¡¯s eyes bugged out.


    ¡°You heard me, slut,¡± Darriq laughed. ¡°Consider it your apology to me, and everything¡¯s square. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to make you fuck them all at the same time.¡±


    Razia fumed impotently. While she only cared so much about what happened to Lynne at the moment, she still didn¡¯t deserve this. Lucy didn¡¯t deserve this. None of her girls deserved this except for maybe Razia herself. Razia couldn¡¯t argue that if she wanted to. She was under no illusions about her chance of winning if she tried to fight. Even if they all stood up and tried to fight it wouldn¡¯t take much to put them down.


    The rest of her girls were looking away from Lucy, with only Jenna being brave enough to look down at her fallen form. Naked and on the ground, she was at least still breathing, though it was uneven. She¡¯d live, at least, but her face was¡­Gods, it was rough. Darriq caught Razia¡¯s attention with a snap of his fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be about it, then. Take this ugly lump of meat and get the fuck out of here. Deliver the message to your pimp and let him know that if I ever see him again, it¡¯ll be worse next time. Well? OUT.¡±


    The girls jolted and stood up. Samantha was the first to check on Lucy, tentatively reaching out and pushing Lucy¡¯s hair out of her face. ¡°Gods,¡± she whimpered. Jenna joined her there, and together they scooped her up and got her to her feet, with her arms around either of their shoulders. She hung there limply.


    One of the men was standing in the walkway, blocking their way. He looked at them with a dark smirk and made a show of getting out of the way, gesturing graciously for them to pass. Samantha and Jenna walked out of the tavern, and the rest followed. Razia trailed behind, shock and pain dragging her along as if this was all a bad dream.


    By unspoken agreement, they formed ranks around Lucy to try to shield her from the eyes of the city. It was impossible to fully hide her, but they tried. Sharp, fierce looks kept people away as they headed towards the center of the city, vaguely in the direction of home. They were silent for the most part until Isa could take it no longer.


    ¡°So. Where the fuck is Quentin?¡± she demanded. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t he here tonight? Why did this have to happen?¡± Isa stopped the group, turning on Razia. ¡°What the fuck is the point of paying him if he¡¯s not going to protect us?¡±


    Razia flinched. This was her fault, not his. Though¡­No, Isa was right to be angry. Razia was angry too, and it felt good. It was easier and better to be angry than to just feel guilty and responsible. People thought anger couldn¡¯t get anything good done. They were wrong. Anger was just fuel, and after this they needed something to keep them going. If they were to stop, it would all fall apart.


    ¡°At home, laying in bed feeling sorry for himself,¡± Razia answered, surprised by the heat in her voice. ¡°He blames himself for not saving Maria.¡± She forced herself to stop there.


    ¡°Maria?¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°What the fuck could he do about that?¡±


    Razia shook her head.


    ¡°See?¡± Samantha said, voice small. ¡°He does care about us. If he didn¡¯t, then losing Maria wouldn¡¯t matter to him.¡±


    ¡°If he did, then why the hell isn¡¯t he here?¡± Isa all but screamed. She gestured at Lucy, who was awake but too beaten to do much more than occasionally lift her head and watch them. ¡°What about Lucy? You think his guilt is going to undo the damage to her? The damage, the pain, the fear. This is going to fuck her up for a long time. Where does he live?¡±


    Razia was taken aback. ¡°What?¡±


    Isa let out a rough, humorless laugh. ¡°You heard me. Where does that rat bastard live? I¡¯m going to shove my foot up his ass.¡±


    Razia¡¯s first instinct was to deflect or lie, but then she thought about it. She tried being gentle and giving Quentin some space to grieve and come to terms with the loss, and with what he saw as his personal failure. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe gentle was the wrong way to go about it. ¡°If I tell you where he lives,¡± said Razia, ¡°then you¡¯d better give it to him.¡±


    Isa bared her teeth in something that could charitably called a smile. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m going to tear him a new asshole.¡±

 Chapter 46: Fury

    Chapter 46: Fury


    The bottle of wine was empty, and Quentin couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. It was just one of many empty bottles in his room, discarded when he was done and piling up fast. The good thing about being rich off of being a professional murderer was all the creature comforts one could afford. The bad thing about being rich off of being a murderer was the job ended, and if he wasn¡¯t careful, Quentin would drink himself out of being rich. He found it hard to care about that too.


    It wasn¡¯t just losing Maria, though that still gnawed at him. He hadn¡¯t known her all that well, but after ten years of executing the only people he really talked to, knowing someone for a couple weeks was like knowing them for a lifetime. She was his friend, and he watched as Cervenka killed her with the blessing of Amicus and the Emperor.


    It wasn¡¯t just losing his job, though if he was being honest Quentin would¡¯ve admitted that hurt worse. The Colosseum had been the biggest part of his life for a full third of it. The people there kept him at arm¡¯s length and his boss hated him, but it was his place, dammit. He went there almost every day for a decade, only staying home if he was too injured to practice. Now what was he supposed to do with his life? Quentin dropped the empty bottle of wine to the floor and sullenly rolled over in bed.


    Maybe he was being ridiculous. It was all too obvious Razia was starting to lose her patience, but she didn¡¯t understand. She still had a life. Hell, it would take more than a couple of setbacks to dim her fire. But Quentin wasn¡¯t like that. He didn¡¯t have much he could call his own, and now he had even less than before. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to go on now that his main purpose was ripped away?


    Sounds from the main room made Quentin stir. It¡¯d only been¡­However long it was they were gone. Telling time was hard after a week-long bender of wine and food and self pity. Quentin forced himself into a sitting position, staring at the door and waiting. The sounds grew closer until they stopped. There was a knock at the door, small and hesitant.


    ¡°What?¡± Quentin grumbled, not even really feeling like doing that. It was almost a part to play while he felt like shit. His rational mind told him to knock it off and grow up, the rest of him urged to be worse about it. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The floor flew open, crashing into the wall. In the doorway stood Isa, hands balled into fists and murder in her eyes. ¡°You pathetic, worthless son of a bitch!¡± She growled.


    Quentin blinked. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn¡¯t it. ¡°Yes?¡± he responded.


    Isa closed the distance and brought her hand across his face. ¡°What happened to being there for us? What happened to those rules you had us agree to if we were going to be graced with your presence? What happened to you being different from every other asshole who lets us down? Where the fuck have you been?¡±


    Quentin reeled from the slap, though he was tipsy enough to not really feel it much. Everything was wiggly except for Isa, who was clear, sharp, and intent on making herself seen and heard. ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡± His gaze slid past her to Razia, who stood in the doorway with an inscrutable expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about you failing us, you bastard!¡± Isa¡¯s anger was red hot, fresh, and completely unexpected. ¡°You were supposed to protect us, weren¡¯t you? Lucy, come in here.¡± She turned. Razia got out of the doorway, and Quentin lost his breath.


    Lucy had to be helped in on Samantha¡¯s shoulder. It took Quentin a few seconds to even realize who it was, and when he did his heart dropped into his stomach. Her face was brutalized into a lump of bruised meat. Quentin stood on unsteady feet and walked past Isa, stopping in front of Lucy. Now he was painfully aware of how bad he looked and probably smelled, and even then it was nothing compared to how bad Lucy looked. ¡°What the hell happened?¡± He reached for her but then hesitated.


    It was Razia who answered. ¡°Darriq. Remember the Twilight Dancer?¡± She folded her arms across her chest. It bothered Quentin that he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. Then her words finally registered.


    ¡°That pimp whose¡­Arm¡­Oh.¡± He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of Lucy. ¡°Are you¡­Are you okay, Lucy?¡± he ventured.


    ¡°Of course she¡¯s not fucking okay!¡± Isa snapped at him. Lucy cringed away from them both, clinging to Samantha like her life depended on it. ¡°Some psychopath just had her beaten within an inch of her life. Just to deliver a message to you.¡±


    Quentin reacted as if she struck him. In a way, she had. Looking over Lucy again now and realizing it was for him, Quentin¡¯s stomach twisted itself into knots. If anything was going to sober him up fast, it was the roiling, conflicting emotions battling inside him. Shock, horror, guilt, and anger. The shock and guilt were nothing new. He¡¯d spend the past week with shock and guilt as his drinking partners. The anger was¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill him,¡± he said.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a start,¡± Razia said dryly.


    ¡°What about Lucy? Killing him won¡¯t undo what he did to her.¡± Isa scowled at him.


    Quentin took a step closer to Lucy. He was no stranger to getting the shit kicked out of him. His entire life he¡¯d been taking and giving out beatings until they were the next best thing to normal. Most beatings weren¡¯t this severe unless they were failed murders. Her entire face was bloody and puffed up. She looked back at him out of her one good eye, a tear trailing from it. She looked away from him.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­Sorry,¡± she managed to get out, slurring the words. It was then that Quentin saw she was missing teeth and the rage simmering in his gut bubbled up. Samantha hugged Lucy tight to her, and the girl hugged back.


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not the one who should be apologizing.¡±


    ¡°About time,¡± said Isa. At the door, Jenna and Tricia peeked in but kept their distance.


    It hurt looking at her like this. It hurt knowing it was his fault, and it was his beating she took. The past week had been miserable, and now it was getting worse. Because of him. It would be so easy to just give in to the self loathing and do whatever he could to make things worse. Make it all blow up in his face so he didn¡¯t have to deal with it and could just be alone again. He¡¯d never admit it to himself, but that¡¯s what he did when things got tough. He retreated back into familiar loneliness until he couldn¡¯t breathe and eventually had to come out of his hideyhole for fresh air.


    That wasn¡¯t an option anymore. He lost his job and a friend, but there were still friends here. There was still a job here. Gods, what a fool he¡¯d been. It was so easy to forget when locked up in his room. Here, now, with all of them looking at him with mixtures of sadness, anger, disapproval, and expectation, he couldn¡¯t escape it.


    ¡°Lucy,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s my fault this happened to you. This will not go unanswered.¡± That was the bare minimum, if nothing else. The anger rose until he was shaking with it. ¡°And we¡¯ll take care of you. You won¡¯t have to worry about shelter or food while you recover. We¡¯ll take you to the temple¡¯s flesh sculptors to help you heal. I can¡¯t undo it, but I can try to minimize things.¡±


    Gods, it wasn¡¯t enough by far. Just the same Lucy, shy, young, sweet little Lucy, gave a hesitant nod. ¡°Thank¡­you¡­¡± She got out with some difficulty. ¡°The flesh¡­They¡¯re gonna¡­fix me?¡±


    Isa came around Quentin and took Lucy¡¯s hand in hers. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯ll fix you and make it like this never happened at all. I go to see them all the time and they¡¯re good, kind people. They can work real miracles there. If you have the shards.¡± She looked at Quentin, eyes full of suspicion. ¡°Looks like Mr. Q doesn¡¯t have to worry about that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. You¡¯ll be taken care of. You all will. This won¡¯t happen again.¡± At least not until the next time he fell into a black mood and gave in to despair. Better to not think like that. ¡°Do you ladies mind? I need to get dressed.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± said Samantha. ¡°Let¡¯s get you comfy and some water. I know where the medical supplies are.¡± She led Lucy into the main room. Jenna and Tricia got out of their way, and even Isa retreated, glaring balefully at Quentin as she did so. For once, he really couldn¡¯t blame her. Finally it was just him and Razia. She closed the door, staying inside.


    ¡°Sending Isa after me was dirty,¡± he said.


    Razia shrugged. ¡°So was Lucy getting beaten for our poor decisions.¡± Quentin nodded his acknowledgement. ¡°I wasn¡¯t about to hold her back on this one. I¡¯ve been trying to get through to you for a week. It took her ten minutes. I should¡¯ve unleashed her on you sooner.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Quentin admitted. He sat down on his bed, groaning. Retaliation was important, but he felt like shit. He looked like shit too, and probably smelled like it. ¡°What all happened?¡±


    Razia sat on the bed next to him and told him. She left nothing out, every single blow against her, against Lucy, and the special attention paid to Samantha. Quentin sat there and listened, wringing his hands as it got worse and worse. When she was done they sat together in silence, broken finally by Razia saying, ¡°I tried to take the beating. He insisted on Lucy.¡±


    Quentin nodded numbly. He was far beyond anger, into a cold, calm fury that scared him. ¡°I believe you. I¡¯ll deal with this. Do you think he¡¯s still there?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Razia. ¡°I do. I think his brother owns the place. Chances are he¡¯s still there drinking and laughing about what he did. He didn¡¯t seem to be in any hurry to leave after his men were through.¡±


    Maybe Razia was just trying to rile him up worse, but if she was it worked. Quentin could picture it all in his head, and it just made him sick with hate. Anger was nothing new. His life was made of bitter anger, sad anger, futile anger, ever since he was a child. He didn¡¯t have many people he outright hated like he did Darriq. Quentin put on his boots and cloak and stood up. ¡°How bad do I look?¡±


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    Razia cocked her head to the side. As tired and upset as she looked, she let out a small chuckle. ¡°Like a deranged monster out for blood.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic.¡± And then he was out the door.


    The girls had wasted no time at all in making themselves at home. Samantha had Lucy laying down on the lounger getting tended to by Tricia, while Isa and Jenna sat on the ground nearby, passing a bottle of wine they¡¯d taken from the kitchen between them. Seeing them all there in his home filled him with a momentary surge of panic, but then it was gone. It wasn¡¯t like he was an executioner anymore. Let them wonder how he got his money.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be back shortly,¡± Razia announced. ¡°Does anyone want us to bring anything back with us?¡±


    Isa met his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you. I want that bastard¡¯s teeth,¡± she said.


    Five pairs of eyes were on him. Quentin gave a slow nod. ¡°You got it.¡±


    People got out of his way as Quentin stormed down the Boulevard. He didn¡¯t bother to put on his cloak or make himself presentable. He was all scruff and wine stains and murder in his eyes, and that¡¯s all he wanted to be. Razia, Isa, and Jenna trailed behind a short distance. It didn¡¯t take long to reach the place. Razia stopped him and pointed. Quentin nodded and entered the small, run down tavern.


    Darriq was still there, as were his hired muscle. They were crowded around a table with drinks and half eaten food, laughing about something. Lynne sat in his lap, looking uncomfortable. Quentin stood in the doorway until Darriq noticed him, expression changing from an amused smile to surprise, and then smug satisfaction. He motioned for Quentin to come forward. The man nearest Quentin looked over his shoulder and vacated his seat and stood nearby.


    Quentin took it, holding up a finger for the barman. Razia was right, the two had to be brothers. The man poured him a drink and handed it to Razia, who brought it to Quentin. Everything was done so quietly, so peacefully it struck Quentin as absurd. He took a drink, then set the mug down. ¡°So. You wanted my attention. You got it.¡±


    Darriq¡¯s eyes glittered dangerously. ¡°It seems I did. The message come through loud and clear, then? You¡¯re not going to come back to the Twilight Dancer ever again. And you should probably apologize for making me spend the effort. Isn¡¯t that right, pet?¡± Darriq stroked Lynne¡¯s long blonde hair. She cringed, not meeting either of their eyes.


    ¡°What came through was that you¡¯re a piece of a shit and a coward,¡± Quentin said, amazed that he was talking about it. It would¡¯ve been so much easier to just come in and attack him, but the moment they arrived, he realized it wasn¡¯t an option. No, they had to talk first. It was the only way to do this right. ¡°If you had something to say, you should¡¯ve said it to me. Lucy did nothing to you. You¡¯re going to pay for that.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± Darriq took a sip of his own drink, smirking. ¡°The way I see it, I¡¯ve got three men here who are more than happy to deliver the message anew, now that you¡¯re here. Isn¡¯t that right boys?¡±


    The thug nearest to him perked up. ¡°Depends. You gonna pay us more?¡±


    Darriq shrugged. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll happily pay for the privilege of seeing this fucker bleed. What¡¯s your name, Moony?¡±


    Quentin saw red. His fingers gripped the mug so hard he thought it would break. ¡°My name is Mr. Q,¡± he said. ¡°And you¡¯ve made a serious mistake. Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen.¡±


    Darriq looked around to his men, who shared his amused expression. ¡°You really going to come in here looking and smelling like this and think you¡¯re going to dictate anything? You¡¯ve got balls, I¡¯ll give you that. Murphy, I¡¯ll pay an extra five castura if you break his arm.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good sir,¡± Murphy said, leering at Quentin.


    ¡°First,¡± Quentin said as if he hadn¡¯t been interrupted. ¡°You¡¯re going to apologize. And then you¡¯re going to pay a blood price to Lucy for the damage you did to her. And then I¡¯m going to break your other arm and knock out your teeth. Afterwards, you¡¯ll never look me in the eye again or I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    Silence, then the entire table burst out laughing. Quentin looked over his shoulder. Razia gave him a satisfied nod. Isa looked as enraged as he felt and was all but baring her teeth at them. Jenna looked around nervously between the table and the bartender. Quentin turned back around. ¡°And you¡¯re going to do this now.¡± The laughter only increased.


    ¡°And if I decide to say no?¡± Darriq wiped a tear from his eye. He motioned for Lynne to get off of him and she obeyed, slinking off to the next table. She stayed close, obviously scared and doing her best to escape notice.


    Quentin swirled his drink around in the mug. ¡°Then I¡¯m still going to do all of that, but I¡¯m going to have to work for it. The rest of you can walk away. This isn¡¯t your business.¡±


    For a second, he thought they were going to laugh again. Instead, the tension thickened and nobody dared move. Not once did Quentin take his eyes off of Darriq. Not even when he struck first. He rose up, flipping the table and immediately threw his elbow into the face of the man whose seat he took. That man recoiled. Quentin grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into Darriq, sending both of them crashing to the floor.


    The other two got to their feet, sluggish from surprise. They looked down at Darriq, and then each other. By unspoken agreement they moved at the same time, flanking him. Or they would have, if one didn¡¯t get stopped by the man atop Darriq struggling to get to his feet. Quentin met his other foe head on, swinging his fist into the man¡¯s gut as his knuckles collided with Quentin¡¯s jaw. The man doubled over and Quentin reeled back.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Darriq cried, clutching his broken arm to his chest. ¡°Fuck him up!¡± The man who¡¯d fallen on him climbed to his feet, pulling Darriq away from the action. That left Thug 1 and Thug 2, who was gasping for breath.


    Behind him, Razia let out a cheer and Isa and Jenna joined in. Quentin straightened up and spat a tooth to the floor. He raised his fists, smiling. He motioned for the man nearest to him to come at him. The man was happy to oblige and charged Quentin. He barreled right into him, driving him into the wall with a crash. The impact shook him, but Quentin brought his knee up into the man¡¯s gut, and then his face. He pushed the man far enough away to get in a heavy blow to his temple.


    The man dropped to his knees, but Quentin didn¡¯t have time to celebrate. The other two men came up on either side of him and started swinging. He barely had time to raise his arms to shield his face as they rained blow after blow down on him, hammering him from both sides. Pain exploded in his arms. He tried to lean away but was pinned in. The man on his knees recovered and punched him in the stomach. Quentin faltered, and the next blow took him in the face and sent him crashing to the ground.


    He rolled and avoided the foot that would¡¯ve stomped his skull and lashed out with his foot, sweeping one of their legs out from under him. Quentin got to his feet in time for the next thug to grab him by the front of his tunic. Quentin brought his hands down on the man¡¯s arms, breaking his grip. He continued the motion, windmilling them around again to slam his hands down on his opponent¡¯s ears. The man stumbled backwards, tripping over his buddy and sending them both down again.


    Quentin raised himself up, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground. ¡°How about you?¡± he said to the one remaining man. Murphy looked at Quentin, down at his comrades on the ground. He let out a cry and rushed forward. Quentin waited until just the right moment before slamming his forehead into the man¡¯s nose. It worked, as evidenced by the horrible crunch, but it came at a cost. Murphy¡¯s mouth opened and his teeth grazed Quentin¡¯s scalp, slicing it open.


    The world spun from the impact, pain coming in fast behind it. He was going to have a bitch of a headache later. Blood oozed down his forehead, pooling down between his eyebrows onto the bridge of his nose. He turned to Darriq, knowing how awful he must¡¯ve looked. He smiled, revealing a gap in the front. ¡°As for you,¡± said Quentin.


    Darriq stared at him in horror. Behind the bar, his brother at least tried to regain control of the situation. ¡°I want you out of my bar right the fuck now. Do it, or I¡¯ll bring the Watch in on¡­¡± He trailed off when Quentin looked at him, blood dripping down his face. He turned back around to Darriq.


    ¡°Look, this was a misunderstanding,¡± said Darriq, backing up until he hit the next table. ¡°You¡¯re right, I should¡¯ve talked to you, should¡¯ve¡­Stop, hey, stop!¡± He held up his hand to try to ward Quentin off, but that was the wrong move. Quentin grabbed him by his arm and swung him around until they were in the same position they¡¯d been in just a few weeks before, with his arm wrenched around until it creaked.


    ¡°Oh gods, no no no please don¡¯t do this,¡± Darriq said, realizing what was about to happen.


    ¡°You brought this on yourself. I would¡¯ve been happy to talk with you, but you hurt one of my girls. So, this is for Lucy.¡± Quentin looked behind him. One by one, they nodded. He met Razia¡¯s eyes and saw triumph there. And that was all he needed. Quentin wrenched. Darriq screamed like a dying rabbit. He let the bastard fall to the ground, screaming and sobbing.


    Exhaustion hit Quentin then, on top of the pain and the adrenaline no longer having an outlet made his limbs want to shake. Normally, once the fight was over some small part of him regretted it all. All he felt was dark satisfaction and a predatory pleasure at Darriq¡¯s pain. All that left was one last thing.


    Quentin rolled Darriq over onto his back. He kneeled on either side of his chest and grabbed him by his face. Darriq¡¯s eyes widened as he remembered the last part of the cost for doing this. Quentin brought his fist down on his face three times, heavy and measured. Darriq whimpered with each blow, and that turned into a suppressed scream when Quentin put his hand in the man¡¯s mouth and ripped out a loose tooth.


    He got back up and recovered his own lost tooth. He held them out to Isa. ¡°One from him, one from me. That good enough?¡±


    Isa took them, not seeming to care about the blood or how disgusting it was. She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a start. Don¡¯t let this happen again.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That was really gross Mr. Q,¡± said Jenna, who looked more than a little green. ¡°I¡¯m not saying he didn¡¯t deserve it, but that was¡­¡± She shuddered.


    Razia came up to him, hugging him. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding pretty badly. And I¡¯m sorry about your tooth.¡±


    Quentin shrugged, but pulled her close. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯ll grow back, and scalp wounds always bleed like crazy.¡±


    Razia pushed away from him, making a face. ¡°What?¡±


    But Quentin had turned around, remembering at last that Lynne was there, crouched in the back and shivering. When she saw Quentin notice her, she let out a squeak and hid behind the nearest table, as if that would save her. Quentin stepped over Darriq and went over to her. It would¡¯ve been so easy to hate her for setting this up. Mostly, he felt pity.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked, holding out his bloodied hand. Lynne looked at it as if it was on fire, but she took it anyway. Quentin pulled her to her feet and inspected her.


    ¡°Y-yeah. I¡¯m¡­¡± Lynne looked past him to Razia and the girls. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I didn¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to Lucy,¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°That fucker had her beat and made her walk home naked. Because of you.¡±


    Razia held up a hand. ¡°We¡¯ll put it to Lucy. If she forgives you, we do. If not, you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    That sounded fair to Quentin. He tugged on her hand and directed her to go with the other girls. If she ever did anything like this again there¡¯d be a problem, but they could afford to at least give her a chance. He walked over to the bar, where the bartender was glowering at Quentin.


    ¡°That your brother?¡± Quentin motioned towards Darriq.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the bartender said, sighing.


    ¡°He¡¯s a real bastard. He still has his life. If he tries anything or sends people after me again, I¡¯ll take that too. If you care about him, make sure he understands that and stays the fuck away from me and mine.¡±


    The bartender spit on the ground. ¡°What¡¯s to stop me from going to the Watch and getting your ass arrested for all this?¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°Go ahead. Once people know you called the Watch for your brother instead of him dealing with me himself, he¡¯ll be nothing but a bad joke. A worse joke, I guess. I¡¯ll pay the fine and then come back for you. Let it go. He started this, I¡¯m ending it.¡±


    After a few seconds, the man grunted and looked away. That was good enough for Quentin. Grabbing a rag off the counter, he pressed it up against his forehead. He joined the girls and they walked out of that shithole and back towards home.

 Chapter 47: Full House

    Chapter 47: Full House


    ¡°And that¡¯s the last one,¡± said Razia, pulling the final stitch tight. After the brawl, Quentin¡¯s everything was battered and sore. Only the wound on his forehead needed attention. Razia, after some prodding and coaching, stitched him up. Now that she was done, her hands shook. She took a knife and cut the excess thread away. Then she grabbed her drink and took a nervous sip. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you just sat there and took it. Didn¡¯t it hurt?¡±


    They were in Quentin¡¯s room, on his bed. Quentin sat there grimacing, neither moving nor making a sound as she worked. Now that the stitches were done, he let himself relax and his shoulders droop. ¡°Yes, it hurt. A lot. But you were nervous enough without me wincing when you pushed the needle through too slowly.¡±


    Razia winced. ¡°You¡¯re scary sometimes, you know that? Just sitting there like that, like it was nothing.¡±


    Quentin shook his head, chuckling. ¡°It¡¯s not nothing. I¡¯m just used to the pain. Do you have any idea how many times I¡¯ve had to stitch myself up? Now that¡¯s hard.¡±


    She made a distressed sound. ¡°Do you also lose teeth all the time?¡± She brought her fingers to her lips and shuddered. ¡°If I lost a tooth, I¡¯d be crying. For hours and hours.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t something he thought about, and now that Razia mentioned it, Quentin felt vaguely guilty about it. Like he did something wrong without knowing exactly what. ¡°It¡¯s happened. Brawls, accidents during training, a prisoner gets lucky. They¡¯ve always grown back after a couple weeks.¡±


    Razia stared at him. ¡°Quentin? That¡¯s not normal. Teeth don¡¯t grow back. How do you not know this?¡±


    He shrugged, looking away. ¡°This is all I¡¯ve ever known, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever had a wound that didn¡¯t heal? How often do you get sick?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s with all the questions?¡± Quentin scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m covered in scars, so most of them don¡¯t heal all the way. I guess I don¡¯t really get sick often. Could we just¡­drop it?¡±


    Razia sighed but nodded. ¡°Okay. But only because tonight¡¯s been rough. For some of us more than others. If you¡¯re doing okay, I¡¯m going to check on the girls, okay? I recommend you do the same in a while. They¡¯re pretty shaken up about Lucy.¡± She grabbed the rag they¡¯d used to clear away his blood and wiped around his stitches, then leaned forward and kissed his forehead above the wound.


    Quentin watched her leave, not quite ready to get up himself. Razia couldn¡¯t know how much her questions bugged him. He¡¯d always been surprisingly healthy, given how much of his early life he spent indoors, or getting kicked around by the bigger kids. Illnesses seemed to roll off of him without touching him, and he healed quickly and cleanly. It wasn¡¯t something he let himself think about often. Thinking about it made him question it, and he didn¡¯t like the only answers that came to mind.


    No matter what people said, there was no curse, no being touched by the gods, nothing like that. He was just an ordinary man with a strange condition. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything else was unacceptable. Quentin tongued the new space in his teeth thoughtfully. Two, maybe three weeks from now there would be another one there as if nothing happened. Unless it didn''t happen this time. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t.


    Sighing, Quentin stood and stretched. Half a dozen places cracked and groaned. Fast healer or not, he still felt every cut and bruise. He twisted at the hip and enjoyed another few pops. Satisfied, he left the quiet of his room for the clamor of the rest of the house.


    All of the girls were still there, including Lynne who sat with Samantha and Tricia. The three of them looked as thick as thieves and were talking together on the lounger. Isa and Jenna stood nearby with one of Quentin¡¯s remaining bottles of wine. When Isa met his gaze she brought the bottle to her lips and took a long pull from it, nodding at him in a way that could¡¯ve been friendly. If he squinted. She handed the bottle to Jenna.


    Now that it was well into the night, his home was dimly lit by lamps and a ray of moonlight coming in from the skylight. Quentin couldn¡¯t recall having this many people in his home at one time ever, let alone all beautiful women who more or less looked up to him. Seeing them just relaxing and enjoying themselves in his gloomy home was surreal. He walked up to Isa and Jenna. ¡°You, uh, find everything okay?¡±


    Jenna nodded, smiling uneasily at him. Watching him brutalize another man probably didn¡¯t sit well with her. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯ve got a really nice¡­Well, everything,¡± she said, looking around. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to have such a nice home. It is yours, right?¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about some rightful owners barging in on us. This has been my home for seven years now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been holding out on us,¡± Isa said neutrally. ¡°What else have you been keeping from us?¡±


    ¡°Well, I made my fortune by killing people who had a contract on their life,¡± said Quentin, throwing caution to the wind and hiding in plain sight. He took the bottle from Jenna and took a drink. ¡°It paid really well, and here we are.¡±


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Isa echoed. She took the bottle back from him. ¡°I knew that story about being a bodyguard was shit. You¡¯re too vicious to be a bodyguard. Killer sounds way more likely.¡±


    ¡°Isa!¡± Jenna smacked her shoulder, side-eyeing Quentin. He could hardly blame her for it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, she¡¯s had a lot to drink and she¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s spot on.¡±


    Isa smirked at Jenna, who did her best to ignore it. ¡°What the hell are you doing with us, then?¡± Jenna asked. ¡°I¡¯m guessing killing people probably pays a lot better than being a pimp.¡±


    Way, way more. Their best night out ended with him making about a quarter as much as he did for one night¡¯s work in the Colosseum. ¡°Razia,¡± he said, shrugging. ¡°She got her talons into me and convinced me to go out with her one night. She¡¯s persuasive.¡±


    ¡°You mean she annoyed you into doing what she wanted,¡± Isa corrected.


    Quentin didn¡¯t deny it. ¡°I¡¯d tell you to help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen, but I think you already have.¡±


    Jenna flashed a guilty smile. ¡°In my defense, it was Samantha who started it.¡±


    He shook his head smiling and left them behind. Next up he paid a visit to the three of them on the lounger. Tricia was the first to look up at his approach, her face unreadable. Quentin supposed he couldn¡¯t really blame her for not knowing how to act around him. He¡¯d offered her shelter, her mother died, and then he spent a week feeling sorry for himself while she was left to more or less fend for herself. He¡¯d thoroughly failed her too.


    ¡°Hey. Everything good here? Everyone comfortable?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Q, I have a question for you!¡± said Samantha in a voice just a little too loud and enthusiastic. Whether it was not registering how bad things had been or just bouncing back quickly, Samantha seemed the only one more or less fine.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, giving a pleasant enough nod to Lynne. She looked down at his feet. If Lucy allowed her to stay, they¡¯d need to do something to make her relax. Then again, Quentin was hardly the person to throw stones when it came to moping over guilt.


    ¡°Can I take Tricia home with me?¡±


    Quentin blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got tons of brothers and sisters, right?¡± Samantha started, hands wringing the edge of her dress. ¡°Now that daddy¡¯s not deep in debt, it wouldn¡¯t be too hard to take care of one more kid. And she¡¯d have people her own age to spend time with, and would get her out of your hair.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not in my hair much,¡± said Quentin absentmindedly. Tricia had her eyes on him but was silent. ¡°Is that what you want, Tricia?¡±


    Tricia nodded. ¡°Yeah. Your house is nice and all, but the kids in the courtyard are assholes. I like Samantha, and¡­¡± she trailed off.


    And it would be nice to live somewhere without the man who promised and failed to save her mother¡¯s life. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Tomorrow if you want, we¡¯ll take your things over there. It¡¯s probably a much better place for a young woman like you anyway. But I promise I¡¯ll always be here if you need me. I mean it.¡±


    Tricia smiled at him, but it was tinged with sadness. He¡¯d be surprised if she ever took him up on it. If nothing else Quentin would make sure to pay Samantha for anything Tricia needed. It was the least he could do to honor Maria.


    Samantha let out a squeal and pulled Tricia into a big hug. ¡°It¡¯s going to be great! You¡¯re gonna love my brothers and sisters. They¡¯re all good kids and they¡¯ll make you feel perfectly at home and welcome. Or else!¡± She let out a big laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check on Lucy,¡± said Quentin. Lynne perked up at that, finally looking him in the eye. ¡°I might not talk to her about anything serious yet, but you¡¯re welcome here for tonight at least.¡±


    Lynne shrunk in on herself. ¡°Isa doesn¡¯t think so. Samantha¡¯s been great and all,¡± Samantha beamed at that, ¡°but I don¡¯t know if me staying is a good idea.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t really have the energy to comfort her much. Between the fight and a week long bender, he was a mess and was looking forward to sleeping for a full day or so. So all he did was shrug and say, ¡°Do you want to be part of the group?¡±


    She blinked. ¡°Yes. I think so. You seem like good people, and you¡¯re clearly tougher than Darriq. And less of a bastard.¡±


    ¡°Only until you get to know me.¡±


    She paused, laughing only when he let himself smile to show her it was a joke. ¡°You really don¡¯t hate me for being responsible for all this?¡±


    ¡°Of course he doesn¡¯t,¡± Samantha said, looking up to make sure she was right.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°Darriq showed he was willing to do horrible things tonight. Just don¡¯t let it happen again. It still depends on Lucy.¡± He looked over his shoulder towards Razia¡¯s room. He gave them one last nod and went that way.


    This was the part he was least looking forward to. Lynne may have gathered them all there for Darriq and his men, but it was Quentin¡¯s absence that allowed it to happen. Lucy had every reason to hate him for not being there. No amount of beating the crap out of bad men would undo the pain she went through. Quentin thought about knocking, but on the chance Lucy was asleep he just slipped inside.


    Razia sat on the side of the bed, holding Lucy¡¯s hand. Lucy was laying down, propped up by pillows into a comfortable position half sitting, half laying down. Even after being cleaned up she looked like absolute hell. Quentin could only remember getting beaten that savagely once or twice. Even when the wounds healed, the experience changed you.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Razia said. ¡°She¡¯s been asking for you.¡± She let go of Lucy¡¯s hand and stood up. With a lingering look that seemed to say ¡®be careful¡¯ she left the two of them alone.


    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Quentin took Razia¡¯s place on the bed. The dim room made her face look worse than it might have. Lucy¡¯s face was puffed up, with one eye swollen shut and cuts all over her lips where angry fists split them open against her teeth. She was wrapped up in a blanket for some semblance of modesty. Slowly, he gathered up the nerve to take her hand and give a squeeze. After a second, Lucy squeezed back.


    ¡°So, uh. Are the painkillers working? I have the good stuff.¡± Quentin bit back a wince. He had no idea what he was doing. She was going to see through him and hate him any second.


    Lucy nodded. When she spoke, she spoke slowly and with bit of a slur but it was still understandable. ¡°Yess. Still hurtss, but it feels far away. Mostly I¡¯m tired. Did you¡­?¡± Lucy made a fist and smacked it into her other palm. She let both hands flop into her lap.


    Quentin nodded. He pointed to the stitches on his head with a crooked smile. ¡°Yes. None of them are going to be happy for a while. The bastard who had this done to you? I broke his other arm. He won¡¯t be able to wipe his own ass for a couple months.¡±


    She laughed then, sudden and hard until it stopped with a painful wince. Quentin grimaced and was about to apologize when she held a finger up. ¡°Good,¡± she got out, still smiling out of one side of her mouth. ¡°What about me? Did you mean it when you said¡­about the flesh sculptorss?¡±


    This was the part all of them seemed surprised at. Everyone seemed to take the savage beating as an unfortunate and preventable part of the job, but no one seemed willing to believe Quentin would go the extra mile. ¡°This is my fault,¡± he said. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t have happened to you. I don¡¯t care what it costs, we¡¯ll make sure you heal. And in the meantime, you can stay here and rest. I¡¯ll make sure you have whatever you need. You have my word.¡±


    And why not? All of them were in his house anyway. There was no more separation of his night life and his personal life. Hell, his biggest secret was all but ripped away from him and after a week spent as a mopey fool it took the youngest of the group getting hurt to remind him he still had this. He owed all of them an apology, and the only thing better than an apology was putting in the work.


    ¡°There¡¯s just one more thing,¡± he said. ¡°Take your time if you need to, no one will blame you. Lynne is here with us tonight. She¡¯s sorry about her role in it. If you want her gone, she¡¯ll be gone, no questions asked. If you¡¯re willing to give her another chance¡­¡±


    Lucy¡¯s breathing quickened. She shifted in her bed, trying to sit up straighter and wincing for her effort. Quentin reached out and gently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into the pillows. Out of her good eye, there was anger and distress in equal measures there. He grabbed a nearby cup of water and held it up to her lips.


    Slowly, Lucy sipped from it, closing her eyes and focusing on the water. Several long, slow seconds of continuous drinking and she pulled away. ¡°Do you think I should?¡± she asked, sounding more tired than ever.


    ¡°Honestly?¡± Quentin made a face. ¡°I think there¡¯s no should or shouldn¡¯t. Only what you prefer. She¡¯s responsible for this almost as much as I am. I deserve your forgiveness even less than she does, but like me she¡¯s willing to try and make things better. It¡¯s up to you, and I won¡¯t judge you either way.¡±


    Lucy took her time in answering. Slumping against the pillows, her breathing grew more even until Quentin thought her asleep. He nearly jumped when she finally said, ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± Quentin smiled. ¡°How about this? She¡¯ll wait on you hand and foot while you¡¯re recovering. Be your personal nurse.¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± said Lucy, smiling from the corner of her mouth. ¡°I think I like that.¡± And then she really did fall asleep. Quentin waited a couple of minutes until she started snoring before getting up. He thought about touching her hand again, or even kissing her forehead the way Razia liked to do when reassuring him. He thought better of it and went back into the main room.


    Most of the girls were nowhere to be seen. There on the lounger was Isa, now sharing her bottle of wine with Tricia. Quentin looked around for them. Isa called out, ¡°they¡¯re in the bathroom. Razia told them about your bath and they had to see it for themselves. Razia said to not expect them for at least half an hour, and to come by if you want.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you with them?¡± Quentin asked.


    Isa made a disgusted face. ¡°I¡¯m not in the habit of shared public nudity,¡± she said. ¡°And someone had to watch over the brat.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Tricia protested, swiping the bottle and taking a drink. ¡°I¡¯m not a brat. And I don¡¯t need watching.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Isa sniffed, hiding a smile.


    Quentin was honestly surprised to hear about Isa¡¯s reluctance to be nude around others, given her line of work. But he more than understood, given his own issues. Coming by the bath sounded like a potential trap. Razia was probably just going to try to make him blush or be uncomfortable for a laugh. Well, he wasn¡¯t going to back down. But first¡­


    ¡°Actually, I had a few questions for you, Isa. About the flesh sculptors down at the temple.¡±


    Isa tilted her head to the side, and motioned with her hand for him to speak.


    He chose his words carefully. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you say you¡¯ve had work done there. I fully mean to get Lucy whatever help we can from them. If you don¡¯t mind talking about it, what have you had done and what did it cost?¡±


    She pursed her lips thoughtfully. For a moment, Quentin honestly expected her to change her mind and tell him to go fuck himself. She didn¡¯t. Isa took a deep breath and answered, ¡°I¡¯ve had a decent amount of work done. My breasts cost thirty aquilos. My face was another ten, to help soften it and make my voice higher. Another ten for my hips and ass. When I have my cock removed, it¡¯ll take a full fifty.


    ¡°I¡¯m saving that for last. Half the reason people pay me is to be fucked by a woman.¡± There was no mistaking the contempt in her voice. Quentin felt a renewed kinship with the dusk-girl. He knew all too well what it was like to make money off of the part of himself he hated. ¡°It¡¯s worth noting that dusk-girls and dawn-boys get a discount on their services. It¡¯s seen as honoring the god/ess of in between.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s eyes widened as he considered the prices. One hundred aquilos for Isa to fully transition. And that was at a discount. If it took her ten for her face, reconstructive work and regrowing teeth would probably cost more. He could guess ten to twenty for Lucy, maybe. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Taking care of Lucy will be no problem, then.¡±


    Isa looked surprised. ¡°You really have no issue paying that much for her?¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Hell, if you wanted, I¡¯d cover what you needed. Or at least lend you the money.¡±


    That was the wrong thing to say. Isa¡¯s face warped into a scowl. ¡°I don¡¯t need your charity or your help. If I do this, I¡¯m going to do it on my own. I won¡¯t have you or anyone else holding that over my head.¡±


    Quentin held his hands up. ¡°Okay. I respect that.¡± That seemed to do the trick, and Isa relaxed. Maybe it was in his imagination, but dealing with her was getting easier and easier. She was hotheaded, prideful, and acidic. So were half the gladiators he used to spend his time near. He turned to Tricia. ¡°How are you doing, Trish? Can I get you anything?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she said, a bit of a slur in her voice. ¡°I¡¯ll take fifty aquilos if you¡¯re offering.¡± She grinned at him. It was good to see after a week of mourning.


    He didn¡¯t respond save for a smile. Taking a deep breath he headed for the bathroom. In the ten minutes or so he¡¯d spent with Lucy, they¡¯d filled it, heated it, and all gotten in it. He had to step over several dresses and kick some sandals to the side to clear a path to the bath. The girls let out a cheer as he got close, stopping just shy of the lip of the tub.


    It was sunken into the ground, and all of the girls were under the water. That didn¡¯t stop Quentin from getting an eyeful, but none of them seemed to care. ¡°Mr. Q!¡± Samantha called out. ¡°Come in here with us! We¡¯ll make room.¡±


    Samantha pulled Lynne into her lap, making the blonde woman laugh and exposing more of her above the water. Razia smirked at him and patted the surface of the water next to her. She was daring him to refuse, pushing on his insecurity there. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was her usual teasing, or if it was something of a punishment for the evening. One last reminder he messed up.


    Well, the joke was on her. He kicked his sandals off and a chorus of cheers erupted. Samantha¡¯s eyes widened and she looked eager, while Jenna and Lynne mostly looked curious. Quentin locked eyes with Razia as he entered the hot bath, fully clothed. He sank down into the seat built in and spread his arms along the lip, smiling smugly at Razia. She inclined her head in acknowledgement.


    ¡°I¡¯m officially jealous,¡± Jenna said, dunking her head under and slicking her long brown hair back. ¡°I¡¯d kill for my own private bath.¡± If any of them thought it odd that he was still clothed, no one said anything.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± Razia exclaimed. ¡°Since moving in I use it at least every other day. Poor Quentin¡¯s gonna run out of ember chips because of me.¡± She put her hand on his arm and left it there, smiling. Quentin fought to keep his eyes level with hers.


    Nobody said anything for a second, and Quentin realized they were all watching and waiting on him. He wasn¡¯t just dumb muscle. He was nominally in charge. If he continued to say nothing, maybe they¡¯d ignore him and let him just sit nearby, but he realized he couldn¡¯t do that anymore. ¡°The way I see it, there¡¯s plenty of floor space and three surfaces to sleep on. Anyone who wishes to stay the night is welcome. I think we could all use a quiet rest after today.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± said Razia, backing him up. ¡°If nothing else, it will help having people check in on Lucy.¡±


    ¡°That reminds me,¡± said Quentin, turning to Lynne. ¡°Lucy says you get a second chance, but you¡¯re going to be in charge of taking care of her while she recovers.¡±


    Lynne made a surprised sound. Her cheeks turned pink. ¡°So she can guilt me over it the whole time?¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°Lucy isn¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°Well, okay then,¡± said Lynne, looking away. ¡°But what am I going to do at night when I¡¯m working?¡±


    Quentin was surprised to find he had an easy answer waiting. He hadn¡¯t planned the idea, or even thought of it. It popped into his head and immediately felt like the logical solution. ¡°You¡¯re not going to be working for a few days. None of you are.¡±


    ¡°Look, I would love to take a few days off and relax,¡± Jenna said, laughing nervously. ¡°But food and shelter aren¡¯t free. Not all of us live in huge houses with full pantries.¡±


    Razia understood what he meant at once. She spoke up for him and he was equal parts amused and disturbed at her willingness to freely spend his shards. ¡°You¡¯ll be paid to not work during that time. We could all use a break while we think ahead to our next move.¡±


    Samantha brightened up at once. ¡°That¡¯s a fantastic idea! Gods know I could use the time to bring Tricia home and make sure she¡¯s doing okay. I haven¡¯t been spending enough time with my siblings anyway,¡± she said fondly. ¡°Thanks Mr. Q!¡±


    Quentin shrugged off the compliment. He wasn¡¯t about to tell him that he could probably fund all of them off his Blooming winnings for months. They needed time to breathe, and he needed time to go out and search for a solution to their safety problem. He could be there every night from now on, but if his opponents had muscle and outnumbered him, they were in for trouble. The only reason he won the fight against Darriq¡¯s hired thugs was a deliberate decision to strike first and fight dirty.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have some more beds and furniture brought in. I¡¯ll send some of you out for groceries tomorrow, if you care to stay. My only rule is you don¡¯t go in either of my two rooms. Do that and you¡¯re gone.¡± His storage room had enough weapons, armor, and tattered wall coverings from the Colosseum that it wouldn¡¯t be hard to put two and two together about who he was.


    That left one more thing to talk about before he could let himself relax. ¡°Today showed that keeping you all safe and the bastards out there contained isn¡¯t easy, and we could wind up with enemies. So far we¡¯ve been going to different places, but that¡¯s not sustainable. But we don¡¯t want to stick to just one tavern either, right?¡±


    Around the bath, the girls responded with nods or shrugs. Razia nodded slowly. She looked curious now, suspicious even. Quentin fought back the smile that threatened to take over his whole face. This was the one idea he¡¯d taken time on. It was the only logical conclusion to their problem. They needed stability and control. They needed safety. They needed a chance to let the girls thrive..


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time for us to get a place of our own.¡±

 Chapter 48: Warlords

    Chapter 48: Warlords


    Christophe rubbed at his eyes, feeling the telltale signs of an impending headache. With the way his days had been for the past couple of months he had no idea whether it was the monotony of it all, the constant drinking, or having to listen to the short Northie cry about being all alone now. While it was probably the first or second option, the third was surely not helping things.


    ¡°I had to watch Phil die in the arena,¡± Markus seethed. ¡°The Butcher didn¡¯t even grant him a clean death!¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve said. Several times now,¡± Christophe growled. He motioned for one of his minders to fill his mug, and Tavos all but jumped to obey. Christophe took a long drink of wine, willing the throbbing in his head to die down.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Markus said, breathing heavily. ¡°I want him dead. More than anything else, just make sure this moonkissed bastard, this Quentin, dies.¡±


    As far as prices for intel went, it was relatively cheap. Christophe had no problems with another dead body, piled up on the hundreds before it. The fact that this moonkissed mercenary was working for Razia was bad luck on his part. That treacherous whore was poison to everything she touched, and Christophe wasn¡¯t going to lose sleep over cutting through him to get to her. After what she did, he¡¯d even throw the little bastard in front of him a bone and make it painful.


    ¡°So you¡¯d rather have that than the shards?¡± Christophe said, suppressing a smirk. One of the greatest tools he had at his disposal was his fearsome appearance. Smiling had a way of getting under peoples¡¯ skin, but so did empty stares and complete neutrality.


    Markus froze, and Christophe could practically see his brain working overtime trying to figure out a way out of that. ¡°I¡¯d¡­prefer both, if possible,¡± he said. ¡°My information¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Your information¡¯s sketchy at best,¡± Christophe scoffed. ¡°You gave me a name, an appearance, and a neighborhood. That¡¯s hardly wrapping them up neat in a bow for me. No one in this room would think twice if I grabbed you by the skull and popped it like a grape. It would save me the money and¡­well, you¡¯re not exactly useful to me anymore, are you?¡±


    Again, an entire drama of thoughts and emotions played out on the little man¡¯s face. Fear, anger, defiance, and finally resolution. He puffed himself up to an unimpressive height and said, ¡°Fine. Do it. I¡¯ll be with my brothers again.¡±


    Christophe took another long drink of wine. He let out a room shaking belch and wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. ¡°Not afraid of death, huh?¡± Markus shook his head. Christophe¡¯s hand shot out and grasped the man by the face. His massive hand was more than enough to fully cover it. He gave a squeeze, and the other man shuddered but held still. His fingers dug into the table until his knuckles were white, but he didn¡¯t move.


    Oh, phooey. It wasn¡¯t as fun when they were actually brave about it. Christophe threw the man down to the floor and finished his drink. Tavos moved forward with the wineskin again, but Christophe waved him off. He was already pleasantly buzzed, and some of the headache was dissipating. There was a fine line between drinking enough to keep the hangover from coming and drinking too much and making everything worse. Being drunk was one of the only things that made his exile bearable, and even that was starting to grow old.


    Markus sat up, looking at him with a mix of confusion and wariness. Good. Christophe smiled at him then, scratching at his beard. ¡°You got anything else up north worth going back for?¡±


    The short man thought about it. He looked down to his bare chest and fingered one of the tattoos there. They obviously meant something to him, though all Christophe saw was a liability. Tattoos were an easy way of identifying criminals too stupid to cover up and keep their heads down. They were for the bold, the careless, and the easily caught and executed. ¡°No,¡± he finally said. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Then go with Simms,¡± Christophe nodded to a dark haired, freckly faced man with a belt full of knives of different sizes. ¡°He¡¯ll get you situated and see about putting you to work. We¡¯ll even get you proper clothes instead of wandering around like a savage. You want shards? Do some good work for us and you¡¯ll be swimming in them.¡± Or he¡¯d be the first to die when things went wrong. Either suited Christophe.


    Markus stood, nodding. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. He hesitated, then continued, ¡°Why did you wait until the Blooming was over before sending for me? Not that I¡¯m complaining about spending a week drinking and feasting.¡±


    Christophe drew his lips back in a silent snarl. Markus took a step back. ¡°It sounds an awful lot like complaining to me. You want a job or not? Good. Get the fuck out of here.¡± He jerked his head to the side and Markus scattered, Simms nodding to Christophe before following. That left him with three others in the room with him. Despite the extended isolation, even they were too much.


    When one was imprisoned, even the best things in life grew dull. Drinking, gambling, sleeping, and fucking the occasional girl they brought to him were the only things Christophe had left for him. All of those had grown boring and lifeless the longer time stretched on. Two months of being stuck in the safehouse. Two months of sitting on his ass while his lieutenants and Piro ran things without him. Two months of utter boredom and stagnation.


    ¡°Max,¡± he barked. Max jolted to attention, cocking his head to the side. ¡°Has there been any word from Piro about the message I sent him?¡±


    ¡°N-no sir,¡± Max replied. He added, ¡°with the Blooming going on, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s had much of a chance to¡­¡±


    ¡°To what?¡± Christophe demanded. ¡°To answer his godsdamned partner?¡± He stood, and his men all took a step back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know sir,¡± Max replied, holding very still. He stank of fear. Not the usual kind of respect-fear that Christophe demanded in his underlings, but the kind of fear you displayed in front of dangerous animals and crazy people. He liked to think he wasn¡¯t an especially cruel man. Brutal at times, pragmatic, and he didn¡¯t suffer fools, but not cruel. Just direct. Captivity was making a beast of him.


    Christophe took a deep breath. The Blooming made things complicated. The weeklong festival turned the city upside down and had everyone in the streets. There were people to see and things to do for everyone, and crime lords were no exception. Piro was the face of their operation, and the one who kept things semi-legitimate. Christophe dealt with the men and led them into battle and sent them off on jobs, Piro dealt with those who wanted their services and those they robbed with big smiles and open palms. Chances were, he was busy and couldn¡¯t take the time to come to the safe house and touch bases with him.


    Logically, it made sense. After two months of increasingly mind numbing exile, logic didn¡¯t mean a damned thing to Christophe. ¡°Tell me how operations have been going,¡± he said. ¡°Any of you, I don¡¯t care who.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Jan hedged, an uneasy look on her face, ¡°with the Blooming we¡¯ve been -- ¡°


    ¡°Then tell me about before the Blooming!¡± Christophe barked.


    Max spoke up. ¡°Things¡¯ve been quiet, boss. With you in here, we¡¯ve just been keeping to business as usual, you know? We stomp any other jackasses who come into our area. We collect tribute on time. I think a couple of times we¡¯ve sent a few men to the outskirts to pick at some of the shipments going to the port.¡± He looked to Tavos for support, but his friend just shrugged.


    Christophe frowned. ¡°So what you¡¯re telling me,¡± he said in a low voice bordering on a growl, ¡°is that we¡¯re not accomplishing anything? We¡¯re not growing, we¡¯re not striking fear into the hearts of our enemies. We¡¯re just sitting around with our thumbs up our asses and just waiting for the shards to come trickling in?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah, that sounds about right,¡± Tavos said, grimacing. He shrugged as if to say ¡®what can you do?¡¯


    Christophe nodded, mostly to himself. ¡°Get out. All of you. Give me some breathing room.¡±


    They didn¡¯t need to be told twice. They vacated the ruined house. Alone, Christophe paced the length of the room. Five long steps and he was at the back wall. This shouldn¡¯t have gone on as long as it had. Piro promised him that he¡¯d get this taken care of. Five steps and he was at the front wall. Two months with only a few excursions out. Excursions that were a horrible risk and could¡¯ve meant his life if he was caught. Five more steps and there he was, facing the door that led to what passed for his bedroom.


    Christophe growled. Not for the first time, he wondered if it would have been better to just go to court, be found guilty and sent to the Colosseum. There he would¡¯ve lived or died honorably, fiercely, instead of hiding in a shithole shack hoping everything would clear up so he could return to his old life. Waiting to either go mad or be suffocated to death. He resumed his pacing.


    Four frantic steps to the front. It was tempting even now to just run out there. Just run out screaming, practically begging for the Watch to descend on him like a pack of ravenous dunewallas and bring him in. He could go to his death laughing. Four more steps to the back. One last glorious fight for his life. Then he¡¯d either be free or he¡¯d be dead, Four steps to the front. Either way, it would be better than this half life.


    Christophe buried his face in his hands. His fingers dug in to that long, shaggy beard and pulled. He pulled until it hurt, until he was worried he was going to rip chunks of it out. The pain felt good. The pain grounded him, reminded him that no matter how bad it was, he was still alive. Trapped in his own personal hell, but alive. He eyed the divider that blocked the room from the front door.


    All he had to do was walk forward. His men wouldn¡¯t stop him. Most of them had seen him in action and knew better than to get in his way. All he had to do was walk forward and do whatever he wanted. Christophe could even get a full night to himself, a night of freedom, before they picked him up and put him in a cell. Another cell. He grabbed the discarded wineskin and poured it directly into his mouth.


    Defiance wasn¡¯t worth dying for. Not when he now had a glimmer of hope. The information Markus gave him was definitely enough for them to do something about it. He might not have been able to save his own skin and get back to work, but at the very least he could make sure Razia Rashid died with him. That would be enough. That rotten bitch thought herself so clever, setting them up the way she had. She¡¯d see how clever she was when Christophe broke every bone in her body, one by one. They could do whatever they wanted with him after that.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He had the info, but he couldn¡¯t do anything with it. Not on his own. Piro could, but Piro was off doing gods knew what. Christophe grinned. It looked like it was time for another excursion. At the end, he¡¯d either be one step closer to his revenge, or one step closer to death. Either was better than sitting around, festering in his hidey hole.


    The cart was not the most dignified way of getting around, he reflected as his men pulled him along. Sitting in the back with a blanket draped over him was hardly inconspicuous, but most people around those parts knew well enough to leave the Warlords alone. Two of his minders pulled the cart themselves, with one standing in front, clearing the way.


    The way to Piro¡¯s place was slow on a good day, and this wasn¡¯t one of them. It was the final day of the Blooming, and people were making the most of the last day of celebration. Though he couldn¡¯t see anything from under the blanket, the sounds of cheering and laughter and music were all around him, making his head start to pound again. Half an hour later, just as Christophe¡¯s patience ran out, they arrived on Guilderlane.


    Guilderlane was the south side¡¯s greatest source of high-end artisans and luxury shops. It was a place where the Watch was out in force, protecting the wealthy merchants and even wealthier shoppers as they enjoyed one of the few truly safe places in Orchrisus to flash their shards. Just after sunset now, the street was buzzing with hundreds of people celebrating the festival via sales and the outdoor theater on the west end. It was only another few minutes before Christophe¡¯s minders wheeled him into the alley behind a line of shops.


    Christophe waited until they pulled the blanket before getting up. He looked around, nodding as he saw they were alone. Tavos helped him to his feet, and Christophe faced a blank back wall. He put his hand against the colorful clay and the gem on his ring glowed. The clay shuddered and receded, revealing a door. Christophe let himself in to the back, nodding to his men that he¡¯d take it from there.


    Piro¡¯s jewelry shop was one of the few places that wasn¡¯t open or doing any sales. Piro wasn¡¯t the kind of person to lower his prices. Not for the special stock he offered. There was no one around as Christophe climbed the stairs in the back and went through another concealed door to get to Piro¡¯s home above. It was a luxurious loft, as bright and garish as the man who lived there. The main room was a wide, open lounge with plush cushions settled into a pit on the floor, next to a wall of wine racks.


    A painting hung on the wall dividing the two halves of the floor, displaying Piro Pentius himself. He had a sharp, vulpine face with bright blue eyes and a smug, knowing smile. His dark red hair was messy in a way that Christophe knew he spent time on every day. He wore a red and gold tunic and was holding an orchrisus flower in his open palm. Christophe flipped the painting off, laughing. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and settled down onto the cushions and waited.


    It wasn¡¯t fair, he reflected as he took a pull from the bottle. They were literally partners in crime, equally in charge of the Warlords, each managing a different side of their gang. It wasn¡¯t fair that Christophe was the one who got set up by Razia. It wasn¡¯t fair that Christophe rotted in exile while Piro got to live it up in a swanky home. It wasn¡¯t being with their men in one of their hangouts, but if Christophe was going to be imprisoned, he¡¯d rather it be a place like this.


    He waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, after three hours and two bottles of Piro¡¯s best, the man himself came home. Christophe sat up, wiping his mouth clean and crossing his arms over his chest. A trio of voices preceded them, two giggles and a goofy, uninhibited laugh. Then came Piro, with a woman on each arm that was notably taller than he was.


    ¡°What else was I supposed to do? Never let an insult go unpaid, that¡¯s what I always say!¡± Piro¡¯s voice was high and bouncy, full of boundless energy.


    ¡°You¡¯re so bad!¡± One of the girls, a smokey eyed brunette said, slapping his shoulder. Then she looked up and saw Christophe and made a noise. All three of them turned to look at the massive man sitting among the cushions. He raised a hand and wiggled the fingers in greeting.


    ¡°W-who¡¯s this, Piro?¡± The blonde on Piro¡¯s right asked easily.


    Piro¡¯s eyes widened, before delight flooded his face. ¡°Why girls, this is my brother. The big, the bad, the beautiful Christophe.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t¡­Isn¡¯t he the man on the wanted posters?¡± The brunette asked.


    ¡°I sure am,¡± Christophe answered, grinning. ¡°Are you going to be a problem for me?¡± He kept his eyes locked on hers, daring her to object. She swallowed hard and shook her head.


    ¡°I must admit, I wasn¡¯t expecting to see you tonight,¡± said Piro, slipping away from the girls and standing at the lip of the pit. ¡°Couldn¡¯t resist one night of celebration, huh?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know me,¡± Christophe drawled. ¡°I¡¯ve never given two shits about festivals outside of how they affect business. And business is why I¡¯m here tonight.¡±


    Piro deflated, motioning with his head to the two attractive women standing in the doorway. ¡°Does it have to be tonight? I¡¯m in the middle of something.¡±


    ¡°As much as it grieves me to deny you your sandwich,¡± Christophe sighed theatrically, ¡°this is important. It¡¯s about Razia.¡±


    The exaggerated, playful expression on Piro¡¯s face dropped. ¡°Ah,¡± he said. He turned towards the girls. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ladies head on upstairs and start without me? I¡¯ll be up after I take care of this.¡±


    They exchanged a glance and nodded. They padded past Piro, who reached out and pinched the blonde¡¯s ass as she went, making her squeal. Piro waited until they were gone and hopped down into the pit alongside Christophe. He took the bottle and drank from it. His eyelashes fluttered closed and he moaned. ¡°As always, excellent taste in wine.¡±


    Christophe rolled his eyes. ¡°You done patting yourself on the back?¡±


    ¡°For now. What news do you have? Have one of our boys figured out which caravan she traveled with?¡±


    That made him laugh. ¡°If you¡¯d bothered to come see me at any point in the last month you would¡¯ve known she never left town at all. She gave us the slip, made it look like she got the hell out of here, and then promptly went up north to hide behind Cicero¡¯s skirt.¡±


    Piro¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°That devious bitch! How did we not see that coming?¡±


    ¡°Being fair, it was awfully stupid of her to stick around. It would¡¯ve been smarter if she did skip town. There¡¯s only so far we would¡¯ve been willing to chase her. But apparently she¡¯s not as clever as she thinks she is.¡± Christophe took the bottle back and drank. At this point he was past buzzed and was now comfortably drunk. That was the best state to be in around Piro.


    ¡°No one is as clever as she thinks she is,¡± Piro countered. ¡°Though naturally, I come close. Shall we send some scouts up and find which rock she¡¯s hiding under?¡±


    Christophe shook his head, smile only growing wider. ¡°No need. I know where she¡¯s staying. More or less. Even locked up I¡¯ve been busy keeping an eye on things and getting shit done.¡± A dark, nasty part took satisfaction in growling out, ¡°What the fuck have you been doing the past couple of months?¡±


    Piro winced and held up his hands placatingly. ¡°Trying to keep everything from falling apart. That raid from the Watch had our rivals smelling weakness. They came right up to our doorstep, looking for a fight. We haven¡¯t done much because we¡¯ve been busy defending what we¡¯ve got and lying low so we don¡¯t get finished off.¡±


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to tell me this!?¡± Christophe fumed. No one did. Business as usual, huh? Something wasn¡¯t adding up. ¡°You didn¡¯t think to tell me that we¡¯re two steps away from collapsing?¡±


    ¡°Okay, finished off might be stretching the truth a little,¡± said Piro with a laugh. ¡°But we can¡¯t afford to show weakness or lose territory right now. There¡¯ve been some skirmishes and I¡­Haven¡¯t been able to help much.¡± It cost Piro something to admit that.


    ¡°And why the hell not?¡±


    Piro sighed. He held up a hand. A bottle from the wine rack wiggled, then shot out violently. Piro ducked in time to not get brained by the projectile. It continued on past him and shattered against the wall, painting the clay a dark purple. ¡°I¡¯ve been a little¡­inconsistent since Razia took my focus.¡±


    Aha. So that¡¯s the real reason Piro wasn¡¯t pressing forward. Piro Pentius, the fearsome Shaper, was having control issues. It was something he didn¡¯t like to talk about, and Christophe always took the rose pendant Piro wore for granted. He hadn¡¯t even noticed it was gone. ¡°Ah,¡± said Christophe. ¡°I forgot she took it. I¡¯ve been a little preoccupied, what with being stuck in a tiny safehouse without anyone fucking updating me.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been busy!¡±


    ¡°You brought two girls home on the final night of the Blooming, but you couldn¡¯t come see me and check in?¡±


    Piro flushed, eyes darting to the ceiling. ¡°I have needs. I was going to come see you tomorrow, I promise.¡±


    Christophe sighed. ¡°Of course you were.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, you said you know where Razia is? More or less.¡± Piro leaned forward.


    Christophe took another drink. ¡°I have it narrowed down to a block of high end homes up on the north side. It¡¯s a square of eight of them, and she¡¯s shacking up with one of the residents there, and is being protected by a moonkissed mercenary.¡±


    Piro¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°A moonkissed? That¡¯s fantastic! There aren¡¯t that many of the devils in this city. It should be easy to narrow down who it is and either bribe him or take him out. Send a couple of spies up there and see what they turn up. This time we¡¯ll make sure there¡¯s nowhere for her to run.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re forgetting Cicero,¡± said Christophe. ¡°He hates you and if he finds out you¡¯re fiddling around in his backyard he¡¯s gonna be pissed. We¡¯ve got the manpower to handle any fights he starts, but he¡¯s a devious sumbitch. For all we know, the merc is one of his.¡±


    ¡°So we send up a spy to just watch and figure out what they can,¡± said Piro impatiently. ¡°We don¡¯t have to make a move immediately. If she hasn¡¯t skipped town yet, she¡¯s not going to. That arrogant bitch probably thinks she¡¯s safe. We keep our heads down while the heat is still on us, we find out what we need to know, and we strike like lightning,¡± Piro snapped his fingers. ¡°In and out in a flash. We can put all this to rest and get back to growing.¡±


    Yes, that¡¯s more or less what Christophe figured they would do, but it was on him to raise objections and find flaws in the plans. Piro was prone to overexcitement and not seeing any weaknesses in himself. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting one thing,¡± Christophe growled. Piro stared at him blankly. ¡°Killing her isn¡¯t going to get the Watch to just ignore me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m working on it,¡± Piro beamed. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ve got some good news on that front. We¡¯ve been expanding some of our contacts in the Watch and have more men on the take. Including a Gold Badge near our base.¡±


    Christophe let out a low whistle. ¡°That is good news. How did you manage that?¡±


    Piro grinned. ¡°By not coming to see your ugly face for two months and working on shoring up our defenses.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Christophe laughed. Piro joined him, and just like that Christophe¡¯s night turned around. It was a rough couple of months, but they had a way out now and everything was going to go back to the way it was supposed to be. With Christophe and Piro on top of the world, crushing the poor bastards around them under their heels.


    ¡°So with that in mind, I¡¯ve got some urgent needs to tend to,¡± Piro said, climbing to his feet.


    ¡°Not so fast,¡± Christophe said. ¡°It¡¯s been a bit. Give me one of them.¡±


    Piro let out an exaggerated sigh. ¡°Fine. Which one do you want?¡±


    ¡°Which one do you want, brother?¡±


    Piro thought about it. ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer the blonde.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic. I¡¯ll take her.¡± Christophe smiled at the aggrieved look on Piro¡¯s face. Yeah. Everything was going to be okay.

 Chapter 49: The Placeholder

    Chapter 49: The Placeholder


    Quentin was still half asleep when he realized something was wrong. He wasn¡¯t alone in his bed. There was another person there, curled up against his chest and breathing steadily. Without opening his eyes he knew it was Razia, and that alone stopped him from jolting awake in a panic. His eyes slowly opened and sure enough it was her, all but curled up into a ball with her face pressed up against him. One of his arms was draped around her. Just a few weeks ago, this would¡¯ve made him freak out. Laying there with her in his plush bed, it was hard to be concerned. It was hard to be anything other than appreciative, even when his memories finally caught up to him and reminded him why she was there.


    Nothing had happened, they just slept. With all of the girls staying at his place, space was at a premium. Lucy got Razia¡¯s bed, and Lynne was in there with her in case she needed anything when she woke. Samantha and Tricia were in Tricia¡¯s temporary room, while Jenna took the lounger. Isa, as could be predicted, chose to leave late at night rather than staying with everyone else. It was entirely innocent when Razia suggested sharing his bed, and Quentin had been tired enough to not think anything of it.


    It didn¡¯t change much for him. At least theoretically. He didn¡¯t strip all the way down, and out of respect for him Razia didn¡¯t either. The bed was big enough that they¡¯d started the night out on opposite ends. Somewhere along the line Razia pressed herself up against him, and in his sleep Quentin hadn¡¯t fought it. Now that he was awake, Quentin found he couldn¡¯t really complain.


    There was an odd peace in watching Razia sleep, her face just inches away from him. It wasn¡¯t as if he didn¡¯t look at her. She¡¯d be the first to tease him about how much he looked, and he was long since past trying to deny his attraction to her. But it wasn¡¯t just about her looks. Laying in bed together, Quentin realized this was the first time he¡¯d truly seen her at rest. Razia was always so active, so bouncy and energetic. There was never a time she wasn¡¯t thinking or scheming or goading others on. Until now.


    It wasn¡¯t to last for long. Her breathing shifted, and a few seconds later her eyes fluttered open. When they focused on him, a wide smile spread across her face. ¡°Hey,¡± she said, still sounding half asleep.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Quentin echoed, finding himself smiling as well.


    She stretched, and Quentin found the sight more than a little distracting. Something she realized quickly, judging from the satisfied look on her face. ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    ¡°Better than expected,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°You always this clingy when you sleep?¡±


    Her smile turned wicked. ¡°No. Usually clingier. Why, was it too much? Should I back away?¡± She nestled up closer to him, throwing her leg over his.


    Quentin didn¡¯t answer. His face heated up, as per usual, but he was becoming immune to her teasing. He couldn¡¯t take his eyes off of her, and all of the usual whispers were silent that morning. Quentin was struck with the impulse to throw caution to the wind and kiss her. Nothing big, nothing serious. Just a kiss, just to see how she¡¯d react.


    He thought about it long and hard until the moment passed and he realized he was staring at her. Her warm brown eyes were locked on his. She looked amused. Quentin shrugged, raising up in bed until he was sitting. Razia joined him a second later. ¡°Was it too much?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m trying not to push. I don¡¯t want to make you uncomfortable.¡± There was more space between them now.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Quentin asked, mouth suddenly dry. ¡°I¡¯ve never been able to figure that out.¡±


    Razia chuckled. ¡°It varies from moment to moment. You know what I really want right now?¡± she asked, voice dropping to a husky whisper.


    Quentin swallowed. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Breakfast!¡±


    Oh. ¡°Yeah, I could probably eat,¡± Quentin admitted. He searched her face for what she might¡¯ve been thinking, anything that could give him a clue. But she was awake now, and the serenity was gone, replaced with her casual mischief and playfulness. He had his chance, and he second guessed himself until it was gone. ¡°I don¡¯t know how we¡¯re doing on groceries, so it might be good to send someone out to get food.¡±


    ¡°Pretty low,¡± said Razia. ¡°We could probably convince Sam and Trish to go out. Neither of them are used to eating this well. Tricia will probably be eager to try new things. Assuming you don¡¯t just want some Mooran noodles. Again.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face heated up. ¡°Look, I know what I like and I¡¯m a creature of habit. Noodles are always good.¡±


    Razia let out a dramatic sigh. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised at how good things can be if you break out of your comfort zone once in a while,¡± she said. There was no special emphasis, no look she gave him, but her words still pierced his brain and made Quentin want to kick himself. He should¡¯ve kissed her.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Quentin said with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m not good at doing that. Maybe I need more of a push.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe,¡± Razia stood, stretching again. ¡°Maybe you need to push yourself and make an active choice to do something different. How will you know what you like and want if you don¡¯t try things on your own? I¡¯m going to go get dressed.¡± She paused, then leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving.


    ¡°Stupid,¡± Quentin cursed himself, burying his face in his hands. What did he want? It was one of the first things she asked him a month ago, and he didn¡¯t have an answer then. He wasn¡¯t sure he had an answer now. It wasn¡¯t sex. Not in and of itself. If Quentin wanted that, Samantha would¡¯ve been happy enough to indulge him and he was pretty certain she wouldn¡¯t laugh at him or mock him either. What he wanted, Quentin couldn¡¯t put into words other than¡­more.


    He stayed in his room a bit longer, fighting with his thoughts before finally getting dressed and coming out to the main room. Most of the girls were still asleep, though Jenna was awake and talking to Razia on the lounger. The door to Tricia¡¯s room was open and the room was empty, so breakfast was likely being taken care of.


    ¡°Boss-man!¡± Jenna called out, waving to him. Quentin raised a hand in return and joined them there. Jenna hadn¡¯t taken her makeup off before going to bed, and her face was a bit of a mess, though she looked perfectly happy and comfortable. ¡°You have a wonderful home. I¡¯m afraid whatever place we get isn¡¯t going to be half as good. Any chance we could just work out of here?¡±


    The very idea made his eye twitch. ¡°No,¡± Quentin said slowly. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have a ton of strangers coming in and out of my home every night.¡±


    Jenna shrugged. ¡°Had to ask. If I stay here for much longer, I¡¯m gonna be spoiled. You feeling okay after last night?¡± She motioned to his face.


    The aches and pains were there, of course, but Quentin had already almost forgotten the brawl from last night, and how much of a mess he must have looked. He frowned. ¡°Finding a place is probably not going to be easy looking like this,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure your charming personality will take care of things,¡± Razia said, grinning at him.


    Quentin snorted. ¡°It won¡¯t have to. Orchrisus is too big and changes too quickly to just go around and see if people are willing to sell a place to us. I¡¯ve got someone who will handle the worst of it for us.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, you got a guy,¡± said Jenna, nodding.


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    ¡°Sort of.¡±


    The guy was Linda Velaski, a short woman who was comfortably middle aged and with a savvy, cunning look to her. Whatever she thought of Quentin¡¯s disheveled appearance, she kept it to herself. As soon as they were in her office, she stood up and greeted them with, ¡°Oh, I remember you. Quintius, yes? I figured I would either see you again very soon, or never again. I was wrong on both counts. Come in.¡±


    Razia looked between the two with interest. ¡°Are you the person who got Quentin his house?¡±


    Linda puffed up with pride. ¡°I am. And with minimal interest, I might add. A big house like that, going to a¡­unique bachelor?¡± She shook her head, but she was smiling. ¡°I¡¯m a miracle worker. He¡¯s lucky he had enough for the down payment, or they never would¡¯ve parted with the property. Did you know that we¡¯re still having trouble selling the home next to yours?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± said Quentin. ¡°What¡¯s the trouble with it? It¡¯s identical to my home, isn¡¯t it? I would¡¯ve thought it would¡¯ve sold a while ago.¡±


    ¡°It would, if you weren¡¯t next door.¡± Linda¡¯s smile was toothy and unapologetic. Quentin always appreciated how blunt the woman was, even when it made him feel like shit. ¡°We¡¯re not supposed to give details about the neighbors, but some of my colleagues have made it clear what you are and that¡¯s scared off prospective buyers.¡±


    Razia cleared her throat. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me,¡± she said in a voice that held no apology, ¡°but how exactly does it work in Orchrisus? Why would your colleagues talk about Quentin?¡±


    Linda gestured for them to sit and took the seat behind her desk. Her office was very much lived in, with abstract art hanging on the walls and large green plants to either side of her desk. She steepled her fingers together and wet her lips, choosing her words carefully. ¡°We work on behalf of Orchrisus, managing properties. The land belongs to the Emperor and is taxed based on value and use. People like me facilitate the purchases of properties and take a cut based on those payments. When someone fully pays off their property, it makes us quite happy and prosperous. If people have reason to leave early and we have to re-sell it, we lose out on shards. Many people are choosy about who their neighbors are, and times have been getting tough. There haven¡¯t been any families or high end businesses with the money and the will to join your neighborhood.¡±


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s Quentin¡¯s fault,¡± said Razia. There was an edge to her voice Quentin appreciated.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault but it¡¯s my responsibility,¡± he said. To Linda he nodded and said, ¡°I¡¯m very appreciative you were willing to take a risk on me and get me my home. I¡¯ve no desire to move.¡±


    Linda inclined her head. ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear it. It¡¯s always nice to have a client pay off their property at a blistering pace. If you¡¯re not here for a new home, what are you here for?¡±


    Quentin motioned for Razia to do her thing. Razia sat up straight and, after a clear moment of fixing herself up to sound kinder and less on edge, launched into it. ¡°We¡¯re looking to buy a place to open a business. We need something large, with enough room to entertain dozens of people while being in a relatively good area.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Linda. ¡°What¡¯s the business?¡±


    Razia and Quentin shared a look. ¡°We¡¯re opening a whorehouse,¡± Razia answered.


    Linda¡¯s mouth froze in a surprised but understanding O. She nodded, clearly choosing her next words carefully. ¡°Alright. So you¡¯re looking for an inn or something similar with decent foot traffic and an easy to find location. That¡¯s doable, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Quentin prodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to be cheap. Look, Quintius,¡± she said, sighing. ¡°I¡¯m gonna be honest with you. This is a crap time to start a business. The kind of property you¡¯re after is going to be expensive. As in, three or four times the cost of your home expensive. And as much as I may be fond of clients who pay¡­You¡¯re gonna need a helluva lot more principle this time.¡±


    That was the easy part, as far as Quentin was concerned. He lived well, but nowhere near above his means. After paying off his house there was a full five years of saving up money, and then there was the prize from the Blooming. ¡°Alright,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Give me a price.¡±


    ¡°Three thousand aquilos for an average sized inn.¡±


    You could¡¯ve heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence.


    ¡°Good one,¡± Razia said, forcing a laugh. ¡°How much are they really?¡±


    Linda shrugged, spreading her hands wide. ¡°I told you, it¡¯s a crap time to start a business. You would¡¯ve been better off starting next season when the rains come and the river rises. A time of excess like that, I might be able to get you a place for 2500, or maybe even 2000 if you don¡¯t mind having to fix it up a bit. You want a place now, that¡¯s what it¡¯s going to cost you. And because I know I can trust you, you won¡¯t have to put more than a thousand down.¡±


    Quentin flinched. There was having good savings, and then there was being wealthy. He caught Razia¡¯s eye and saw the question there: was that doable, or no? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ¡°A thousand down, you say?¡±


    Linda nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. With a going rate of 30 aquilos paid every season for the next 20 years. Or sooner, if you make like you did with your house and pay it off early. But that¡¯s not your only worry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d also have to outfit the place,¡± Razia said, nodding along. ¡°Making sure it¡¯s safe and usable, then decorating it.¡± Though the price was still outrageous, this was the part she excelled at. ¡°That¡¯s making sure the kitchen is stocked with food and drink, each room is fit with a bed and made comfortable, general building maintenance, security¡­¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget taxes based on your business,¡± Linda continued for her. ¡°And a license to run it. It all adds up, Quintius. There¡¯s a reason most people don¡¯t open their own business and just work for others until the day they die. You want to make a profit? You¡¯re gonna have to dig your way out of a hell of a hole first. Still want to do it?¡±


    Did he? The cost made him balk, but one look at Razia¡¯s face and he knew he couldn¡¯t say no. Not without at least trying to make it work. ¡°Can we have a moment to confer?¡± Quentin asked.


    Linda stood up from behind her desk. ¡°Sure. I could use a smoke anyway. Take a few minutes.¡± She walked past them and out of her office, closing the door behind her.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this,¡± was the first thing out of Razia¡¯s mouth. ¡°I already owe you over a hundred. We could just pick a couple of inns and work out of them. With those chucklefucks no longer after me, we could set down some roots and get regular customers. Wait until summer and then try again.¡±


    The prospect was enticing. A thousand aquilos down, with another two thousand paid over the course of two decades. At no point in Quentin¡¯s life had he ever planned ahead more than a few months. This was the first time since he was a child that he even thought about having a future, let alone worried about what to do with it. The idea of committing himself so thoroughly was genuinely terrifying.


    ¡°I can afford it. Technically,¡± Quentin hedged. ¡°As open as I¡¯ve been with you, I¡¯m not going to tell you how much I have.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°But,¡± he continued, ¡°I can say that if I needed to, I could buy it and outfit it without going broke. We¡¯d be able to run for at least a few months before needing to worry.¡±


    A storm passed over Razia¡¯s face. Quentin couldn¡¯t remember a time when she looked so conflicted, so frustrated. Not even when their plan to get Maria out failed. She took a deep breath and said, ¡°Why are you willing to help me like this? This isn¡¯t what you wanted to do with your life.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Quentin, ¡°it wasn¡¯t. But it¡¯s looking pretty good to me now. Like it or not I¡¯ve got half a dozen of you girls relying on me, and I¡¯ve grown fond of you all. I literally don¡¯t have anything better to do with my time other than lying around, moping and drinking. And we both saw how pathetic I can be when I do that.¡±


    Razia smiled, but the smile disappeared quickly as if she was ashamed of finding it funny. She nibbled on her lower lip as she was thinking. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I do nearly enough for you to justify how much you do for us. Not for lack of trying. You frustrating bastard.¡±


    That familiar low heat spread over his cheeks. ¡°You¡¯ve kept things interesting and have shown me some fun. Just¡­Don¡¯t stop pushing me.¡± Please, he silently implored her.


    Her smile reappeared, wider now. She reached out for his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. ¡°I can probably do that. Problem is, Mr. Q, I never know if I¡¯m pushing too hard.¡±


    Neither did he. ¡°Figure it out,¡± he said, the corners of his lips twitching.


    The door opened and they separated, sitting up in their seats. Linda gave them an inscrutable look and sat back down behind her desk. ¡°Well?¡± she asked, ¡°what¡¯s it going to be, Quintius?¡±


    It would be easy to say no, not yet. To take Razia¡¯s easy out and wait until summer, when he could probably get a place for cheaper. But then he thought of Darriq, and how easy it was to be caught in a bad spot and get the girls hurt. He thought about the headache that came with having to skip the first couple of places due to overcrowding or not enough patrons. They needed a place of their own.


    ¡°I think,¡± said Quentin, ¡°I¡¯d like to see some of the properties first.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Linda nodded with approval. ¡°And lucky for you I like you and no one else needs my time. Shall we?¡±

 Chapter 50: Home

    Chapter 50: Home


    ¡°So right here we have the easiest of your options,¡± said Linda, opening the door to a dilapidated tavern halfway between the Boulevard and North River Row. The door groaned as it swung open. Light trickled in from the midday sun, illuminating dancing motes of dust. It was a large building, nestled in between a tailor¡¯s shop and a small grocer, and had seen better days. Linda stepped inside, sweeping her arm out at the room.


    Quentin and Razia followed behind her. Quentin took off his shaded spectacles to better see, once again grateful for the gift. He looked around the building and honestly¡­Wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he was supposed to be seeing. Potential, maybe? It looked like a generic watering hole. A quarter of the ground floor was the bar and the doors leading to the kitchens. Tables in various states of disrepair filled out most of the rest of the room, with the odd chair here and there. Some of them even had all their legs.


    ¡°Not very promising,¡± Razia said, wrinkling her nose and waving dust out of her face.


    ¡°You get what you pay for,¡± Linda replied, clicking her tongue. ¡°This one¡¯s only 2800 and it¡¯s in the best location out of the three I can show you today.¡±


    Quentin went up to one of the tables and ran his finger along the dusty wood. The table collapsed to the ground, legs falling off and over. He somehow managed not to jump out of his skin. He turned an unimpressed frown towards Linda.


    ¡°Look,¡± she sighed. ¡°You get this place and you¡¯re gonna make up the cost in renovations. But that¡¯s not a bad thing. You¡¯re gonna want a mason and a carpenter to give the place a once over anyway.¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s roomy and the location is fine, but it¡¯s not especially suited to our needs. Too much of the space is used for storage or cooking. Where are we going to have rooms for people to go back to? Some people might like to perform, but others prefer their privacy.¡±


    Linda had an answer for that. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna get work done, might as well fully remodel. You could convert this whole space into rooms if you¡¯re willing to put the work in, and maybe transform some of the storage rooms into bedrooms. How many people you got working for you?¡± To her credit, whatever her feelings were about their business, she was professional about it.


    ¡°Six of us,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°Well,¡± Linda shrugged. ¡°You could easily fit four small rooms down here, and use the upstairs storage for another couple. Maybe bigger suites upstairs, I don¡¯t know how you plan on running it. The important thing is this will get you plenty of customers, the area is generally as safe as Orchrisus gets, and I could have the deed in your hands by the end of the day.¡±


    Quentin stepped away from the broken table. Thinking about it, he could see what Linda meant about the place. The tavern was a blank slate, easily adapted to their needs. He and Razia had discussed a lot of what they would need to entertain lonely Orchrisans night after night, and a decent kitchen was a good start. Behind the bar would be the perfect place for guests to check their weapons before finding a seat where the girls would be waiting. Turning to Razia, he quirked a brow.


    Razia slowly spun in place, looking up and considering it. She headed for the stairs and made her way up. Three steps later and the step collapsed on her, sending Razia sprawling backwards. Quentin ran after her in a flash, unable to get there in time to catch her. She landed hard on her ass, yelping. Quentin carefully pulled her foot out of the hole, wincing as he saw blood.


    ¡°So that one didn¡¯t pan out,¡± Linda said as they walked north after pulling the splinters out of Razia¡¯s ankle. ¡°But that was just the first place on the list. If we can¡¯t find you a place that satisfies, I¡¯ll resign.¡±


    That probably wouldn¡¯t be necessary. Other than surprise and a little bit of pain, Razia was none the worse for wear. Her steps were a little lopsided now as she favored her other foot, but mostly she just looked embarrassed. After a few seconds she caught Quentin staring and flashed him a crooked smile. She took his hand in hers and they followed Linda to the next property.


    Immediately, Quentin understood Linda¡¯s point about location. The tavern had been between two major thoroughfares, easily accessible from all directions and in a good neighborhood. The same couldn¡¯t be said of the inn they were looking at. It wasn¡¯t that the area around it was bad, per se. It was just tucked away right next to a neighborhood of dozens of short, cramped houses.


    ¡°As you can see, this is in a heavy residential area,¡± Linda said, pointing to the long winding road with house after house on it. ¡°The inn was here first, and when they started building more houses it stopped being necessary. It closed down and has passed hands about half a dozen times over the past fifteen years. It¡¯s not as visible, but you got a built-in clientele right next door.¡± Linda opened the door and led them in.


    This place, at least, wasn¡¯t covered in three inches of dust everywhere. It wasn¡¯t completely falling apart and there were no obvious hazards Quentin could see. The worst he could say about it was the stillness inside was eerie. It would be a different matter when they had the girls in there and maybe music and laughter. There was none of it there, making the place feel a little like a tomb. And if it really had passed hands so many times, who¡¯s to say it wasn¡¯t a resting place for failed businesses?


    Razia wasted no time in going upstairs, very slowly testing the stairs before she climbed them. Linda remained downstairs, leaning against the door as they checked out the second story. To Quentin¡¯s complete lack of surprise, it was an ordinary, run down inn. There were a dozen rooms upstairs, none of them especially big or small. The only life to be found was bugs and the occasional rat.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Quentin asked as Razia opened the third room and closed the door within seconds.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking that either this is a sales play to make us really want the third property,¡± she said, ¡°or else she really doesn¡¯t want us to buy anything at all. There¡¯s no way we¡¯re going for this one.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Quentin, ¡°why not? Walk me through your logic.¡±


    Razia considered it and gestured to the line of rooms. ¡°Honestly, an inn would be perfect if we had a decent sized operation. Something like this would be a good way to grow into, get more girls and a couple guys working for us. Twelve rooms, we could easily have eighteen or twenty people working at any given time.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± Quentin prodded, trying not to imagine their group getting that outrageously large.


    ¡°But the location is about as bad as it can get.¡± Razia led him to the window at the top of the stairs. She wiped away some dust and it was easier to see the line of houses. ¡°We¡¯d either have a built-in clientele right there, or we¡¯d have a group of pissed off husbands and wives who don¡¯t want their partners straying and make life difficult for us.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say they did appreciate us being here. We¡¯d be right here at all times.¡± She made a face. ¡°We want a place that¡¯s handy and accessible, but out of the way enough to make it a conscious choice to go to us. I¡¯d give it a few months before they got bored with us. Those that don¡¯t get too attached and fall in love and make trouble for us that way.¡±


    Quentin found himself smiling. ¡°How often does that happen? Falling in love with a whore?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow at him, and immediately he felt self conscious and silly. ¡°Often enough that some girls rely on it as their retirement plan. Work while their looks are still good and they¡¯re not too bitter to deal with it, and eventually find a decent enough guy and switch to being a homemaker. Or they die young and don¡¯t need to worry about it.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but make a face. ¡°Well, that¡¯s depressing.¡±


    ¡°It can be. It¡¯s why we¡¯re going to do it better. Right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Quentin smiled.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Linda asked them when they came back downstairs. She had a hungry gleam in her eyes. Privately, Quentin was beginning to think there wasn¡¯t any special sales cunning at work here. Linda was as straightforward as they came, and she wanted to get paid at least as badly as they wanted a place to work.


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    ¡°I think we¡¯d like to see the last place on your list,¡± said Razia.


    There was a distinct slump in Linda¡¯s shoulders as she led them around the city. She¡¯d been clear that it wasn¡¯t a buyer¡¯s market, but still had a few places she thought might work. Maybe she¡¯d been spoiled by how easy it had been to find Quentin a house with the shards he had on hand for a good down payment. His only requirement had been big and classy, and she¡¯d found him the best option for someone who wasn¡¯t highborn and had generational wealth at his disposal. It had taken her all of three days to find and acquire it. It made sense that this could and probably would take longer, but Quentin shared in her frustration.


    The last leg of their journey wasn¡¯t too far from there, and was in a much easier location to find. It was a corner building at a four way intersection in a mediocre neighborhood. It was neither an inn or a tavern, but an insula instead. Three stories of cramped identical homes, with a common room and kitchens at the bottom. There was more than enough room, but seeing it made Quentin¡¯s stomach turn.


    ¡°This¡¯ll give you all the room you need,¡± Linda said, as if reading Quentin¡¯s mind. She sounded a bit annoyed and insistent now. ¡°Room after room for girls to work in, and it¡¯s all neatly organized. Mostly furnished too, so you won¡¯t have to worry about that.¡±


    Razia looked at it, frown widening by the second. ¡°You mean to tell me that there¡¯s big, cheap housing in the middle of the world¡¯s largest city and it¡¯s empty and ready to be sold?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Linda scoffed. ¡°There are people living there right now, but the owner wants to part with the property and he¡¯s willing to sell it for under market value. Going price is 4000, but I can probably talk him down to 3500. You buy this and evict a few people, you¡¯ll have income from the whores and from the tenants you don¡¯t kick out.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t need to confer with Razia over this one. The place reminded him of where he and his father ended up after Quentin¡¯s mother died. A tiny, shitty place to live filled with hateful, nosy bastards who couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone. And having to evict people for their business? Quentin was a damned soul and he knew it, but he wasn¡¯t a bastard. ¡°I¡¯m not nearly scummy enough to be a landlord,¡± he said.


    Linda let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°I¡¯m glad you alone have the moral backbone to make a stand,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Still, you¡¯re in a location with lots of foot traffic, you¡¯d have built in clientele and a place for your whores to live when they¡¯re not working, it¡¯s got everything you need.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not wrong,¡± Razia said, looking about as repulsed as Quentin felt. ¡°Plenty of room for growth when we need it. All it would cost is making people homeless whenever it¡¯s convenient for us.¡±


    ¡°Alright, okay, message received,¡± Linda grumbled, definitely annoyed now. ¡°These were the places I could show you today. Did none of them strike your fancy?¡±


    He and Razia shared a look and a silent conversation. They were getting better and better at that. It helped that her face was plenty expressive and she could read him like a book. It took less than ten seconds for them to come to a consensus. Turning to Linda, Quentin said, ¡°The tavern was the best one, but that¡¯d need a lot of work. We¡¯d be practically better off knocking it over and building something new.¡±


    ¡°I know some masons I could hook you up with,¡± Linda offered helpfully.


    Quentin almost laughed. ¡°So do I. I think we¡¯ll wait until the next batch of properties you can show us. Another week roaming around won¡¯t hurt us, will it Razia?¡± Though he wasn¡¯t entirely convinced that just paying them to stay home while they licked their wounds wasn¡¯t a better option.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s mostly worked out for us this long. We can afford to be patient, but not wait until summer patient.¡±


    Linda shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Then I¡¯ll gather info on what properties are available and try to find you something by this time next week. Considering your reactions, I¡¯ll limit it to inns and taverns only. Shall I send a fleetfoot to you when I have them?¡± She cocked her head to the side.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Quentin nodded. He fished around in his pocket and drew out a castura piece and handed it to her. ¡°For your time. You¡¯ve given us a lot to think about and a better understanding of what we need.¡±


    Linda took it, expression brightening immediately. ¡°Next week, then. I¡¯ll have a place you can¡¯t say no to, Quintius. I guarantee it.¡± She inclined her head respectfully and left them there, taking the long way around to a bigger, friendlier street.


    Quentin and Razia remained standing at the corner, staring up at the insula. ¡°Never liked these places,¡± Quentin muttered. ¡°Even if we didn¡¯t have to kick people out to make it work. I lived in one like this once. Most miserable period of my life. I went from a shithole like this to my current home, and I could never go back.¡±


    Razia hmm¡¯d her agreement. ¡°Hard to imagine you coming home from a hard night of fighting, tired and battered, to a place like this. Your home¡¯s a bit empty and could use some decoration, but it suits you. It¡¯s peaceful and quiet.¡±


    That made him snort. ¡°My life is anything other than peaceful and quiet. Especially since meeting you.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, your life might not be peaceful or quiet, but you yourself are, when no one is bothering you. Those first few days staying with you, I wasn¡¯t sure if you were extra quiet because I was there and you were uncomfortable or if it¡¯s just how you were. Even knowing you probably just weren¡¯t used to having company.¡±


    A thought struck him. ¡°Does it bother you?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°I know I¡¯m not all that sociable. I prefer keeping to myself. I¡¯m probably not the best company you¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    Razia rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Quit being down on yourself. If I want your attention, I have it and we both know it.¡± He could hardly argue with that. ¡°I like it here with you. I¡­¡± She shrugged, looking away. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten into a bad habit of thinking of it as my home now, instead of just staying with you. I have to remind myself that I¡¯m there only as long as you want me.¡±


    Tentatively, Quentin put his arm around Razia¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve got no plans to kick you out anytime soon. You¡¯d have to fuck me over pretty badly for that to change. Let¡¯s¡­Let¡¯s go home,¡± he said, ¡°It¡¯s your home too, but I¡¯m a bit nervous leaving the rest of the girls there alone. If one of them goes into my room¡­¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll kill her and throw her body in the river,¡± Razia said cheerfully. She let out an unhinged laugh at the look on his face.


    Despite his words, there was no real hurry to get home. They wound their way back towards the Boulevard, keeping close to one another. For the thousandth time since they got together, Quentin was struck by what an odd sight they must¡¯ve been together. Her with her shaved head and brightly colorful dress against dark skin, him with his impossible pallor and great height. But Quentin found he was getting used to the stares, and they slid off him easier now. It was hard to care about what others thought when he was too focused on enjoying getting out of the house and being able to see in the middle of the day.


    As they passed the street side of his home, Razia stopped them. ¡°That¡¯s ours, right?¡± At Quentin¡¯s nod, she asked, ¡°Why don¡¯t we ever go inside from here? There¡¯s a door right there, but we always go in through the courtyard.¡±


    Quentin led them up to the window, which was boarded shut. Still, the shutters opened a crack and he motioned for Razia to get a peek through it. ¡°All of these houses have an office facing the street. Most of my neighbors work out of their homes, taking a few rooms for their businesses and the rest for their families. I live here but have never had a reason to use the front, so I closed it up and used it for storage. I just made it a habit of going in through the courtyard like everyone else who lives here and never thought about it.¡±


    Razia nodded in understanding. They went around and used their normal entrance, Razia waving at the guards at their post. One of them had a big doofy grin on his face and waved back at her in a way that made his superior clear his throat. Razia shook with silent laughter as the heavyset guard forced his face into neutrality and looked past them.


    ¡°How long did it take to get them eating out of your palm?¡± Quentin said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only got half of them, I think,¡± said Razia brightly. ¡°Some of them still haven¡¯t forgiven me for bringing bandits to their doorstep, and some seem determined to hate me. But that¡¯s always how it goes. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s check on Lucy.¡±


    Most of the girls, Lucy included, were there in the atrium waiting for them. Lucy, Samantha, and Tricia were sitting on the lounger while Jenna and Lynne sat with their feet in the pool under the skylight. A garbled, mixed up greeting erupted from them when they stepped in from the garden. Lucy was looking worse now than she did the day before, her face one giant bruise, but she wasn¡¯t stuck in bed. No doubt Samantha got her the better painkillers from Quentin¡¯s stash.


    ¡°Hey Bossman,¡± Jenna called out, giving him a lopsided grin. ¡°You find us a good place to work?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Razia answered for them. ¡°We saw a few places, and we¡¯re gonna check out more in a week.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re we gonna do until then?¡± Samantha asked. ¡°Should we take a few days off, maybe spend them with family?¡±


    ¡°How long does your offer to¡­You know, cover us last?¡± Lynne asked.


    Quentin should¡¯ve expected questions as soon as they got back, but a part of him was still surprised by it. Of course they were curious, and he wished he had better news for them. This wasn¡¯t something Razia could answer, this was all on him to make the call. ¡°We¡¯ll take a week, paid. You can go home if you want to, or you can stay here. I¡¯ll see about getting another bed or two, since my home is apparently an inn now.¡± There was no venom in his words or his crooked smile.


    ¡°Are you sure we can just work here?¡± Jenna asked, face turning red. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to push, I swear,¡± she quickly added. ¡°This just seems perfect.¡±


    ¡°If you like it so much,¡± Razia said, crossing her arms over her chest, ¡°Buy your own. I have it on good authority that next door is still for sale.¡±


    It was like a lightning flash, or being dunked in cold water. As soon as the words left Razia¡¯s mouth, time crawled to a standstill, and Quentin felt very stupid. It was staring them right in the face, and had been since they walked into Linda¡¯s office. Razia looked up at him and he could see she had the same realization that he had.


    ¡°On second thought,¡± Razia said, ¡°maybe we do have a place after all¡­¡±

 Chapter 51: Neighbors

    Chapter 51: Neighbors


    The villa may have been identical in layout, but it already felt different to Razia. Quentin¡¯s home was peaceful and quiet, and that quiet had a weight to it. For all of its size, it was a stark, minimalist place, as closed off and distant as Quentin could be. Even with all of the girls making noise, it was clear they were invaders, disrupting the silence. Quentin may have owned the second house, but it didn¡¯t belong to him. Even only half outfitted, it was far too lively to be his.


    Though that was at least in part due to the half a dozen laborers moving furniture and potted plants into the girls¡¯ new home. Razia opened the door to the final bedroom and motioned for the movers to bring in a bed and a dresser. ¡°This is the last of it?¡± She asked them.


    The closest laborer, a burly tanned man named Hector stopped, and so did his partner holding the other side of the bed frame. On top was a plush mattress without any linens, and their arms were clearly twitching after a couple hours of working nonstop. Sweat practically poured off his brows. ¡°No, we still have some tables and chairs to bring in. We¡¯re gonna need a break before those.¡±


    Razia nodded. ¡°Of course. We¡¯ll get some water and fruit out for you.¡± She got out of their way as they lugged the furniture in, most of the men¡¯s eyes lingering on her as they passed. Just like they¡¯d been doing all day. Razia had been on her best behavior and hadn¡¯t teased or instigated anything. There was too much to do to lose time playing with them.


    They set the bed down in the same place in the middle of the room as they had with all the other rooms. Each of them had a bed, a full dresser, a small wash basin and some towels. Other than that, the girls would be free to decorate their rooms as they saw fit, turning it into their perfect place to work. They still couldn¡¯t believe their luck and Razia remained giddy about it as well.


    She left them behind and walked through the rest of the villa, towards the garden. All around the atrium were large, leafy ferns and rows of hardy but colorful flowers. Vines wrapped around the four columns around the skylight in a spiral, stopping halfway up. Razia and the girls had come up with ideas of how they wanted the place to look, and Quentin shrugged and made it happen. Razia kept a runny tally of the costs, growing increasingly worried that the next expense would be too much.


    Three days of shopping around and setting up their business and not once had Quentin blinked at any of it. Not at the basic necessities, and not for the plethora of rugs and tapestries and even a few sculptures they wanted to make the place more than just a house people went to when they wanted their dick sucked. Together, the girls worked to make the house beautiful. They were very nearly ready.


    Razia slipped out to the garden and out the gate. She waved to a group of neighbors who had gathered together and watched as the Fleetfoot couriers brought their purchased wares inside. None of them waved back. This didn¡¯t bother her in the slightest. All it did was make her smile wider as she went in through the other garden and into Quentin¡¯s much more sparse home.


    ¡°Hey Sam,¡± Razia said, coming upon the redhead in the kitchen. ¡°You mind serving up water and grapes for the guys? They¡¯ve been at it for a while.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure!¡± Samantha grabbed Quentin¡¯s only platters and some clay cups and got to work while Razia dipped back out.


    While all major decisions hinged on Quentin¡¯s word, it was Razia herself who was in charge of organizing everything and everyone. A task she was more than happy to perform, if she was being honest. Between picking out the furniture and delegating tasks to the other girls, it was everything Razia dreamed of. Everything Piro had promised her and then backed out on. Well, the joke was on him. She got a little burgeoning empire of her own, and she¡¯d bound his hands together. His loss was very much her gain.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Razia said, peeking her head into Quentin¡¯s room. He was in the little toilet room in the corner, wearing only his undergarments. Soap covered part of his face and he held a knife up to his cheek. His eyes met hers in the mirror and he stiffened, but only for a second. ¡°We¡¯re getting pretty close to done for the day, and you really gotta see how it¡¯s coming together.¡±


    Quentin grunted in response. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll be out in a bit.¡± He looked at himself in the mirror and made a face. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I let it get as bad as I did. I¡¯m not someone who can pull off a beard.¡±


    Rather than take the hint to leave him alone, Razia came up behind him. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. No one looks good with a patchy beard, but I can see you in ten years looking dapper and distinguished with a month or two to grow it out.¡± She smiled at his reflection. If he wanted her to push his boundaries, it was easy enough to know what would do the trick. Being anywhere near naked around her always made him squirm. ¡°You going to cut your hair too? It¡¯s starting to get a bit shaggy.¡±


    He grunted in the affirmative, then shaved away a small line on his cheek. ¡°Long hair¡¯s bad for a fight. Gives them something to grab onto. I¡¯m overdue but it¡¯s a pain in the ass to do on my own.¡±


    Razia raised an eyebrow. ¡°So don¡¯t do it on your own. Samantha cuts her siblings¡¯ hair all the time. Hell, I could do it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want my hair quite as short as yours.¡±


    She laughed, wrapping her arm around his waist. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen me before I came to Orchrisus. I had hair down to my ass in neat, tiny braids.¡±


    Quentin paused. Pulling the knife away from his face he turned to her and said, ¡°I can¡¯t see it. This is just so¡­well, you.¡±


    ¡°It is now. When I escaped my father¡¯s men, I needed a way to not match the description they had of me. Easiest way of doing it¡­¡± Razia mimed slicing her hair off. ¡°It worked, and I¡¯ve kept it like this since. Much nicer in the desert, honestly.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s expression turned thoughtful. ¡°Are you always on the run?¡±


    Yes. No. It was complicated. ¡°Not anymore,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere in the foreseeable future. Here, let me.¡± She took the knife from him and ushered him down to sit on the toilet. Quentin obeyed hesitantly. Razia held up the knife to his cheek and tilted his head back. Sitting, he was now roughly the same height as her.


    Carefully she scraped a line of hair from his face, dipping the blade into a basin of hot water before returning to his cheek. Wordlessly she worked, cutting small, smooth lines into his wiry white beard. It only took a couple of minutes to get rid of the rest of it, and she did it in an enjoyable, companionable silence. When she was finished she grabbed a towel and wiped the excess soap from his face. ¡°Much better,¡± she said, running her thumb over the smooth skin.


    Quentin sat very still. Razia noticed it was what he did when he was unsure of what to do, or uncomfortable. He became a statue, as if not moving meant he was safe. Silly man, he was never safe around her. Little moments like this were Razia¡¯s favorite way of teasing him. Seduction was one of her favorite games, and it was as intoxicating as any drug. But it was different with him. Razia didn¡¯t give him suggestions of sex to lead him by the nose. She teased him with glimpses of intimacy, tiny tastes of touch. Each time he froze was another time he was presented with a choice he didn¡¯t know how to make.


    ¡°I should get dressed,¡± he said, standing and breaking contact. This was another round she won, and another round where they both lost. Razia just smiled and waited until he turned around to check himself in the mirror.


    ¡°When you do, come on over and take a look.¡± Razia¡¯s smile turned wicked and before she left, she brought her hand crashing down on Quentin¡¯s ass, making him jump. She laughed and left him there. So far, it was an excellent day.


    The look on Samantha¡¯s face threatened to ruin it. ¡°Um,¡± she said, looking over her shoulder towards the garden. ¡°I think something¡¯s going on outside. They don¡¯t look happy.¡±


    Razia blinked. ¡°Who doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Everyone?¡±


    Razia walked past Samantha, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing as she went. She walked out to the courtyard, which was now a lot more full than she¡¯d ever seen it. The assembly of their neighbors had grown, and some of the guards were now milling about as well. Before she saw them she heard them arguing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn what the bylaws say,¡± A pompous sounding man in his fifties or sixties all but shouted into the security chief¡¯s face. ¡°We were here first, and we have rights godsdammit!¡±


    Ah, here it was. In truth, she and Quentin had been expecting some kind of blowback from the neighbors. At the very least there would be angry mutterings and maybe someone confronting them about their new business. It made sense that it happened on the day men moved in and out of the commons lugging an absurd amount of furniture while beautiful women milled around their new home. Jenna hid behind the gates of the garden, peeking her head out cautiously. She knew trouble when she saw it.


    And trouble saw Razia. A short, shrewish looking woman smacked her husband on the chest and pointed at Razia. A dozen other heads turned her way, staring daggers at her. Nearby guards shifted uncomfortably, looking between Razia and the others. They didn¡¯t want to get involved, but it was clear they expected to have to. If things got ugly, maybe they¡¯d be on her side. She wasn¡¯t counting on it.


    ¡°Hi there,¡± Razia said brightly. ¡°Is there a problem here?¡±


    The pompous man pushed past the exasperated chief and jabbed a finger in her direction. ¡°You¡¯re damned right there¡¯s a problem. You!¡±


    Razia¡¯s mouth dropped in a surprised O and she clutched her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you could mean!¡± she said, cackling on the inside. ¡°Have I done something to offend?¡± She could be a good actress when she chose to be. This wasn¡¯t one of those times.


    It wasn¡¯t her best quality. Most of the time she could keep her eyes on the prize and play nice until she got what she wanted. Diplomacy was a fine art, but she wasn¡¯t quite an artist. Not when every so often diplomacy was forgotten in favor of stirring the pot and making things worse. For as much as she liked control and skillfully getting what she needed, sometimes she just chose chaos. It was the same impulse that had her robbing crime lords and confronting an executioner with knowledge of his secret identity. Even knowing it would one day likely get her killed, sometimes she couldn¡¯t resist.


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    ¡°Ever since you started coming around here, things have been worse!¡± he said, coming closer but not too close. As if she was going to bite him if he didn¡¯t keep at arm¡¯s length. Or maybe strangle her. ¡°First you lead bandits to our doorstep, then you come and go in and out at all hours of the night! And now this.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Razia held up a finger. ¡°You¡¯re upset because I¡¯m a night person? This seems a bit much, to be honest.¡±


    All of them started talking at once, yelling over each other to be heard.


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not what we¡¯re talking about!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about decency for crying out loud!¡±


    ¡°...and I don¡¯t want these she-wolves around my kids!¡±


    A hand on her shoulder let her know Quentin had arrived. She looked up at him. He was wearing his shades but not his cloak. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out at them. ¡°What seems to be the problem, Fred?¡±


    The chief guard turned away from the crowd of angry upper middle class people sighing. ¡°They¡¯re here to protest your purchase of that house and the current occupants.¡±


    ¡°And they don¡¯t like how late we stay up,¡± Razia helpfully supplied.


    Pompous man¡¯s face turned red. ¡°It¡¯s not about that, it¡¯s about you people driving the rest of this area down. This is a good neighborhood, with decent people. Mostly,¡± he added, sneering at Quentin. Quentin¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but Razia knew it still bothered him.


    Razia wrapped her arm around Quentin¡¯s waist and grinned. ¡°Are you saying that you don¡¯t want a group of whores living around you guys?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what we¡¯re saying,¡± he said. A chorus of agreements sounded from the people behind him. ¡°This is a good, clean place and we don¡¯t need the likes of you sleazing it up and bringing us down.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Razia scoffed. ¡°Everyone loves whores. Or at least I know some of you do.¡± She waved at a blonde woman in an expensive dress.¡±Like Olanna over there. Hi Olanna!¡±


    They all turned around to face Olanna. Olanna shrank, sending a withering glare at Razia who just beamed at the attention. Olanna¡¯s wife didn¡¯t look too happy. Quentin¡¯s hand on her shoulder squeezed, and she squeezed his hip back.


    Must you? He seemed to say.


    I must! Her squeeze replied.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want you here,¡± The shrewish woman insisted.


    Razia shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s our problem. Any of you could¡¯ve bought that house and did whatever you wanted with it. You didn¡¯t, we did, and here we are. Do you think that we should get a say over what happens in your homes, or is it just one sided?¡±


    ¡°Quintius,¡± Pompous seethed. ¡°Are you going to let her do all of the talking for you? We¡¯re here to talk to you.¡±


    Quentin smiled then, and it was the cold, false smile he presented when he was irritated or upset. It wouldn¡¯t fool anyone, and between that and his hidden eyes he gave off an impression of a relaxed but wary predator. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that, Leonis,¡± he said. ¡°Seems to me she¡¯s doing a good job. I¡¯m not hearing anything worth replying to.¡±


    They didn¡¯t react well to that. The yelling got louder and louder and a couple of them surged forward, pointing and yelling at them. That got the attention of the guards, who came in between them and formed a human wall to keep everyone apart. Razia wasn¡¯t worried, and it just made the situation juicier. The way she saw it, there was nothing they could do about it other than complain at them. They were just making things worse on themselves.


    ¡°Enough already!¡± The chief guard bellowed. Everyone fell silent. He turned an angry eye to Razia, who had to fight the urge to wink at him. He was possibly one of the only people she needed on their side. ¡°I think people might be less sore about this if you heard their concerns and addressed them,¡± he said in a voice like a parent talking to unruly children. ¡°Is that acceptable?¡±


    Quentin grunted as Razia said, ¡°Yes, I think so. What concerns are that, Fred?¡±


    Fred pointed to a burly man with a drooping mustache. He cleared his throat and said, ¡°We don¡¯t want strange people coming all hours of the night, wandering around. If we¡¯re to expect your customers coming in and out, that¡¯s going to make the guard¡¯s job of keeping troublemakers out harder.¡± Voices raised around them, agreeing.


    Quentin took this one. ¡°We¡¯re not going to allow any customers out into the commons. The garden gates will remain locked and anyone who tries to get out will be thrown out. We have no intention of letting them interfere with any of your lives.¡±


    ¡°Besides,¡± Razia added, throwing oil on the fire, ¡°The guards have been used to people coming and going for a while. Between Quentin and your kids? People sneak in and out every night.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± a woman said. ¡°What do you mean our kids?¡±


    Razia shrugged, saying, ¡°I don¡¯t know whose kids belong to whom, but I¡¯ve seen plenty of teenagers slip out late at night when I¡¯m sitting at the fountain. At least two or three a night sometimes.¡± Or maybe only once or twice, but they didn¡¯t need to know that.


    That got a couple of them looking at each other frantically, each wondering if it was one of their kids sneaking out without them knowing. Others weren¡¯t to be deterred. A dark skinned Ramali woman wearing a lot of jewelry chimed in. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then your business is doubly dangerous. If one of our kids were to venture in --¡±


    ¡°We would throw them out,¡± Razia interrupted.


    Beside her, Quentin nodded. ¡°The only children who might be there will be family of my employees, or maybe working the kitchen. No one under the age of sixteen is to be allowed entrance.¡±


    ¡°But we will be here for when your children grow up and you want to give them a good first time,¡± said Razia. ¡°In fact, every resident and guard here has a standing 25% discount for our services!¡±


    Beside her, Quentin sighed. Razia shook with silent laughter, leaning into him and hugging him. It was, of course, the wrong thing to say and everyone started speaking up again. The guards at least looked happy. Judging from their faces, it was enough to sway some of them over to her side. Bonus, if they enjoyed themselves it would give them more incentive to keep an eye out for them, maybe.


    ¡°As nice as that is, Ms. Rashid,¡± Fred said, raising his hands to quiet people down. ¡°I can¡¯t be splitting my men¡¯s attention to help keep your business safe.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t need to. We¡¯ll have our own private security for the house. You keep watch on the commons and the streets outside and we¡¯ll take care of ourselves.¡±


    That was enough to make Fred just shrug. It seemed like a token complaint anyway, and while the man didn¡¯t look happy with them, he didn¡¯t look antagonistic either. Mostly, he just seemed tired and done with all of this. Her own enjoyment was starting to wane as it went on, but there was still fun to be had. Razia looked around. ¡°Anyone else with concerns?¡±


    Their neighbors glowered at her. A couple of them turned and walked away from the group, muttering to themselves as they went back inside. Including Olanna and her wife, Razia noted with glee. They had some stuff they needed to work out. Maybe it was wrong of her to out her, given she was the one who pointed out where Quentin lived when Razia asked, last month. But then, she shouldn¡¯t have been part of the irritated mob too. She only had herself to blame.


    It was Leonis who spoke up again. He looked like he had reached the point where he was ready to strangle her, only to find a calm in the eye of the storm. Looking at them with cold hate in his eyes, he said, ¡°It¡¯s bad enough having to share a neighborhood with a freak like you, Quintius. Did you really have to invite a bunch of whores to come live with you?¡±


    ¡°I think a better question is did he have to buy his girls their own house,¡± Razia supplied. ¡°And the answer is no. He didn¡¯t have to.¡± Quentin looked down at her, puzzled. ¡°But he did. For us. Because that¡¯s the kind of guy he is. He¡¯ll look out for a bunch of girls just trying to make a living, and he¡¯ll tolerate canker sores like you without trying to make it worse. Me? I¡¯d just as happily declare war on you and make you as miserable as you¡¯re trying to make us.¡±


    Once more his hand squeezed her shoulder. Tightly this time, and the message was clear: enough. It was too late to stop Leonis from reacting though. ¡°You see, Fred?¡± he demanded. ¡°Now she¡¯s threatening me. I¡¯ve half a mind --¡±


    ¡°If that!¡±


    Leonis¡¯ sentence trailed off into a garbled scream. He took a step towards her, fist raised in the air. Razia didn¡¯t have time to do much more than widen her eyes in surprise before Quentin pulled her back and put himself between them. Leonis stopped, looking up a few inches at Quentin. Quentin pulled his spectacles off and directed his glare at the man. Razia wondered if Leonis had any clue Quentin probably couldn¡¯t see him too well, or if all he saw was menace.


    ¡°Try it, Leonis. It¡¯ll take half of Fred¡¯s men to get me off of you.¡± Quentin bared his teeth. The gap in the front had a tiny nub of a tooth starting to grow back. Gods, he really wasn¡¯t kidding about that.


    Fred had enough. ¡°Leonis, pack it in. If you throw the first punch I won¡¯t interfere. And you Quintius, could you kindly not threaten the other residents?¡± He put his hand on Leonis¡¯ shoulder. Leonis violently shrugged him off, but seemed to regain his sanity. Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed up.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Quentin, sounding anything but. ¡°I can be overprotective.¡±


    Fred grunted. Turning around to address their neighbors, he said, ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough from all of you. You¡¯re not going to change their minds and they¡¯re not going to change yours. You don¡¯t like it? Go to the magistrate and complain, maybe someone there will listen. But let me make this abundantly clear: any of you start something and the magistrate will laugh you off. Don¡¯t make my job any harder than it has to be.¡±


    While some of them obviously didn¡¯t care for the hired help telling them what to do, the majority of them grumbled and dispersed. Some lingered a little to talk to someone close by, but by unspoken agreement they all vacated the commons. Last was Leonis, who glared at Razia one last time as if willing her to die from all of his venom. She just smiled at him.


    ¡°Was all of that really necessary?¡± Quentin asked, putting his spectacles back on. He was frowning. Or maybe that was his neutral expression. With the shades on it was hard to tell. Razia let out a pleased laugh.


    ¡°Probably not, but I had fun. Look,¡± she let out a sigh. ¡°They were going to be pissed at us no matter what. All I did was make it clear that we¡¯re not going to back down and we¡¯re not going to be bullied or intimidated or do anything different just because they don¡¯t improve. Was any of that wrong?¡±


    Okay, now he frowned. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I suppose not. But you didn¡¯t have to tweak their noses while doing that.¡±


    ¡°No. I got to tweak their noses.¡±


    ¡°Razia,¡± he said warningly.


    Razia took his hands in hers and tugged on them, pulling him towards their business. ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°Be mad at me later, but come in and take a look at what we¡¯ve built together. You¡¯re not going to regret it!¡±


    Maybe she was just in a manic mood and wanted to cause trouble, but it came from a place of joy. And that joy was infectious. Within seconds Quentin¡¯s frown turned into an exasperated smile and he followed behind her.

 Chapter 52: Shadows of the Past

    Chapter 52: Shadows of the Past


    Quentin leaned back and tried to get comfortable, but the beetle pulling the cart had a bad limp. Every fourth step forward was jerky, leading to an uncomfortable pattern of three seconds of smooth ride followed by a hiccup that shook the passengers and had them shoving into each other. Sitting between Razia and Lucy, Quentin did his best to anchor himself and let the girls stay close rather than bump into the other passengers. They followed the unspoken rule of trips by beetle: keep to yourself and don¡¯t make eye contact with anyone.


    It would¡¯ve been difficult anyway. All three of them wore cloaks and kept their heads down. Quentin was used to it and would¡¯ve done it even if they weren¡¯t worried about venturing into enemy territory, as Razia put it. Razia wore one and was uncharacteristically muted on the trip there because their destination was passingly close to Warlord territory, and she didn¡¯t want to risk it. And Lucy wore one because after several days of healing, her face was still a mess and the poor girl hadn¡¯t wanted people to see her and stare or whisper. Quentin could hardly blame her. So they remained huddled up and stayed mostly quiet for their trip.


    ¡°You doing okay?¡± Quentin whispered to Lucy, who was unconsciously clinging to his side. He was starting to get used to Razia doing that, but it felt strange for the youngest of his new friends to be that close.


    She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m nervous,¡± she said. ¡°What if they refuse? What if they just turn me away and say they won¡¯t help me?¡±


    ¡°Why would they do that? You¡¯ve done nothing to hurt anyone and this is their job. They help people.¡± Of course, Quentin could think of a few reasons for the temple to not help. All of them were tense for different reasons. He¡¯d had prior experience in the temple district and wasn¡¯t looking forward to reliving it, but it was unlikely Lucy would receive the same treatment he did. If she did, he¡¯d¡­Razia would probably take care of it. And get them thrown out.


    ¡°They have some issues with whores,¡± Razia whispered from the other side of him. ¡°Apparently providing comfort and companionship to the faithful out of devotion is acceptable, but doing the same thing as a living is dirty.¡±


    Quentin winced. As little love for the temple as Quentin had, it still stung to see Razia¡¯s disenchantment with them. Ever since Sister Sylvia threw Razia out and practically banned her from the grand temple, the subject was a sore one. ¡°But they¡¯re not going to turn you away. They¡¯ll help, and they¡¯ll fix all of the damage. It¡¯ll be like it never happened.¡± Except, of course, for the nightmares and panic. Still, he was trying his best to stay positive.


    Lucy reached up and gingerly touched her face. It wasn¡¯t just the physical damage that left scars, as Quentin well knew. He wouldn¡¯t have blamed her for wanting her looks for her job, but it was more than that. Scars and damage were permanent reminders. This wasn¡¯t about vanity, it was about healing. ¡°I know it¡¯s silly,¡± she said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± said Razia. She reached across Quentin¡¯s lap to take Lucy¡¯s hand. ¡°You don¡¯t want to get your hopes up. It¡¯s okay to be nervous.¡±


    Quentin put his hand on both of theirs awkwardly and squeezed. ¡°If they try to say no, I¡¯ll let Razia go after them.¡± That made Lucy chuckle, at least. They fell into silence for the rest of the ride as the city passed them by. When the cart came to a stop, Quentin hopped over the side immediately. He picked up first Lucy and then Razia, bringing them down to the ground before the driver even left his seat to open the back. They set off together, now in an area Quentin found uncomfortably familiar.


    The temple district wasn¡¯t just known for having temples to the nine gods. It was also a place where servants of those gods and the services they offered lived, and where some of the city¡¯s poorest could find a smidgeon of charity and hope in the face of the perpetually hostile environment. Sometimes that was a warm meal and a simple job to get shards in their hands. Sometimes it was low-cost housing for the families of the ill, recovering in the Hearthmother¡¯s long-term hospitals.


    As they walked through what was effectively a sub-city, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and every one of his instincts was telling Quentin to turn around and go home. He wasn¡¯t welcome here and that was made abundantly clear years ago. Quentin was grateful for the two women clinging to his arms as they made their way through. It was hard to be a coward when they were relying on him for strength. So he suffered in silence, heart beating hard and fast as they arrived at their destination.


    The flesh sculptor worked in one of the Pierced Heart¡¯s areas, by far the most numerous among the gods. Orchrisus was, after all, the Pierced Heart¡¯s city. They passed by children playing and acolytes guiding the poor in tending large, outdoor gardens on their way in. Quentin led them into a large building, filled with the sick and injured. Razia craned her neck to get a good look at everyone as they passed, while Lucy just clung tighter.


    ¡°Can I help you three?¡± A handsome priest in his late twenties found them and stopped their progress. His expression was friendly enough, but it was clear he was making sure they were supposed to be there. Without answering directly, Lucy looked up, tentatively lowering her hood. The look on his face changed to understanding. ¡°Ah. What happened?¡±


    Lucy licked her lips and started to speak, but no sound came out. Razia answered for her. ¡°A bad man had her beaten to send a message. She¡¯s missing a few teeth and might have a broken cheekbone.¡±


    The priest clicked his tongue disapprovingly. ¡°You¡¯ve come to the right place, Miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Lucy,¡± she answered, in a tiny voice.


    ¡°Well Lucy, I¡¯m Brother Bobby. We¡¯ll get you taken care of.¡± He smiled at her, taking her hand and leading the three of them down a corridor. A visible wave of relief went through Lucy. She looked back at Quentin and Razia as if making sure they weren¡¯t leaving her. Quentin tried to give her a smile he wasn¡¯t feeling. As welcoming as this place seemed on the outside, he knew better.


    They were led into a neat, clean room with a single table, a chair, and a few large mirrors. Brother Bobby turned around and patted the table. ¡°Have a seat Lucy. Can I get you anything to drink?¡±


    She hopped up on the table, cautiously shedding her cloak and immediately shrinking. It would be a while before she stopped doing that, Quentin feared. He knew exactly what that was like and made a note to double and triple check on her later, regardless of how this went. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± she said. ¡°You can fix my face?¡±


    ¡°I can.¡± He smiled warmly and pointed to the mirrors. ¡°We here at the temple understand what it¡¯s like to be disfigured or not look how you want to, and some of us have practiced and been given the tools to correct this. I don¡¯t know what you looked like before your incident happened, and I can¡¯t promise you that you¡¯ll go back to looking exactly the way you did before, but we can at least give you a new normal. There¡¯s virtually nothing we can¡¯t fix with enough time and effort.¡±


    Quentin snorted before he could help himself. The rest of them turned to face him, and his face heated up at the attention. ¡°Virtually nothing,¡± he said, unable to help himself.


    Brother Bobby cocked his head to the side, getting a better look at Quentin¡¯s face under the cloak. He wasn¡¯t as hidden as he once was, but between the shades and his expression, it sometimes seemed like it accomplished more to hide who he was in plain sight. The priest clicked his tongue. ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve had the privilege of meeting, but I think I know what you refer to. We¡¯re not in the habit of undoing gifts from the gods. It wouldn¡¯t be right.¡±


    Rage flared in Quentin, white hot. ¡°Doesn¡¯t stop you from changing most peoples¡¯ appearances if they have the shards, right? I thought the temple teaches that our appearances are all a gift from the gods, every one unique.¡± He forced himself to relax before his fists clenched so hard he broke something. This wasn¡¯t going to help anyone.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± Razia admonished. She turned to the priest, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, we¡¯re not here to cause trouble. Are we?¡± She turned back to Quentin sharply. Lucy looked ready to panic. He wasn¡¯t going to screw this up for her. He shook his head and looked away.


    ¡°I think I understand a little of what you¡¯re going through,¡± Brother Bobby said, making Quentin¡¯s blood heat up again. ¡°Sometimes, your body feels like a trap you can¡¯t escape. Some of us are able to change it to suit our inner self, and others can¡¯t. For instance, I was born a woman and it didn¡¯t suit me. That¡¯s within our power to change, over time and with a lot of work. Any work we did on your skin would only be, well, skin deep. We can¡¯t change how the sun burns those kissed by the moon.¡±


    ¡°But you can help me?¡± Lucy interjected, and Quentin was grateful for it. It wouldn¡¯t do to punch out a priest who was only trying to help. It wasn¡¯t Bobby¡¯s fault he kept saying exactly the wrong thing around him.


    The priest turned back to her. ¡°Yes. The hardest part will be regrowing your teeth and settling on a stable look. It will be a bit painful and it won¡¯t be cheap, but you could potentially walk home as your new self if all you need is facial work done. But it really won¡¯t be cheap.¡±


    ¡°Not an issue,¡± said Quentin through a clenched jaw.


    Razia saw the look on his face and decided to help. ¡°How about you tell us what it¡¯ll be and we¡¯ll give you and Lucy some space to get it done?¡±


    Brother Bobby bowed his head. ¡°Twenty aquilos for facial work, mostly due to needing to deal with fixing or regrowing bones. If you can pay half up front --¡±


    Quentin pulled out his purse and fished out four purple 5 aquilo pieces and set them down on the table next to Lucy. ¡°Whatever she asks for, give it.¡± He made to turn around, but Lucy put her hand on his arm and stopped him. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly around the middle. After stiffening for a second, he hugged her back.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Q,¡± she whispered in a thick voice.


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    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he said. ¡°This was my fault to begin with. The way I see it, I still owe you.¡± He squeezed one last time before releasing her. He left the room without waiting for a response or acknowledging the other two. His heart was pounding and there was lightning in his veins. It felt like he was in the middle of a fight without a single punch being thrown.


    His feet took him back down the corridor and into the foyer, where a couple of acolytes were talking by a statue of a graceful woman dancing. Quentin only realized he was storming his way there when the sounds of his stomps made them look up at him. Looking away from them, he paced in the hallway, focusing on steadying his breathing.


    ¡°Okay, what¡¯s going on?¡± Razia asked, meeting him there just a few seconds later. ¡°You can be broody and grumpy, but you¡¯re usually not hostile. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Quentin stopped and gesticulated in the direction of the flesh sculptor, but no words came out. He motioned all around them and a sound came out of his mouth, but they weren¡¯t words. Razia reached out for his hands and squeezed them. He breathed in and out, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn¡¯t working.


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve said you¡¯ve had some problems with the temple,¡± Razia ventured in an even, soothing voice. ¡°Does this have anything to do with that?¡±


    Quentin nodded. He could do that much, at least.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    At that, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh, low and harsh. In the large, mostly empty room it echoed menacingly all around them. One of the acolytes took a step back, and then retreated down a hallway at a speed just shy of running away. Immediately, he felt guilty. There he was, the big scary moonkissed unable to get a grip on his emotions. Razia remained patient, and he felt bad for that too. She would¡¯ve been well within her rights to be annoyed with him.


    ¡°I,¡± Quentin croaked, then cleared his throat. ¡°I used to live around here. In the hospital area when my mother fell sick. For about a year.¡± Exactly one month and three days shy of a year, an unpleasant voice in the back of his mind reminded him.


    Razia made a sound of understanding. ¡°And like a lot of the places you¡¯ve lived, people were shitty to you here.¡±


    ¡°Most, but not all,¡± Quentin admitted. And that was one of the hardest things about it. A measure of kindness found among apathy and cruelty. ¡°Things didn¡¯t end well. I never thought I would come back here, and when we had to take Lucy¡­¡± he shrugged, pulling away from her. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be this bad.¡±


    That was an understatement. Being here brought it all back again. The pain, the loneliness, the isolation, the fear. Just standing around in one of the most neutral parts of the complex had Quentin wanting to leave before more memories came flooding back. But it was too late for that now. He wasn¡¯t going to abandon Lucy in what was, according to Razia, enemy territory. It certainly felt like enemy territory.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to say I understand,¡± said Razia, ¡°because I don¡¯t. I¡¯ve never seen you like this, so I know it has to have been bad. I¡¯ve watched people say some cruel, hateful things to you without you doing much more than staring at them. All I can and will say is that it¡¯s in the past, and it can¡¯t hurt you anymore. Not if you don¡¯t let it. I¡¯m not going anywhere and I¡¯ll help you deal with it in any way I can. We¡¯ll wait it out and go home.¡±


    It couldn¡¯t hurt him again? Quentin wanted to laugh in her face. That implied that it ever stopped hurting. Some things got their claws into you and never let go. No matter how much time passed or who you became, those wounds still bled. How the hell would she know anything about that? Most of her problems were self-inflicted and she just ran away from them. Razia must¡¯ve seen it on his face, because she winced and opened her mouth to speak but didn¡¯t get a chance.


    The priestess¡¯ footsteps echoed through the open room, making them both turn around. She was a beautiful woman in her late fifties, austere and statuesque. She wore the multicolored silk wraps of the temple in a way that seemed to cancel out the chaos and make them all seem muted and orderly. With a start, Quentin realized he recognized her and nearly broke down crying immediately. She stopped a couple feet away and considered them.


    ¡°My acolytes told me someone was scaring them,¡± said Sister Maggie in a voice like ice water. ¡°Imagine my surprise when they described you and I realized who it was. It¡¯s been a long time, Quentin Quintius.¡±


    Quentin swallowed hard, but didn¡¯t say anything. He couldn¡¯t. He just nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. Anything to avoid meeting her gaze. If he looked her in the eyes, she would unmake him, as easy as she breathed. ¡°Sister Maggie,¡± he choked out.


    Razia looked between the two of them suspiciously. Realization washed over her, at least partly. She put herself between the two of them, holding out her hand. ¡°Razia Rashid. How do you know Quentin?¡±


    Sister Maggie smiled humorlessly. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to forget the people who have profaned the temple.¡±


    Razia looked over her shoulder at Quentin. He didn¡¯t meet her eyes either. She didn¡¯t need to know this. This wasn¡¯t something he ever planned on sharing with her. The past was supposed to remain in the past, dead and buried. He never should¡¯ve come along. He should¡¯ve asked Demetrius to go as a bodyguard instead. ¡°I have a tough time believing Quentin ever did such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Believe it.¡± Sister Maggie sidestepped Razia and got closer. ¡°Quentin is responsible for tainting an acolyte¡¯s training. Roxana never did finish her rites because of you. A promising talent, a faithful celebrant ruined because of your grief and selfishness.¡±


    Quentin swallowed a lump the size of the moon. He tried not to think about Roxana, but it had become increasingly difficult. His hands shook at his sides and his eyes burned, but he forced himself to stay very still. He couldn¡¯t look at Sister Maggie, and now he couldn¡¯t even look to Razia for comfort or help. Shame clung to him, like hot sticky tar. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to. I didn¡¯t know what I was doing.¡±


    ¡°And yet you did. And here you are again. Why did you come back, Quentin? You know you¡¯re not welcome here anymore.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here because a friend needed services,¡± Razia said. ¡°Last I checked, your temple was here to serve the people, not exclude them. If you were so worried about not having enough acolytes, maybe you people shouldn¡¯t turn away those who apply.¡±


    Gods no, that wasn¡¯t going to help anyone. Quentin shook his head sharply, but it was too late, the damage was done. Sister Maggie¡¯s next breath was a hiss and she turned a frown that could wither roses her way. ¡°I remember you now. The arrogant child who thought she could just come in and declare her place. With no faith, no dues paid, no service.¡±


    Razia smiled. ¡°With plenty of faith, and a life dedicated to the service. Gods, I can¡¯t believe how narrow minded and judgy you bitches are.¡±


    Quentin let out a choked gasp. His hands shot out and closed on Razia¡¯s shoulders, pulling her to him and trying to warn her from speaking further. Like most warnings, she ignored it. ¡°No,¡± she said, pulling away and getting right up in Sister Maggie¡¯s face. ¡°There¡¯s no reason why we should be bending over backwards to try to appease these people. You don¡¯t deserve the way she¡¯s talking to you and neither do I. Who the fuck do you think you are, Maggie?¡±


    Sister Maggie radiated pure malice. ¡°An elder sister of the faith, a direct envoy of our god/ess of in between. A faithful vessel of pain and pleasure, guiding those who are lost. What are you, Razia? Some uppity slut. Do you really think the only thing we do is sex? I¡¯d pity you if I didn¡¯t find you disgusting. I want you both out of here. Now. Before I have you removed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll go,¡± Quentin said quickly, this time actually covering Razia¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. We¡¯ll go and never return. Just¡­Please. Let us wait outside for our friend. We won¡¯t cause any trouble, we won¡¯t talk to anyone, we won¡¯t touch anything. We just want our friend to be healed so we can go on her way. Don¡¯t punish her for our bad actions.¡±


    The priestess considered it. She let out a dismissive hmph. ¡°You will leave this place and wait out by the fountain. Don¡¯t ever let me catch you here again, Quintius. I will not have you ruin any more lives. Stick to your own god and stop interfering with mine.¡±


    Quentin all but dragged Razia out the door. The world was spinning fast enough to make him dizzy but he had enough presence of mind to make sure his friend didn¡¯t make things worse than they already were. They were at the fountain before he realized Razia was talking to him.


    ¡°...please let me go, you¡¯re hurting me, I --¡± Razia rubbed at her wrist as Quentin released her. He collapsed on the lip of the fountain, putting his head down towards his knees and breathing heavily. Razia sat down next to him and tentatively put an arm around him. When he jerked violently away, she settled close but not touching him. She said nothing and just let him be in peace.


    It was several minutes of heavy, panicked breathing before Quentin even came close to calming down. He wiped at his face, hoping and praying that Razia wasn¡¯t paying attention to him and knowing he was probably the only thing she was focusing on. She had the good grace to not say anything as he wiped away at his eyes for several minutes. He pulled his cloak around him tighter, wishing he had his old one back. He could properly hide under that one.


    ¡°Sister¡­Sister Maggie is¡­was¡­¡± Quentin swallowed again and again, but the lump wouldn¡¯t go down. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°Then we won¡¯t,¡± said Razia. ¡°I¡¯ll admit to being curious, but I won¡¯t push.¡±


    Silence fell, and Quentin took the time to calm down. If he had his way, he never would¡¯ve had to deal with this again. It would¡¯ve remained a scar. But with the way things were looking with him and Razia, he was going to have to deal with it eventually. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± he repeated, ¡°but I think I have to. But not here. Home. Later.¡±


    ¡°No pressure, Quentin.¡± Again she put her hand on his shoulder. This time he didn¡¯t duck away, so Razia pulled him in closer for a hug. He leaned over on her, resting his head on hers. And then, before he knew it, the tears came and his entire body shook with barely suppressed sobs. She didn¡¯t say anything or even directly look at him. She let him get it out and after a couple of minutes the hitches in his chest stopped. Razia pulled him in tighter and turned to kiss the top of his head.


    ¡°Whatever happened, I don¡¯t believe you were at fault. I¡¯m beginning to think that the priestesses here are all stuck up cunts,¡± said Razia, a bit too loud for Quentin¡¯s comfort. But they were more or less alone in the square, the few other people keeping their distance. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I wanted to be one of them. We¡¯ll¡­¡± She let out a snicker. ¡°We¡¯ll get a statue of the Pierced Heart for the house and run our own little temple without them.¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°You just want an excuse to spend more of my money.¡±


    ¡°I sure do! You¡¯re the best patron I¡¯ve ever had. You fund my shenanigans and never ask for anything in return. At this point you not wanting to fuck makes me feel like I¡¯m robbing you.¡±


    His throat tightened again. ¡°This¡­It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to. It¡¯s¡­This. Sister Maggie is why. At least partly.¡±


    Razia winced and rubbed his back gently. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later, whenever you¡¯re comfortable with it. For right now¡­oh!¡± Razia jumped to her feet.


    Quentin looked up, and all of the past hour became worth it. Lucy walked out towards them with the cloak on her arm, beaming. Her face was fixed up, and she looked mostly like she did before. She still had her sharp, pale cheeks and light pink lips but now they looked a little fuller than they had before. Her bright blue eyes weren¡¯t puffed up or bruised anymore, and her teeth were even straighter than they had been.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± Lucy asked, excitement in her tone.


    Razia ran up and hugged her, laughing and the two practically danced in place. ¡°Gods, you look so good! How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Better,¡± Lucy answered, sounding surprised at that. ¡°Brother Bobby was so kind the entire time. He¡­¡± She continued like that for a while, but Quentin¡¯s mind was in a million different places. They set to walking again, away from the damnedable temple complex and the scars of his past. Those scars were bleeding as they hadn¡¯t in years, and the pain was nearly as bad as when it was fresh.


    And it was only going to get worse when he had to talk about it. All he could hope was that Razia wouldn¡¯t hate him or laugh at him for what happened.

 Chapter 53: A Bit of Girl Talk (NSFW)

    Chapter 53: A Bit of Girl Talk


    ¡°Take it all you pathetic little bitch!¡± Isa snarled as she drove her cock into the man¡¯s oiled up ass. He let out a whimper and pressed his face into the pillow, pressing back against her. ¡°Good boy,¡± Isa sneered, bringing her hand down roughly on his right buttcheek. He let out a squeak and Isa laughed freely at him. His entire body shuddered with desire, and Isa could be proud of that.


    Isa didn¡¯t like or dislike what she did. It was what it was. She didn¡¯t prefer being the one to give, but she didn¡¯t have the same hangups a lot of dusk-girls had with their genitals. It objectively felt good to fuck someone else, even though it meant needing to get into it, at least a little. She enjoyed the character she played, that of an aloof, domineering, cruel mistress. It meant being able to let go and not hide her disdain or her true feelings on any subject. Something the other girls never stopped giving her shit for. They might not have appreciated her blunt honesty and strong sense of boundaries, but her clients did.


    ¡°Yes Queen, please fuck me harder!¡± The man cried out. Isa didn¡¯t have to fake all of her contempt. The worst part of the job was the customers, though Davan here was one of the better ones. There was a reason she was there tonight when the rest of them were enjoying a few nights off. Isa had money to make, and clients to retain.


    ¡°Does little bitch want to cum?¡± Isa taunted. She leaned forward until she was really giving it to him, resting all of her weight on him as she fucked him into the bed. Her breasts pressed against his back and her hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing tighter and tighter until it was painful.


    ¡°Yes! Yes!¡±


    Isa smiled. ¡°Then that¡¯ll be another castura.¡± She buried herself to the hilt and stopped there, enjoying the feeling of being deep in his guts.


    ¡°W-what?¡± He tried looking over his shoulder at her, but Isa grabbed him by the hair and shoved his face back into the rough texture of the bed.


    ¡°If you want to cum, you better give your Queen another Castura. Otherwise I¡¯m just going to fuck you and leave you to walk away with my cum dripping out of your ass and blueballs.¡± She gave his shaft a slow, teasing pump. ¡°Do you want to cum?¡±


    ¡°I-I want to cum,¡± He muttered.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Isa pulled back just enough to thrust back into him.


    ¡°I want to cum!¡± He repeated louder, thrusting his ass back at her. ¡°Anything you want my Queen, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good boy,¡± said Isa as she resumed fucking him with a frenzy, hand around his cock a blur as she jerked it wildly.


    He didn¡¯t last long. Maybe another half minute of the dual assaults on his senses before he shuddered and cried out and shot his cum all over the bed. Shortly after that Isa grunted and buried herself in deep, finishing off inside of him. There was pleasure, yes, but mostly it was satisfaction about the whole encounter. The entire thing had only taken half an hour and that extra castura would go into her savings. She planted a soft kiss on the back of her client¡¯s neck before withdrawing, stepping back and letting herself drip out of him. It was all part of the experience for the type of men who came to her.


    She joined him on the bed, laying down on her back and putting her hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling. Davan rolled over next to her, a well fucked mess and in no hurry to clean himself up. He cuddled up to her side, and Isa tolerated it for the moment. Already her thoughts were drifting ahead, to how many more stops she should make before she turned back, how much money she needed for her next visit to the flesh sculptors.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Davan, throwing his arm around her and resting his face on her breast. As warm and sticky as she already felt, she was tempted to shove him off of her, but in the afterglow he¡¯d probably get his feelings hurt. ¡°I had a really good time, my Queen.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Isa sniffed. ¡°My clients get what they pay for. And good boys who pay their queens get it all.¡± She stroked his hair idly, brushing some out of his face. She could handle this for a little bit longer.


    ¡°Same time next week?¡± He asked hopefully.


    Isa shook her head. ¡°No, I¡¯m not going to be working in inns or taverns anymore. I¡¯m¡­Upgrading.¡± If you could call it that. Sure the house they had now was big and gorgeous and fit her and the girls perfectly, but that didn¡¯t mean Isa was fond of it. Comfort, convenience, and protection? Even after the better part of a month, it felt like a trap. Razia was a pleasant snake and Quentin was unreliable and temporary. ¡°Which means my prices are going up. Not sure you can afford me anymore,¡± she said, letting the dark smile spread.


    Davan pushed himself up to rest on his elbow. ¡°How much are we talking here? My Queen,¡± he added hastily.


    Isa rolled her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re done fucking, you can use my name now. As far as I¡¯m concerned this session is over and I¡¯m taking a break before going home.¡± She pulled away from him and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Taking a small towel from the nearby dresser, she dipped it into a bowl of water and began cleaning her cock off.


    ¡°Going to be four castura for my time. Today¡¯s little tax was nudging you a little closer to my new price.¡± They all had sat down and made an agreement on what they would charge for their base services. It ended up being double what they were charging in other peoples¡¯ buildings, with a higher rate going to their pimp due to providing everything they needed. The moment things went sour, Isa was ready to bolt. If there was one thing Isa did trust, it was that ¡®Mr. Q¡¯ wouldn¡¯t pursue her if she vanished.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­That¡¯s a lot more,¡± Davan said, making her wince. He was one of the better ones, but he was clingy and had a grating voice.


    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m not worth it?¡± Isa looked over her shoulder, arching a brow at him.


    Davan backpedaled immediately. ¡°No no no, I¡¯m not saying that. Just¡­¡± He grimaced. ¡°I might only be able to see you every two weeks instead.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll mourn the loss of your companionship,¡± Isa said dryly.


    ¡°What¡¯s the reason for the price hike? What happened?¡±


    Isa rose, grabbing the silk wraps from the floor and began winding them around her body. ¡°That man you may have seen me and the other girls with. He bought a house for us to work out of. It¡¯s in a nicer area and we don¡¯t have to compete with anyone. So our worth is rising. You can find us just south of the Boulevard, in Argonza Villas. We¡¯re officially opening in three days.¡±


    That, of course, was one of the reasons she was out there. All of the girls had made ventures out into Orchrisus to find their regulars and update them. Yes, they were alive and well. No, they weren¡¯t quitting the business, they just found a new place. Why don¡¯t you find me here? The house was basically ready, they were just finishing up and making sure they had a standing clientele when they did open. Of course, none of them were supposed to fuck their clients during this rest period, but Isa was not one to let others tell her what to do. She earned her money, on her terms.


    Davan let out a sharp whistle. ¡°There? A friend of mine accidentally wandered into the courtyard there and armed guards promptly cornered him and threw him out. That¡¯s a hell of an upgrade. They¡¯re letting you girls work there, among the ¡®quality¡¯?¡± The contempt in his voice was familiar, and made her smile.


    ¡°They don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡± Isa finished getting dressed and turned to Davan. She held out her hand. He looked at it blankly for a second before she snapped her fingers and he realized what she wanted. He dug into his purse and pulled out another castura and dropped it in there.


    ¡°Good boy,¡± Isa said one last time. His face flushed, and it seemed to hit him that he was sitting there naked in a puddle of their shared fluids. Isa deposited the shard into the folds of her dress and handed him the damp towel. ¡°See you in two weeks.¡±


    Leaving the building, Isa hesitated in the middle of the street before she sighed and turned towards home. Or what passed for home now. Jenna and Samantha were nuts about the new place, and Isa could hardly blame them. It was nice, having a room to herself. A real room, with space to decorate and personalize. Someplace she wouldn¡¯t have to vacate once the innkeeper or landlord decided to try to suggest alternative forms of payment. But once again, it all boiled down to trust. Nothing good happened in Orchrisus. Not without a cost.


    Isa sighed and pushed through the crowd, ignoring the bright colors and cacophony of sounds that made Orchrisus feel alive. The city was convenient and it had its charms, but at the end of the day most people were just trying to make ends meet, and just about everyone wanted to get whatever shards they could get off of you.


    ¡°Hello there,¡± said a man, popping into her vision and blocking her path. ¡°Can I interest you in --¡± Isa covered his mouth with her hand and walked past him, giving him a rough shove as she went. He let out an indignant cry (¡°Bitch!¡±) but didn¡¯t follow her.


    No, Isa didn¡¯t love the city. She often dreamed about escaping it, finding somewhere else to live. Maybe out in the desert, among her people. Maybe somewhere beyond the desert, like the grass sea of Carolas or maybe finding a homestead up in Finsk where some lonely farmer needed a wife. She couldn¡¯t give anyone a child, but she was a prize and anyone would be lucky to have her as a companion. She just couldn¡¯t do that until she finished her transition. She couldn¡¯t move away from the temple¡¯s flesh sculptors just yet. For now, she was stuck.


    The sounds of the city faded away as she turned south, down into the relatively quiet side streets that surrounded the block of luxury villas. Each step she took brought her further away from the hustle and bustle and closer to the sanctuary she couldn¡¯t help but distrust and resent. Now, after a night of working Isa found herself looking forward to lazing around for a while. She walked through the courtyard, head held high, ignoring the whispers of their new neighbors. The guards seemed well enough on their side, but she wasn¡¯t interested in paying attention to the dirty looks the other residents loved to send their way.


    ¡°Hey, welcome home,¡± Samantha called out as Isa walked through the garden. ¡°We were just talking about you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Isa stopped short, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°And what were you saying?¡± Samantha wasn¡¯t alone. She was joined by Jenna and the traitor, who stuck by the redhead as often as she could. Isa did her best to pretend Lynne didn¡¯t exist. The alternative would be picking fights with her constantly, and she couldn¡¯t be bothered to deal with the beetleshit that would follow when everyone defended the backstabbing slut.


    ¡°You were gone for a while,¡± said Jenna neutrally. ¡°What were you up to?¡±


    ¡°I was reaching out to some of my men, letting them know where to find me.¡± Isa answered, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew where this was going and she didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°Is that all you were doing?¡± Jenna pressed. ¡°Mr. Q said we should rest and take a few days to ourselves.¡±


    And just like that, her mood was ruined. ¡°Are you now his obedient slaves?¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°He doesn¡¯t own me, and I have bills the rest of you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the going out alone part, I think,¡± Lynne said cautiously. ¡°Things are dangerous and --¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d know all about that, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Isa shot back. Lynne¡¯s face fell, and she looked like she didn¡¯t know whether to start yelling or crying. Isa took no small satisfaction from knocking her down a peg. Isa may have been a prickly bitch, but at least she didn¡¯t get others hurt. ¡°It¡¯s always been dangerous. Having a pimp to scare off the dregs doesn¡¯t make it much safer. As you may have noticed. Lucy definitely noticed.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Come on, that¡¯s not fair,¡± said Samantha. Beside her, Lynne¡¯s face fell to something between rage and despair. ¡°Lucy already forgave her.¡± By which Samantha meant that she forgave her, and didn¡¯t understand why anyone else wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Good for her,¡± Isa sighed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean the rest of us have to. No telling what she¡¯ll do the next time things get difficult.¡±


    Lynne reacted like she¡¯d been slapped. A dark part of Isa luxuriated in the other woman¡¯s discomfort. She deserved as much for getting Lucy hurt. She deserved a lot worse, and no one but Isa seemed to realize it. Not for the first time, she felt an impossibly wide gulf between her and the other women. It always seemed to end up this way. Just because Isa wasn¡¯t willing to back down and accept the same shit everyone else took and took. When she stood her ground and didn¡¯t give in, somehow it was always her who was the asshole.


    ¡°I¡¯m really, really sorry,¡± Lynne said, voice thick with emotion. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to. I didn¡¯t want to die either. I was alone, and I¡¯ve seen what Darriq could do when angry. What would you¡¯ve done in my situation?¡±


    Isa opened her mouth to deliver another biting comment, but stopped. What would Isa do? Simple. She wouldn¡¯t have let herself be in a place where someone had that kind of power over her. That¡¯s what the others didn¡¯t seem to get. You chain yourself to one person, and that person could disappoint you. They could fail you and leave you worse off than you were before. It was better to stay on the move and not let people get too close.


    But it was also better to move in a group. Safety in numbers, and things had been safe for the most part. Maybe that was why she couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the beating. It was the first time in nearly a month that any of them had so much as a bruise from a bad client. The true answer came to her a second later, and she hated where her mind went. ¡°I would¡¯ve set him up. Why didn¡¯t you tell the rest of us? Quentin was doing whatever the fuck it was he was doing during that week, but maybe a threat would¡¯ve shaken his ass up.¡±


    ¡°We talked about that, actually,¡± said Jenna. She was the only one who didn¡¯t seem too rocked by the conversation. ¡°Afterwards. That she could¡¯ve and should¡¯ve come to us. And that¡¯s what¡¯ll happen the next time.¡±


    ¡°When was this?¡± Isa demanded.


    Jenna smiled sweetly. ¡°It was just this past week, when you were out doing whatever the fuck you were doing.¡±


    A flash of rage was there and gone before Isa could register it. She let out a surprised laugh that made everyone tense up before they realized it wasn¡¯t going to be followed by an angry rant or caustic words. Isa came over to one of the wide, luxurious couches and sat down next to Jenna, letting herself get comfortable. ¡°You¡¯re really going to put that much trust in the pale bastard after he let us down?¡±


    ¡°Hey, be nice,¡± Samantha scolded her. ¡°He can¡¯t help the way he looks.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s softness irritated Isa, if only because she found herself softening around the edges to not upset her. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. ¡°No, but he can help who he is. Just a few days ago he admitted that he was a killer. As in, he made enough money to buy not one but two homes like this off a pile of bodies. Doesn¡¯t that make any of you even a little bit worried?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Jenna laughed. ¡°Bossman¡¯s scary as hell. I wouldn¡¯t want to piss him off. But he hasn¡¯t done anything to me. Shit, I¡¯ve got more money in my purse than I¡¯ve had in months, and I¡¯m working less.¡±


    The rest of them made a noise of agreement. ¡°You know how me and him first met,¡± said Samantha. ¡°Thanks to him, I knew Otho was willing to let me die! Because of that, we all got out and now we¡¯ve got it better. Isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isa said sharply. ¡°It was because of Razia¡¯s temper we all had to uproot and start over. How are you not mad at her for that?¡±


    ¡°Well, she did say she¡¯d take care of us,¡± Jenna said with a shrug. ¡°She kept her promise.¡±


    ¡°Is it taking care of us if she¡¯s fixing a problem she caused in the beginning?¡±


    ¡°It is when things are better now!¡± Samantha chirped.


    Brushing a long strand of blonde hair out of her face, Lynne spoke up. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to think that night we all met. Mr. Q broke Darriq¡¯s arm and then I got invited to join you. Maybe he¡¯s as much of a monster as Darriq is, but he doesn¡¯t seem like it.¡±


    Of course it seemed that way. None of them were using their heads and really thinking about it. Traps rarely looked like traps at first. They had to look appealing to lure people in. That¡¯s how people like Razia operated. They offered up solutions that seemed like they would work and then never quite delivered. They¡¯d keep that up until the suckers they were fleecing realized they were being cheated. But at this point, Isa was having trouble with her own arguments.


    ¡°Have any of you, any of you at all, ever asked yourself what Quentin wants from us?¡± Isa looked around at them. ¡°Do you really think he¡¯d be doing all of this out of the goodness of his heart?¡±


    Silence answered her. A smug smile on her face, Isa said, ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s doing it for Razia,¡± said Jenna, looking thoughtful. ¡°They¡¯re always spending time together when they¡¯re not with us. She¡¯s got him wrapped around her pinky.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Isa. ¡°Great. So he¡¯s doing it for her. Do you think she¡¯s doing it out of the goodness of her heart? What do you think Razia wants from us?¡±


    The silence that fell was even longer than the first. Isa looked around, enjoying a sense of vindication. Finally, they were starting to see what she did. Isa may not have been kind, but she wasn¡¯t cruel for no reason. She was as sharp as she was because she wasn¡¯t easily taken in by the same shit that distracted everyone else. There was something going on here.


    ¡°What if she¡¯s just having a good time?¡± Samantha guessed. Isa snickered, but Samantha pressed on. ¡°No, I mean it. Me and her have talked about it a lot. We love doing what we do. It¡¯s fun, it¡¯s interesting, and we could do it anywhere. I mean, once my debt was done me and Razia even talked about going on the road and traveling. I don¡¯t think she wants to hurt us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jenna agreed, ¡°I think she just kind of wants to be in charge. She seems like the kind of person who wants to have everything go her way so she can show off.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s okay with you all? We¡¯re staking our lives and our livelihoods on the charity of a confessed killer and the shameless whore manipulating him.¡±


    Everyone started speaking up at once, and Isa immediately regretted her choice of words. They talked over each other, none of them sounding happy. Even Samantha looked at her with something resembling irritation, the first time Isa had ever seen it on the woman¡¯s face. It was Lynne who spoke up, standing and pointing a finger in her direction.


    ¡°Look, if you don¡¯t want to trust them, fine. If you don¡¯t want to trust me, I get it. But after spending a year under Darriq, Mr. Q¡¯s a goddamned saint in comparison. If you¡¯re so suspicious of them both, why are you even here?¡±


    The words echoed unpleasantly in Isa¡¯s head. She¡¯d asked herself the same thing, time and again. No easy answers came to mind, and the difficult ones weren¡¯t comfortable. Around the room, everyone was looking at her with a mix of irritation, impatience, and even dislike. That was fine. That was comfortable, even. It was easier in some ways to be disliked, but¡­She found that she didn¡¯t want it this time. She looked down into her lap.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she answered. ¡°Where else am I going to go? If I¡¯m not around, what¡¯s to stop you bitches from making dumb choices that¡¯ll get everyone killed?¡± No one laughed, but Samantha did smile. The seconds stretched on, making Isa squirm. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just waiting for it to all crash and burn.¡±


    ¡°So you can say I told you so?¡± asked Jenna.


    It was complicated, and Isa didn¡¯t have an easy answer for that either. ¡°So I don¡¯t let myself get my hopes up,¡± she admitted.


    That struck a chord with everyone else. Their sounds of understanding were almost worse than their irritation. ¡°That makes sense,¡± said Lynne, smiling sadly. ¡°If you end up being right, I¡¯ll be the first to say we were wrong. But I think Mr. Q and Razia might be on our side.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it.¡± Isa sniffed.


    Not two seconds later, another person walked in. They all looked up to see that it was Lucy, still looking bruised and battered but at least she was recognizable. Sort of. She smiled wide, and the gaps in her teeth were filled in, and even whiter now than the teeth around them. ¡°I¡¯m back,¡± she announced, beaming as brightly as the midday sun.


    ¡°Lucy!¡±


    ¡°Luce!¡±


    ¡°Oh my gods, you look incredible!¡±


    Almost as one they all got up and swarmed Lucy, fussing over her and gently touching her face, which had looked like so much tenderized meat before. Isa remained sitting, staring at the younger woman in confusion. He did it. The moonkissed son of a bitch actually followed through and got Lucy help. It was hard to believe what she was seeing.


    ¡°How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?¡± Jenna pressed, throwing her arms around Lucy and hugging her tightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay. A little,¡± Lucy admitted, opening her arms wide for a group hug as everyone joined her in her celebration. ¡°It felt really weird when the priest was working on me. It¡¯s really hard to describe. How do you handle going through that so often, Isa?¡± Lucy¡¯s smile almost dropped at the look on Isa¡¯s face.


    ¡°Easily,¡± Isa answered. ¡°The alternative is being stuck in a man¡¯s body. Did he really do it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Lucy brightened. ¡°Paid for it all in one go, and when I told him I¡¯d pay him back for it he wouldn¡¯t hear of it. The priest was super nice, and when I said I was scared he¡­¡±


    Isa tuned her out as her brain worked overtime. This seemed impossible, Orchrisus was a shithole filled with people who would stab you in the back for a qala. Finding people you could trust was rare, and even this uneasy group of friends seemed like something of a miracle. There was no way things could be better¡­Could there?


    She found herself standing and walking out of the room. Samantha called out after her, but Isa ignored it. Blood pounded in her head as she stormed out the garden and across the courtyard to Quentin¡¯s house. The gate was unlocked, as they promised it would be before midnight. They¡¯d promised to be available if they were needed, and Isa had sneered at the idea. Now she barged right in with a head full of steam, ready to start demanding why he¡¯d really done it. When she got to the house itself, she stopped.


    Quentin and Razia were there, on the lounger. The burly man was folded in half, face buried in his hands while Razia rubbed at his back. Isa¡¯s frustration, her distrust, everything stopped as she saw Razia whispering something in his ear and kept gently touching him. Quentin rubbed at his eyes and looked up and caught Isa¡¯s gaze. He looked like utter shit.


    ¡°Hey Isa,¡± Razia called out cautiously, even suspiciously. ¡°Everything good?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isa said, closing the distance. She didn¡¯t know why she was angry, or why she felt the need to put it on them, but it was easier than dealing with it alone. ¡°I went out tonight and saw a few clients. Told them where to find me, and then I made some money.¡±


    The two of them stared blankly at her, waiting for her to go on. Feeling almost silly, Isa pressed on, ¡°The other girls gave me shit for not taking it easy like you said, but you don¡¯t own me.¡±


    Razia opened her mouth, ready to give her an earful but Quentin put his hand on her arm and stopped her. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, giving her a tired nod. ¡°I get it. I hate sitting around resting. Were you safe about it?¡±


    That gave her pause. ¡°Of course I was safe about it. I suppose you¡¯ll be wanting your cut, right?¡± Isa reached into her silks but Quentin shook his head slowly.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t around and protecting you, so you don¡¯t owe me anything. Keep it. Put it towards your transition.¡±


    Everything he said was in that damned calm, detached manner he had. He spoke coolly, completely neutral, as if she wasn¡¯t trying to pick a fight. Isa hated it. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± she demanded, but it lacked the heat she¡¯d been feeling. It came out wrong. Instead of an angry demand, it was almost subdued.


    ¡°Rough night,¡± he grunted, lowering his gaze down to the ground. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    Isa was about to clarify exactly what she meant when Razia shook her head. The short islander looked angrier than Isa felt. She jerked her thumb towards the garden. Isa paused, and nodded. She went out, and after a minute or so Razia came out as well.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem, Isa?¡± Razia asked, sighing. ¡°What¡¯s got you acting like¡­Well, you?¡±


    Isa found that she didn¡¯t have an answer. All her anger, all her distrust, it felt cold now. Worse than that, Isa didn¡¯t know how she felt, other than knowing she didn¡¯t like it. Everything seemed so clear just half an hour ago, but now? Isa¡¯s cynical worldview was increasingly at odds with what she was witnessing.


    ¡°What¡¯ll it take to make you happy and not give us shit?¡± Razia asked. ¡°Because we¡¯re tired and really did have a terrible day. So whatever it is you want, just say it so I can maybe try to cheer Quentin up, if that¡¯s at all possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Isa swallowed. She looked past Razia towards the rest of the house, blocked by a giant leafy bush. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m¡­sorry.¡± The words were unfamiliar and felt wrong.


    ¡°Well, look at that,¡± Razia half smiled. ¡°Is that all, then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I guess. Sorry.¡±


    Razia tentatively reached out and touched Isa¡¯s shoulder. Isa almost flinched away, but stood there feeling worse by the second. ¡°Look, if you¡¯ve got a real problem, you can come to us. But can you try to keep the pointless fights to a bare minimum? Just for tonight?¡±


    Isa let herself be ushered out the gate. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± Razia gave her shoulder one last squeeze before leaving her there. To her surprise, Isa found herself blinking away some tears. It was easier to be angry, to be suspicious of everyone and to not trust. But as she stood there, feeling truly alone and cut off from the people she could almost call friends, Isa allowed herself to think that maybe¡­maybe she was wrong about some things. Maybe she was the problem.

 Chapter 55: Opening Night Part 1

    Chapter 55: Opening Night Part 1


    Quentin wasn¡¯t the type of person to buy new clothes just because. Ordinarily he kept a near identical wardrobe of generic sandy colored tunics that wouldn¡¯t get visibly dirty from dust, and heavy duty boots that were hot as hell in the desert but hid more of his skin. All of that went out the window for their grand opening and while Quentin understood the reasons why, he wasn¡¯t happy about it.


    ¡°Are we almost done?¡± He asked for the fourth or fifth time, sending a pleading look at Razia.


    ¡°Almost, Mr. Quintius,¡± the tailor said from his kneeling position. He was an older, balding man who wore battered spectacles. He fingered the trim of the tunic, nodding in approval. ¡°You look good. This suits you.¡±


    ¡°You see?¡± Razia prodded him. ¡°It¡¯s not just me.¡±


    Quentin looked in the mirror, face screwed up in disbelief. It was a midnight black tunic with gold trim along the edges, forming the shapes of stars and moons. Around his feet were sandals with straps going up his calves and stopping at the knee. The tunic was exactly his size instead of a hair too big or small, made of soft and breathable linen, and it was easy to move around in. It would look good alone or in the golden colored toga that came with it. Quentin wasn¡¯t a fan of togas. He wasn¡¯t a man of status who needed to wear one to look rich or powerful, he had no stations to advertise and no need to flaunt wealth. Until now.


    ¡°It looks like too much. It¡¯s wrong on me,¡± he complained. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my normal clothing?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said the tailor, getting to his feet. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind looking like a common laborer. I was under the impression you wanted or needed more.¡±


    ¡°He does and did.¡± Razia said, coming up beside him and putting her arm around his waist. ¡°Gustav works miracles. Not that you need a miracle to look good.¡±


    It was only a couple days after they went to the temple, Quentin¡¯s freakout and subsequent telling of his past. He wanted to say something had changed since then, but for the life of him he couldn¡¯t figure out what. It wasn¡¯t Razia, he didn¡¯t think. She always insisted on saying nice things to him, even when they weren¡¯t true. Maybe it was bothering him less, making him not want to fight it. Either way, it still didn¡¯t feel like it belonged to him.


    ¡°That¡¯s easy for you to say,¡± he said. ¡°You could make anything look good.¡± It was true. Razia was currently wearing a two colored silk top that crisscrossed over her shoulders and exposed her midsection, and a long skirt of the same green and blue with slits up her legs. Perfectly modest while insinuating more. ¡°I¡¯m at a severe disadvantage.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all about attitude,¡± she said. ¡°Anyone could pull it off with the right mindset. You¡¯re holding yourself back.¡±


    ¡°She is right sir,¡± Gustav said. He motioned with his hand towards the empty shop. They¡¯d paid a little extra for private attention, something that Quentin never regretted. ¡°Take a walk around. Try to be confident.¡±


    ¡°Even if you¡¯re not,¡± Razia added. She stepped away and motioned along with Gustav. ¡°Pretend you are. Pretend you¡¯re one of your favorite protagonists in a play. How would they carry themselves?¡±


    He thought about it for a minute, then stepped down from the stool he was on. He strode forward, slowly but purposefully, as if he had three legions behind him and knew they had his back. He forced a small smile to his face, just enough to soften his natural scowl. He did a circuit around the shop and stopped in front of the two. ¡°Report,¡± he said in a bored voice.


    ¡°Are you a confident man of business or a soldier?¡± Razia said, suppressing a laugh.


    ¡°That¡¯s general to you, you pathetic grub,¡± Quentin growled. His face cracked into a real smile he couldn¡¯t hide.


    ¡°It¡¯s better,¡± Gustav said, wiggling his hand in the air in a motion that said good enough. ¡°You¡¯ll get there.¡±


    That was good enough for Quentin. He paid the man and collected his cloak. Once his shades were on, he left the store with Razia on his arm, keeping his head held high. It wasn¡¯t as good for blocking out the sun, and he was more than used to slouching so he didn¡¯t stand half a head higher than the rest of the crowd. More and more, he was out and about in his city without hiding. It was terrifying.


    ¡°What is it you¡¯re afraid of?¡± Razia asked, as if reading his mind.


    Quentin stopped and let a family pass them by. One of the kids looked up at him slack-jawed. Setting his jaw, he ignored them and continued down the busy street. ¡°I don¡¯t know. People laughing at me? Being disgusted and pointing and whispering about me, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Why? Why does it matter? You won¡¯t see most of these people again.¡±


    Even expecting the question this time, Quentin didn¡¯t immediately have an answer. ¡°Because it still hurts. It¡¯s not just one weird look or muttering. It¡¯s every time it¡¯s happened, echoing in my head. It¡¯s something I¡¯ve carried with me all my life. It¡¯s a reminder of every time someone¡¯s given me shit. It doesn¡¯t fade.¡±


    Razia nodded in understanding. ¡°The past clings to you. So pretend. Pretend it doesn¡¯t. Pretend you¡¯re in charge and no one can hurt you. Anyone who sneers or laughs at you is beneath you because you¡¯re just so, so much better than them. Try that.¡±


    ¡°Because that¡¯s so easy,¡± Quentin muttered, but he was listening. Razia stopped them in the middle of one of the city¡¯s many small markets. She looked up at him with a challenging quirk of her brow. It seemed like she wasn¡¯t going to drop this, no matter how many bigger things they had to worry about. Quentin took a deep breath. Fine, he¡¯d play this game.


    He dragged her to one of the stalls, where a Ramali man eyeballed him suspiciously. Quentin ignored him and scanned the contents of his stall. It was a bunch of junk jewelry and accessories. Nothing truly impressive, no street stall would carry anything super valuable for fear of thieves, but they looked nice enough. Eyes flickering to Razia, he pointed to a bracelet that was two semicircles of pale green polished glass, held together by two metal clasps. ¡°How much?¡±


    The Ramali man made a face, but he didn¡¯t immediately tell Quentin to fuck off, the way others of his kind might have. ¡°One castura, five qala,¡± he said.


    Pretend. He had to pretend he was in charge. Quentin scoffed. ¡°For that? You trying to rob me in broad daylight? One castura.¡±


    The merchant sneered. ¡°Consider it a tax for having to handle shards you¡¯ve touched.¡±


    Immediately there was the familiar irritation and pain, added up to a pile of countless little incidents that needled Quentin throughout his life. But he was in charge. ¡°One castura, two qala,¡± he countered. ¡°You get your tax and I won¡¯t touch the money at all. That good enough for you?¡± At the merchant¡¯s pointed silence, Quentin sighed. ¡°Either that or I could greet you like a friend, for everyone to see. Maybe even touch you.¡±


    His eyes widened. Half the other merchants were Ramali who likely shared his superstition. Grimacing, he nodded. ¡°Fine. Sold.¡±


    Quentin opened his purse and motioned. Razia fished the shards out and set them down on the wooden counter. The merchant scooped them up quickly and motioned for them to go. Quentin took the bracelet and turned, dragging Razia with them. Once they were past that square, he undid the bracelet and held it out. ¡°Here,¡± he said.


    Razia held her hand up and he clasped it shut around her wrist. It was a bit loose, but the color matched her outfit well enough. It was the only piece of jewelry she wore outside of her piercings. ¡°Why, thank you,¡± she said, obviously pleased. ¡°That wasn¡¯t too bad, was it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not me,¡± Quentin mumbled.


    ¡°But it could be, if you wanted. We are what we do, aren¡¯t we?¡± Razia hugged his arm close, stroking it gently. He could¡¯ve argued the point but found he didn¡¯t want to. All it took was a little pretending, huh? Well, between being the Battlemaster and a disguised senator, he supposed Razia brought out the liar in him. It remained to be seen whether that was a good thing or not.


    The sun was nearly down by the time they got back home. Rather than go through the courtyard, they stuck to the service street that led to the front door of their new business. The door was wide open and Lucy was hanging up a simple oil lantern behind red glass. Razia insisted it would be more eye-catching than a normal light, and that the right people would know what it meant. Quentin trusted her enough not to argue.


    ¡°Oh wow, Mr. Q!¡± Lucy said, looking him up and down. ¡°You look really good!¡± Other than a tiny bit of swelling around her cheeks and some residual soreness, she looked as good as new, if not quite the same young woman she was. She was still pale, petite, and more cute than beautiful, but she carried herself differently now. More cautious.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Quentin, smiling at her. Of course she would say so. His girls seemed to like him well enough and while they didn¡¯t kiss his ass, they seemed free with praise and compliments. It was¡­nice, honestly, even if it still made him a little uncomfortable. ¡°You do too. How are you feeling? Nervous?¡±


    Lucy¡¯s smile faltered but didn¡¯t disappear. She leaned against the doorway, shrugging. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t be, but¡­¡±


    ¡°No one could blame you for being nervous after what happened,¡± Razia said gently. ¡°What¡¯s most important is making sure you¡¯re safe and comfortable. You don¡¯t have to work tonight if you¡¯re not ready.¡±


    Her pale face flushed red as she looked down. ¡°No no, it¡¯s fine. Gotta get back to it eventually, right?¡±


    Quentin frowned. Over the past month of spending time with the girls, they often talked while Quentin listened and occasionally chimed in. One thing they never really talked about was each of their reasons for going into prostitution. Not for the first time he wondered how someone like Lucy ended up where she did, and the temptation to ask hit him like an angry beetle. He clamped it down and instead took her hand.


    ¡°Eventually,¡± he said. ¡°For tonight why don¡¯t you work the door? Lure people in with your pretty face and the rest of the girls will pick them clean.¡±


    Lucy looked back up, smiling while Razia just laughed. ¡°Pick them clean? What are we, a bunch of gluttonfish?¡±


    They walked inside to find the rest of the girls in the atrium. The majority of them were relaxing on the couches, while Jenna paced back and forth, her footsteps squeaking occasionally on the tile. Quentin went around to the lone overstuffed chair that was to be his throne, of sorts. It was big enough for two people, but when he sat in it alone he looked so much more important. At least, that¡¯s what Razia told him. Image was everything in this business, and more and more he was doing his best to look the part.


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    Quentin threw his cloak over the back and sank into the plush cushions. Razia joined him, sitting sideways on the arm of the chair and leaning against him. ¡°You doing okay, Jenna?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re going to wear a hole in the floor.¡±


    Jenna made a frustrated sound. ¡°I know you said we could afford to charge more,¡± she said, ¡°but are you really, really sure? I mean, we used to charge like maybe a third of this when we were out on our own. What if they just walk out on us?¡±


    Razia nudged Quentin. He was in charge, he just had to pretend. ¡°Then they walk out on us,¡± said Quentin, shrugging. ¡°It¡¯ll be their loss and you go a little bit longer without having to pretend they¡¯re a world shatteringly good lover.¡±


    They all shared a good laugh. If there¡¯s one thing Quentin had been amused to find out after spending time among them, it was how many of their stories were all about stroking men¡¯s egos. Some of them got straight up absurd, and they made Quentin grateful that his own hang-ups stopped him from making an ass of himself the same way.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fiiiine,¡± Samantha waved it off. ¡°Back in the Silk Lounge, this is about double what most people would pay for me. If mercs and bounty hunters and thieves were willing to pay that there, we¡¯ll definitely find men who can afford us.¡±


    Razia chimed in with, ¡°And those prices are a suggestion. You¡¯re free to set your own price, that¡¯s just a baseline. We¡¯ve talked about this before, but I want to reiterate. If they just want a blowjob or something similar, it¡¯s not bad to accept less to get him off and out of here sooner. But if they want full service complete with cuddling and emotional validation, you know what you¡¯re worth and you shouldn¡¯t settle for any less.¡±


    Her words seemed to work. Jenna stopped her pacing and sat down next to Lynne. That reminded Quentin. ¡°Where¡¯s Isa?¡± he asked. Sure enough, Lynne¡¯s eyes narrowed at the mention of her name.


    ¡°Staying in her room,¡± said Lynne evenly. ¡°Said she wanted to focus and get ready without any distractions. I¡¯m not complaining. If she keeps biting my head off for existing, she¡¯s going to scare people off.¡±


    Samantha and Razia began talking at the same time before trailing off. It had been a source of argument over the past few days, but no real solution had been reached. In any group there were going to be some clashes, and they were lucky enough that this was the only real problem they faced. Jenna was laid back and took things as they came, Samantha was good natured to a fault, and Lucy was handling things better than Quentin would have, in her situation. Only Isa continued to try to hurt her, to punish her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll check on her,¡± Quentin said, surprising everyone, including himself. She tried to fight with him almost as much as she did with Lynne, but it was hard to take offense at it. Quentin recognized masking fear with anger when he saw it. He stood, and Razia slid down to take over his seat sideways. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled and put her hands behind her head, getting comfy.


    Quentin rapped on the door gently. A few seconds later Isa called out something that sounded vaguely annoyed. Well, at least he had the right door. Throwing caution to the wind, he opened the door and slipped inside. Each of them had decorated their rooms as they saw fit, and Isa¡¯s room was the first thing that really reminded him that she was Ramali. There was one of her people¡¯s traditional rugs on the ground, and hangings from the ceiling that made the inside almost feel like a luxurious tent. Isa herself sat at a vanity, applying makeup in front of the mirror. ¡°What is it?¡± she demanded, pressing her lips together on a thin cloth, blotting the excess paints off.


    ¡°Just checking on you,¡± said Quentin, as neutrally as possible. ¡°We¡¯re basically open for the night and I wanted to make sure you knew that.¡±


    ¡°So you can make as much money as possible?¡±


    ¡°So you can,¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°Are you okay though? You¡¯ve been different the past few days.¡±


    Isa turned around and stood up. She was nearly as tall as he was, though her raised sandals helped a lot with that. She was more dressed up than he¡¯d ever seen her before, and her sharp, angular features weren¡¯t sneering at him. For the first time, Quentin could truly appreciate her appeal. ¡°Have I started any fights? Yelled at anyone? Done anything wrong?¡±


    ¡°Outside of Lynne once, no,¡± said Quentin. ¡°And that¡¯s why we¡¯re worried. You¡¯ve been subdued. Are you nervous?¡±


    ¡°About what? This will be no different than the other places I¡¯ve worked,¡± she said with a sniff. ¡°The only difference is we¡¯re hoping for people of a higher quality. Which means you should really be watching out for Samantha and Jenna. If anyone is going to fuck it up with wealthier men by acting like street whores, it¡¯ll be one of those two.¡±


    There was the old Isa he knew. Quentin smiled, which always seemed to annoy her. ¡°Good to know. But I think Samantha¡¯s too attractive to put people off. Jenna though? I¡¯ll keep an eye out for her.¡± As far as he was concerned, that was good enough and he probably wouldn¡¯t need to worry about Isa. He turned to leave, but stopped. ¡°You look really good tonight,¡± he said, unsure of why he was bothering.


    To his surprise, Isa didn¡¯t scoff or sneer or tell him to fuck off. She looked as surprised as he did before she drew herself up. ¡°Of course I do,¡± she said. ¡°But so do you. Black and gold works for you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, surprised.


    When he returned to the atrium, the first customers of the night were there. A middle aged man and his son, who looked to be in his late teens. The father looked all around at all of the hanging plants and the tapestries hanging from the walls. The room was colorful, but there was a focus of green, a sign of luxury and liveliness in the desert. The son¡¯s eyes were firmly locked on the girls.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± said Razia, slipping out of Quentin¡¯s chair. ¡°Welcome to the Moonlit Garden. How may we best serve you?¡±


    The young man looked overjoyed just to be there. His father smiled at him knowingly before turning to Razia. ¡°I¡¯m here for my son, Jason.¡± He clasped Jason¡¯s shoulder roughly. ¡°He¡¯s never been with a woman before.¡±


    Almost like they¡¯d rehearsed it, the girls started talking all at once.


    ¡°Ooh, this one¡¯s mine.¡±


    ¡°Dibs!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I love virgins!¡±


    Quentin bit back some laughter. When the girls were at work, they were completely different people and it never ceased to amuse him. ¡°Looks like Jason¡¯s spoiled for options,¡± he said, stepping forward.


    The man saw Quentin and flinched. Quentin didn¡¯t hold it against him. He closed the distance and offered his hand. ¡°Mr. Q. I own the place. Your son will be in good hands here.¡±


    Like usual, his hand was stared at while the man debated whether or not to touch him. In the end he did, giving Quentin a quick shake before withdrawing. ¡°Stavos,¡± he said. He nudged Jason and said, ¡°Go mingle and figure out who you want.¡±


    By unspoken agreement, he and Quentin stepped away from the group. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before he remembered that he was supposed to be more social. Quentin wasn¡¯t fully sure of the character he was supposed to be, but it all started with pretending. ¡°What do you do, Stavos?¡± he asked. ¡°How did you find out about us?¡±


    ¡°Advocate,¡± he said, grateful to have something familiar to talk about. ¡°I work for the magistrate. Funny enough, that¡¯s how I heard about this place, this Moonlit Garden. We got complaints about you.¡± Quentin sighed, which made Stavos chuckle. ¡°Yeah. It got people talking, and here we are. Jason¡¯s just been approved for an apprenticeship. He wants to be an advocate too.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so it¡¯s a celebration as well as a deflowering,¡± said Quentin, nodding. ¡°You picked the right place. I can promise you that we¡¯re clean, discreet, and my girls are dedicated to performing.¡± And from the warm feeling in his chest, he realized he not only meant it, but he was proud of his girls.


    Over on the couches, Jason sat between Samantha and Lynne, with his arms around both and a big, stupid smile on his face. Samantha was talking animatedly, keeping her hand on his thigh while Lynne had hers on his chest. ¡°Looks like he has good taste,¡± said Quentin, nodding towards them.


    Stavos laughed. ¡°They¡¯re gonna overwhelm him. It¡¯ll be the best 30 seconds of his life. Any chance of getting a drink?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Tricia!¡± Quentin called out. Shortly after, Tricia came out of the kitchen, where she had been reading. After some discussion with her and Samantha, it was decided that she¡¯d work there, if not as a whore. Quentin was more than happy to have an excuse to give Tricia a job that paid and kept her close. Tricia stopped a few feet away, cocking her head to the side. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± Quentin asked.


    ¡°You got any good wines?¡±


    Quentin smirked. ¡°Depends. Cheap wine is free. The good stuff, it¡¯ll be added to your tab.¡±


    Stavos shrugged. ¡°To be expected. If I walk away with any shards left by the end of the night I¡¯ll be surprised.¡±


    ¡°Tricia, please bring Mr. Stavos here a cup of Salucci¡¯s. And one for me as well.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing.¡±


    This was something new, something unfamiliar about the job. In the past, Quentin largely just sat back and let people come to them and they made their choices. He was just there to bust heads if they got grabby and lay down the rules. Here, it seemed like he wasn¡¯t just a protector, he was a salesman. It wasn¡¯t just Razia¡¯s job to talk to people and make them comfortable anymore. Taking the cup of wine from the returning Tricia, he felt another odd surge of pride. Maybe he could do this.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s good,¡± Stavos said, smacking his lips. ¡°Might have to have a few while Jason has his fun.¡±


    ¡°No fun for you, then?¡± Quentin asked, taking a sip.


    ¡°I guess that depends, Mr. Q,¡± said Stavos. He pointed to Samantha and Lynne. Jason currently had his hand on one of Samantha¡¯s breasts and looked like he was going to overheat. ¡°What¡¯s this going to cost me?¡±


    The girls could set their own prices, but Samantha trusted him implicitly and Lynne didn¡¯t have much choice for the next while. They¡¯d discussed the various price points and options for hours - until Quentin was at the point of feeling his brains leaking out his ears. This was on him, to make the offer. ¡°That depends, Stavos. How much do you want to spoil your boy?¡±


    The man laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Oh boy. Let¡¯s say, a lot. He¡¯s my only child and he¡¯s worked his ass off this past year. He deserves the best. This is going to hurt, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    On the other side of the atrium, more guests showed up. Razia went forward to greet them, spreading her arms and linking them around the two mens¡¯ as she led them in. Quentin couldn¡¯t quite make out what they were saying, but he trusted her to handle it. Just like she trusted him. ¡°Here¡¯s my offer, Stavos. Because you¡¯re our first customer and your son deserves the best¡­Both girls for a few hours, a girl for you, and all the wine you can drink for two aquilos.¡±


    Stavos¡¯ eyes widened comically. Quentin almost immediately wanted to take it back. It was Razia who came up with the prices, and Quentin deferred to her expertise. It all still seemed like a lot to him, but it was all part of pretending. Seeing Stavos reconsidering, Quentin cleared his throat and added, ¡°If your son isn¡¯t perfectly satisfied, I¡¯ll knock five castura off. Call it a friendly wager that we¡¯re that good.¡±


    He considered it, taking another drink of wine. Maybe it was the wine that sold him, because Stavos sighed and shrugged. ¡°Fuck it. He only becomes a man once. It¡¯s bound to be better than my first time.¡±


    Quentin flashed him a grin. ¡°You both will limp away satisfied.¡± He left the man there and went for the couches. He motioned with his head for Samantha and Lynne to come with him. They got up, leaving a very disappointed looking teenage boy looking after them longingly.


    ¡°What¡¯s up Mr. Q?¡± Samantha asked.


    ¡°I made an offer to the boy¡¯s father. 2 aquilos for you two to double up on the kid for as long as he can keep going. That¡¯ll be four castura a piece after the house cut. That acceptable?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± said Lynne, smiling wryly. ¡°Teenagers can go for a while.¡± But she wasn¡¯t serious. ¡°Sounds good to me. Cheers to us, huh?¡±


    ¡°Cheers,¡± Quentin echoed. The two of them went back to the couch and pulled Jason to his feet. He looked happy enough with his choice more or less made for him. Quentin turned and saw Stavos was already talking up Jenna. One of the two newbies was gone, and the other was sitting next to Isa, talking animatedly while she had her ¡®I¡¯m tolerating this¡¯ look. Then he met Razia¡¯s gaze.


    She cocked her head to the side and Quentin shrugged. He realized after the fact that he had a big smile on his face, and some of the built up fears weren¡¯t there anymore. They could do this, and they¡¯d be way more successful than out on the town. He was happy. Of course, that¡¯s when the gods decided to ruin it for him.


    ¡°What a place you have here, Mr. Q,¡± an amused, almost smug voice said. Quentin turned to see Mr. Cicero standing there, flanked by two bodyguards. The king of the Orchrisan underworld spread his hands and said, almost apologetically, ¡°I think we¡¯re due for a talk.¡±

 Chapter 56: Opening Night Part 2

    Chapter 56: Opening Night Part 2


    ¡°Mr. Cicero, so good to see you!¡± Razia was absolutely not pleased to see him there. She hid it behind a smile, but beside her Quentin was frozen and grimacing, which meant he was uncomfortable, possibly seconds away from panic. She stepped forward, spreading her arms. Cicero¡¯s bodyguards stiffened but allowed her to embrace the crime lord and plant a kiss on each cheek.


    Cicero for his part looked amused. ¡°Ms. Rashid. Mr. Quintius. Or I should say, Mr. Q. You doubled down on her nonsense, have you?¡± The tone was jovial, but in her experience there was always more under the surface when dealing with men like him. They luxuriated in their power and control, even in the smallest interactions.


    Quentin worked his mouth silently for a second. ¡°You might say that,¡± he admitted, shoulders slumping defensively. Razia elbowed him and he stood up straight. ¡°What kind of talk do we need to have?¡±


    From the couches, Isa, Jenna, and Stavos watched with growing unease. At a look from Razia, Jenna turned back towards Stavos and whispered in his ear. That was enough to rip his attention away for now, but Isa watched on without bothering to try to hide it. The two newest customers looked as if they didn¡¯t recognize who it was, but were sharp enough to know he was a big deal.


    ¡°The private kind,¡± said Cicero. ¡°One wherein I let you know how disappointed I am in you and we try to reach some kind of accord before things get worse.¡±


    Quentin made a sound only Razia heard. His eyes darted to hers and she tilted her head. ¡°Then please, allow us to show you our garden and let these fine people enjoy their evening.¡± There was an art to making requests and showing submission without showing weakness. Cicero saw it and recognized it with a nod.


    ¡°After you, Ms. Rashid.¡±


    Razia gently dragged Quentin with her and led the way out the back. The garden was still new, but the plants there were at least alive and chosen for their appearance at night. The moon hung high, illuminating a sitting area in the center, surrounded by moonlit desert roses and lycanpoppies. Mr. Cicero took a seat on one of the curved benches and made himself comfortable. He graciously motioned for them to sit across from them. Razia did. Quentin remained standing, and the bodyguards kept their distance at the door. With the gate locked, there was nowhere for them to run anyway.


    ¡°So, how have we disappointed you Mr. Cicero?¡± Razia asked, putting her hands in her lap and embracing the low level of fear that he instilled. It was good to be wary of predators, but it wouldn¡¯t do to show fear. ¡°Surely you know whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t intentional.¡±


    ¡°I surely know no such thing,¡± Cicero said, snorting. ¡°I want you to imagine you¡¯re in my position for a moment. You¡¯re running half the underworld and everything is going smoothly. Most people know their place in the ecosystem and know better than to cause a fuss. And then some reckless, independent free agent ruins one of your better sources of income and information.


    ¡°No big deal, it happens. The apology is appropriate thanks to an unexpected new player.¡± He inclined his head at Quentin, though it was unclear if it was respectful or mocking. Maybe both. ¡°And then you put the matter behind you. Only to find out that said free agent and new player open a business that¡¯s almost identical to the one they ruined. They¡¯ve got some of the employees of that dead business, even. If you were in such a situation, what would you think is going on?¡±


    ¡°Well, when you put it like that,¡± said Razia, with a small laugh, ¡°no wonder you¡¯re unhappy. This is quite the unintentional insult, with a strong emphasis on unintentional. It seems we owe you a very big apology.¡±


    ¡°That would be a good start, yes.¡± Mr. Cicero¡¯s smile didn¡¯t reach his blank eyes.


    ¡°Then my apologies, Mr. Cicero,¡± Quentin spoke up. ¡°After our last meeting, Razia and Samantha put in extra work to repay the debt they owe me. It¡­attracted attention. Before long, there were other women who circled around me and before I knew it¡­¡±


    ¡°Before you knew it, you ended up owning a whorehouse,¡± Cicero finished for him. ¡°Whoops. Happens all the time, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Razia hated how unreadable he was. It was impossible to tell whether he was amused or angry, whether he was leading up to something or if this was their warning before setting his attack dogs on them. Quentin wasn¡¯t armed and they were, and Razia was only useful in a fight if no one was watching her closely. Rather than be surprised, Razia let out a sigh.


    ¡°We could apologize until we¡¯re blue in the face. Or until he¡¯s blue in the face anyway,¡± Razia nudged Quentin playfully. ¡°But that won¡¯t make things right. We all know you¡¯re a man who never does anything without intent. You must have something specific you want that brought you here. If you were just here to express your displeasure at us, you would¡¯ve just sent some men to deliver the message. What can we do to make things right, Mr. Cicero?¡±


    His smile faded. Cicero leaned back, looking at them while he stroked his short salt and pepper beard. ¡°Nothing happens in North Orchrisus without my knowledge, and if it does it happens without my consent.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying we should¡¯ve asked your permission before we did this?¡± Quentin blurted out.


    ¡°More like my blessing, considering the nature of your business.¡±


    Razia wasn¡¯t able to hold herself back all the way. ¡°So any kind of vice falls under your control? I thought you mostly focused on betting houses, fights, loans, and secrets.¡± Quentin¡¯s hand on her shoulder kept her from continuing.


    ¡°The latter is what this concerns. When you burned the Silk Lounge, I lost a great source of gossip and news on top of money. Luckily, there is a way that we can resolve this.¡±


    Quentin understood immediately and shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re not going to spy on our clients for you. We mean to run a legitimate business and offer up comfort and hospitality. We have no intention of becoming another Silk Lounge.¡±


    Razia really, really wished he had checked with her before responding. Mr. Cicero said nothing for several long, agonizing seconds. He looked over the two of them, considering them intently. There was life to his eyes now, a spark that struck Razia as dangerous. This wasn¡¯t going according to Mr. Cicero¡¯s desired script. ¡°Is there anything else we could potentially do to offer up a sufficient apology?¡±


    ¡°You could become one of my tributary businesses,¡± said Cicero. His tone hadn¡¯t changed. He still sounded conversational, even indulgent. ¡°In exchange for a modest fifteen percent of your take, you¡¯ll be considered to be working under me. A small formality, mostly to show the rest of the jackals around here that everything you do happens under my sufferance. A display that you two aren¡¯t spitting in my face and taking what¡¯s mine.¡±


    Quentin opened his mouth to speak. Razia elbowed him in the side. ¡°Could you give us a moment?¡± Razia asked sweetly.


    Mr. Cicero bowed his head. ¡°Of course,¡± he said, smile reappearing on his face. ¡°This is a big decision to make, and you don¡¯t want to jump into anything haphazardly and end up regretting it.¡±


    Razia dragged Quentin to the other side of the garden, behind a small sapling that would someday provide shade and fruit. In a low, sharp voice she hissed, ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°What am I doing?¡± Quentin scoffed. ¡°What are you doing? We didn¡¯t start this business just to roll over and give in to the first sign of a bully pushing us around.¡±


    She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Ever since Lucy¡¯s beating, Quentin had been one hundred percent committed to the role. While she worked out the finer details, it was Quentin¡¯s resolve that made things happen. Seeing him take a stand and have pride, well¡­She adored it but hated the timing. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first sign of a bully, this is Mr. Fucking Cicero.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Quentin looked over to Mr. Cicero, who was watching them intently as they spoke in hushed tones. ¡°He¡¯s rich, he¡¯s powerful, and he¡¯s not crazy. He wants a piece of us but he wouldn¡¯t go to war over something this small.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have to,¡± said Razia. ¡°That¡¯s the thing. All he would have to do is make it clear that we¡¯re on our own and he has nothing to do with us. He does that and some of the bigger sharks under him will come sniffing around for weaknesses. From there, they either rob us or try to take over and deliver the business to Cicero as a gift and in the end he gets what he wants and we become a cautionary tale. Do you want that?¡±


    Quentin made a face. ¡°Are you saying you want to roll over and become one of his tributaries? Just like that, after we¡¯ve worked our asses off on getting this place set up? I don¡¯t want to jump from being an¡­an executioner to a crime lord¡¯s underling.¡±


    ¡°It would be in name only!¡± Razia insisted. ¡°He said as much. He just wants the appearance of being in charge of us. I guarantee you he couldn¡¯t give half a shit about how the place is run so long as he gets a piece of it. You¡¯re strong Quentin, and I think you could beat anyone sent your way. But do you think you could beat them all? We¡¯re small fry. Us against him, there¡¯s no chance.¡±


    She hated how much the truth stung. It was never her dream to run someone else¡¯s business, or for them to take credit and prestige for her hard work. If she did, she might¡¯ve stuck around with Piro instead of burning him. Of all the times for Quentin to dig his heels in and decide that pride was more important than prudence¡­Hell, it was her of all people recommending they be cautious. Did that mean nothing?


    ¡°Look,¡± said Quentin, looking off at the guards and the room inside. ¡°We¡¯re still starting out, still growing. We¡¯re going to hire some extra help around here to defend the place. That should be enough, shouldn¡¯t it? We can politely decline, maybe offer him some shards and maybe a gift in the future. I don¡¯t know, you¡¯re good at that kind of thing.¡±


    He was right. Razia was absolutely the type of person to think of a way out of this without giving in or giving up. She was no stranger to dealing with powerful, stubborn men. The trick wasn¡¯t to give them what they wanted. It was to let them think they were getting what they wanted. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said. ¡°And I¡¯ve got an idea. Do you trust me?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do, Razia. We¡¯re partners, right?¡±


    His trust stabbed her in the heart and twisted. She put a big smile on her face. ¡°Then let me do the talking. We won¡¯t become his tributary. We¡¯ll stand on our own.¡±


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    Quentin flashed her a fierce grin. It made her feel terrible, but this was for their own good. He bowed and motioned for her to go first. Razia reached up and cupped his face before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. It wouldn¡¯t make up for what she was about to do, but maybe in the moment it would make him a little happier, a little braver, a little more unaware.


    ¡°Mr. Cicero,¡± Razia began as soon as they were back in the sitting area. ¡°We really appreciate you coming here tonight and being honest with us. We never intended to insult you or make you look weak, and we appreciate your patience with us. But we¡¯re not willing to put the Moonlit Garden under your name, even if just for appearances. We built this, we run it, and we¡¯re going to run a clean business no matter what.¡±


    Mr. Cicero¡¯s nose wrinkled. The dangerously neutral mask faltered and displeasure showed on his face. ¡°That¡¯s a pity,¡± he said, sighing. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re all going to be disappointed by this choice. Some of us more than others, but I respect the desire to stand, or fall, on your own.¡± He stood up.


    Razia stood as well, and smoothly continued, ¡°But you are very much an honored guest tonight. It would be our absolute pleasure to show you what we have to offer before you go.¡± She made eye contact with him and gave him a pointed look. ¡°We¡¯d like to show you a good time, on the house. Please, pick any of our girls and she¡¯ll show you the time of your life.¡±


    He understood immediately. He was no fool. ¡°Anyone who works here?¡± he asked. At her nod, his smile returned. ¡°Then I think, Ms. Rashid, it¡¯s time I see what makes you so confident and has your head held so much higher than every other whore I¡¯ve known.¡±


    Beside her, Quentin took a sharp breath. Before he could respond and ruin things, Razia bowed her head and said, ¡°It would be my pleasure, Mr. Cicero. And luckily, our master bedroom is open. If you¡¯ll follow me¡­¡± She turned around to shoot an apologetic look at Quentin, who was completely blindsided.


    Every time she took on a client these days, she thought about Quentin. She wondered if it was what was stopping him from making a move, or if it was something he¡¯d grow to resent, like so many men did. Seeing him now, he didn¡¯t look betrayed so much as surprised, and then resigned. He gave her a tentatively approving nod. Mr. Cicero stood up. Razia offered up her hand and he took it. She led him inside, past his guards who followed behind, with Quentin bringing up the rear.


    Stavos and Jenna were gone, off to their room for the foreseeable future. There was no way he¡¯d take as much time as they¡¯d promised to his son, but every happy customer was potential growth to the business. Isa looked up from the man she was speaking to, looking at her suspiciously. Lucy was sitting in the lap of a middle aged man, who was talking animatedly while she listened and nodded. Quentin could handle this without her, no problem.


    Mr. Cicero followed her to the room. He wasted no time in sitting on the bed, leaning back on his hands and looking at her appraisingly. Razia closed the door behind her, noting the guards had taken up position there without needing to be told. Chances are they were well trained in not listening to their boss, but a part of her still worried. Everything about what she was about to do wracked her nerves, but it was their only option.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start by seeing what you¡¯ve got,¡± Cicero said, smile growing.


    Razia smiled back and wasted no time in slowly sliding her top up and over her head, letting it drop on the floor. Cicero¡¯s eyes roamed over her body and a hint of life came to them. She didn¡¯t stop there, pulling her skirt down and stepping out of it. The panties were the last to go. She took a step forward, wondering if she¡¯d get a chance to soften him up, so to speak, before making her offer.


    ¡°That¡¯s close enough.¡± Mr. Cicero held up a hand, stopping her just a couple of feet away. His smile grew and he let out a low chuckle. ¡°You are exquisite, Ms. Rashid. If I wasn¡¯t the type of man to choose my vices carefully, I think I¡¯d be vulnerable to falling under your spell. But I¡¯m not. You wanted to speak to me privately, so speak. What¡¯s your counter offer?¡±


    It was then she understood. Razia was naked and he was clothed. She stood in front of him while he lounged on the bed. It was power and positioning. Well, the joke was on Cicero. Razia didn¡¯t feel the slightest bit vulnerable or powerless without her clothes. She crossed her arms under her breasts and was gratified to see his eyes flicker down. Maybe he wasn¡¯t entirely immune to her charms. Razia would take anything she could get.


    ¡°There¡¯s no changing Quentin¡¯s mind on giving you tribute. I think this is the first thing he¡¯s had that he can be proud of, and there¡¯s no way he¡¯s giving that up.¡±


    Once again he chuckled. ¡°And good for him. It¡¯s quite a departure from executing poor damned souls. Do you have any idea how many people he¡¯s killed, Ms. Rashid? How many lives he¡¯s ended over the course of his career?¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t concern me. I know who he is.¡±


    ¡°But he doesn¡¯t know who you are, does he?¡± Cicero leaned in closer, eyes sharp and shrewd. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know you¡¯re about to deal with me behind his back.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia sighed. ¡°He doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°A bit rich that a man who¡¯s killed over six hundred people thinks working for me is beneath him. What¡¯s your counter offer, Ms. Rashid?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she started, mental flinching at the number. She couldn¡¯t focus on that now. ¡°I can¡¯t give you all the gossip I hear. Not without Quentin finding out. What I can do is let you know whenever someone of interest comes in. Who they choose, how much time and money they spend, everything that doesn¡¯t take place behind closed doors.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Interesting.¡± Mr. Cicero considered it. ¡°Rather than give me real information to work with, you think to placate me with information I would have to piece together myself.¡±


    ¡°Something I¡¯m confident you enjoy doing,¡± she said, undaunted. ¡°The Silk Lounge will eventually recover and people will forget. You¡¯ll have that to collect information on all your mercs and thugs and thieves and keep them in line. You¡¯ve got your high end betting halls and high society events to keep you informed on the elites. What we have here is a location and price points guaranteed to lure in the middle class.


    ¡°Our first clients of the night are an advocate for the Magistrate and his son, soon to begin working with his father. I guarantee you they will be repeat customers. Let¡¯s say they make a habit of coming by every now and then. You¡¯ll know their movements, their spending habits, every dirty and nasty thing that gets them off. From there, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to lean on them if you can get something from them. All while we keep our hands clean, relatively speaking.¡±


    Mr. Cicero said nothing but the casual condescension and dismissal was gone from his face. He looked to be thinking about it, at least. Finally, he chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s not nothing, Ms. Rashid. Do you expect to have many clients who might interest me?¡±


    ¡°That depends,¡± Razia said, not bothering to hide the wicked smile on her face. ¡°If we¡¯re able to establish ourselves in peace, with no direct ties with you or anyone else unsavory and dangerous. My girls are the best around and we don¡¯t have any competition in the area. Most of our standing clients are salt of the earth people, but with the power of a few well spoken words here and there I have every reason to believe that we¡¯ll be flooded with men of influence and position who want discretion and hedonism in equal measure.¡±


    The corners of his lips twitched. ¡°Even when you¡¯re in the weaker position you¡¯re trying to get more out of me. So what, I not only leave you alone, leave that blaring insult open for everyone to see, but I help your business grow?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what you do, Mr. Cicero.¡± Razia took a chance. She moved forward, pushing gently on his chest. He allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed and Razia straddled his lap, putting her hands on his chest for balance. He didn¡¯t seem to mind the position much. ¡°We make a big show of being apologetic, we show you a good time, and when you leave, you speak highly of us. We¡¯re not an insult to you, we¡¯re well respected friends. Especially Mr. Q, who isn¡¯t a king like you, but is a baron, or a duke. You understand me?¡±


    ¡°Almost,¡± he grunted, shifting beneath her. He wasn¡¯t as careful about his vices as he said. Beneath her, he stiffened and Razia let more of her weight rest on him. Mr. Cicero reached up and cupped her breasts. Razia bit her lower lip, letting her eyelids flutter shut. Then he pushed her to the ground. Mr. Cicero raised up, straightening his clothes. ¡°What you say has merit, but you¡¯re not offering me enough. So here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go along with what you¡¯re saying. You won¡¯t be one of my businesses. You¡¯ll be respected friends. I assume you¡¯re doing this to build Quentin up to be a good figurehead while you run things from behind the scenes. And that suits me just fine. I respect the deception. You¡¯ll provide me with the information you said, I¡¯ll use my channels to suggest your whorehouse to people I want to keep tabs on. And I¡¯ll send an agent of mine to work here and collect information on their own. You won¡¯t have to pass me specific information on your clientele. They¡¯ll do it for you. All you¡¯ll have to do is close your eyes and let it happen. That¡¯s what women like you are best at, right?¡±


    It was impossible not to feel that sharp, hot spike of anger dig directly into her brain and make her want immediate satisfaction. Between the push and his condescension, he was practically demanding she respond. But that was the problem with power. She was naked and at his feet, and with a word he could bring their fledgeling empire down. This was a sharp reminder for her to know her place. Razia could either fight it, or¡­accept it. The trick was making powerful men think they were getting what they wanted.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she sighed, eyes dropping from his. ¡°You¡¯ll get information on who¡¯s coming and going and your spies, and Quentin and I can run the Moonlit Garden without interference or worry of coming under attack. I accept your terms.¡±


    Mr. Cicero had the gall to reach out and pat her cheek. ¡°Good girl. I knew you¡¯d see reason. Pity Mr. Q won¡¯t. I trust you¡¯ll be able to keep all of this from him, and keep him in line?¡±


    Guilt and disgust washed over Razia. It was the one thing she promised herself, after all Quentin did. She wouldn¡¯t lie to him, she wouldn¡¯t cheat him, she wouldn¡¯t let him down. The affection and respect she had for him was real, but this wasn¡¯t about disrespecting him. This was about knowing what men like Cicero were capable of and protecting Quentin. This was about protecting Samantha and Lucy and the rest of them. Wasn¡¯t that worth a small lie?


    ¡°What he doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him,¡± she said.


    ¡°Or you.¡± Mr. Cicero stood. ¡°Then we¡¯re agreed, and there¡¯s no reason for me to linger. You have a very lovely business, Ms. Rashid. I trust you to hold onto your end of the bargain. Expect to welcome in a new hire shortly. I can see myself out.¡±


    Razia¡¯s face flushed hot with anger but not shame. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Mr. Cicero. I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± She picked herself up and went to the door, opening it for him. He left and she followed out, naked and uncaring about it. With as little time as they spent in there, it would sell the illusion that she¡¯d done something to please him. As a bonus, it would distract Quentin from asking too many questions. Gods, she hated herself sometimes.


    Mr. Cicero stopped by Quentin just long enough to give him a respectful nod. ¡°It was lovely seeing you again, Mr. Q. My compliments on your business. May the Wanderer bless it and bring you untold riches.¡±


    Quentin looked surprised. His eyes darted over to Razia, and up and down before he tore them away and focused on Cicero. ¡°May the Whisperer share every secret she learns with you,¡± he said in response. That seemed to please him. He gave one last respectful nod before he and his two goons left the building. The rest of the room was empty, and they were left alone with the muffled sounds of moans and beds rocking against the walls behind closed doors.


    ¡°I did it,¡± said Razia as soon as Cicero was gone. ¡°I managed to placate him enough to leave us alone.¡±


    Quentin made a face. His eyes remained painfully locked on hers, unwilling to let them drift down. The poor, sweet, lovesick bastard. ¡°How the hell did you manage that?¡±


    Razia put a sweet smile on her face. She closed the distance, making it both easier and harder on him. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him in her best faux innocent impression. ¡°Because I¡¯m a witch and I can charm anyone I want. I convinced him to treat us not as people stepping on his toes, but distant, respected friends.¡±


    ¡°Once again, how?¡± Quentin grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her hands down. It still left them close enough to cloud his judgment.


    ¡°I promised him some freebies for his men on occasion,¡± she said smoothly. ¡°Every now and then one of his higher ups might come here and we¡¯ll pay the girls for their service. That¡¯s not such a high price for peace, is it?¡±


    Quentin made a face. ¡°The rules still apply. I won¡¯t tolerate any of them laying a finger on one of our girls, and they can still say no if they don¡¯t want to do it. No one will be forced to do anything.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Razia assured him. ¡°We¡¯ve got this, Quentin. You and me.¡± Razia didn¡¯t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. All she knew was that feeling like shit was a small price to pay to keep them safe. He never had to know. And if he did, well¡­He¡¯d understand and forgive her. Wouldn¡¯t he?

 Chapter 57: The New Girl

    Chapter 57: The New Girl


    One of the downsides of having all the girls living next door was that it meant Quentin could be disturbed at a moment¡¯s notice. After the better part of a decade of living in perfect quiet and solitude, having any of the half dozen women in his life burst through the garden doors and come looking for him was jarring. He was used to his days being spent reading or working out, and then at nightfall his public life would start, albeit with much less death these days. Now, Quentin could be sitting around trying to enjoy a simple lunch and anyone could walk in.


    On that day it was Lucy who came in. It wouldn¡¯t have been so bad if Quentin hadn¡¯t been lost in thought, and also sitting around in his underwear. When the young woman ran in he¡¯d been halfway to scooping oatmeal into his mouth and froze. Out of all of his girls, Lucy was probably the least jaded. She hadn¡¯t yet seen it all and gotten bitter, though the beating had definitely eaten at her. Still, rather than look him in the eye she froze as well, taking the sight in.


    Sighing, Quentin put his food aside and motioned for her to come closer. ¡°It¡¯s okay, come on in. What¡¯s going on, Lucy?¡± He was still mortified, but after that rough night talking to Razia, he was trying to deal with it. He couldn¡¯t keep running and hiding his entire life, and if nothing else Lucy was the least likely of them to really laugh at his body or be sickened by him.


    No, she had a flush on her face, probably from the same mild embarrassment Quentin felt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, this is a bad time isn¡¯t it? I should¡¯ve waited and --¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± Quentin assured her. ¡°I should really get dressed before coming out of my room. You girls are welcome in my home whenever you need me. That¡¯s why I gave you a key. What do you need?¡±


    Lucy pointed towards the garden. ¡°There¡¯s a girl at the house asking after you or Razia. She says she wants to join us here.¡±


    Oh. Razia had talked about hiring more people, but it was something they put off. If they were going to be a decent establishment they¡¯d need to be choosy about who they allowed to work under them. But Razia wasn¡¯t here. She was usually up before Quentin, and if she wasn¡¯t out there waiting for him, chances are she was at the house. But if Lucy was coming here¡­ ¡°Where¡¯s Razia?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°She¡¯s the one you want to look over new hires.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s gone,¡± Lucy said, smiling apologetically. ¡°She and Samantha went out to buy some groceries for the house, so I figured I¡¯d get you. Should I tell the new girl to come back later?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°No, that won¡¯t be necessary. Tell her I¡¯ll be over in a couple of minutes.¡± It would¡¯ve been easier to wait for Razia, but this was his job too. He was trying harder and harder to stand on his own until he could fake it well enough to pass. This was just another test. Besides, hadn¡¯t he proved to himself that he functioned just fine around women?


    Lucy nodded. ¡°No problem!¡± With one last lingering look at him, Lucy left. Quentin fought off a light shudder. He could almost hear Razia giggling in his ear, making jokes about how good he looked and could he pose for her? He snorted to himself. Yeah, right. He went to his room and got changed into some casual, comfortable clothes that wouldn¡¯t make him look rich or conceited, then he went next door.


    Blinking the sun out of his eyes he stepped into the atrium and found the girl waiting for him. She was a tanned woman of medium height, with short, spiky brown hair. She was bottom heavy but not fat, and wore clothes that flattered her body. More importantly than that, she looked at him with only a second¡¯s surprise before she smoothed it over and smiled at him.


    ¡°Mr. Q I presume?¡± she asked, head tilting to the side.


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± he said. ¡°You can call me Quentin. You¡¯re here about a job, Miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Kelli,¡± the woman said in a Carolasan drawl. ¡°With an I. Pleased to meet you, Quentin.¡± She thrust her hand forward, palm down as if she expected him to kiss it. Her entire body swayed like a playful kid who couldn¡¯t quite keep still. ¡°I¡¯d love to work here.¡±


    They weren¡¯t alone in the atrium. Isa sat with her legs tucked under her on one of the couches, and Jenna was peeking her head out from the kitchen. Quentin took Kelli with an I¡¯s hand and gave it a sideways shake. ¡°Then come with me and we¡¯ll see if you¡¯re a good fit for here.¡±


    He led her to the master bedroom. It was the only one not claimed by one of the girls, as they took the other 5 and Razia lived with him. It was still outfitted and served as Razia¡¯s room when she worked. Unlike the other rooms it lacked a personal touch and was decorated to be vaguely elegant and luxurious. It was perfect for an interview. Quentin sat down on the bed facing out. Kelli sat down right next to him, close enough that their knees were touching. He edged away from her.


    ¡°So, what makes you want to work here? You do realize what we do here, don¡¯t you?¡± Quentin smiled wryly.


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± said Kelli with a sharp laugh. ¡°You fuck people for money. And believe me, I¡¯m very good at fucking.¡± She put her hand on Quentin¡¯s thigh, her fingers touching where his tunic ended. She apparently misunderstood the nature of the interview. He couldn¡¯t blame her, considering how many other pimps seemed to require their girls fuck them on demand.


    ¡°Could you give me just one second?¡± Quentin brushed her hand away and rose. He left her there on the bed and returned to the atrium, closing the door behind him. He went over to Isa and said, ¡°I need your help.¡±


    Isa was taken aback. ¡°What for?¡± she demanded.


    Grimacing, Quentin said, ¡°I want you to be in there while I interview her.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Isa insisted, motioning with her hand for Quentin to get on with it. She could never make things easy on him.


    ¡°She has the wrong idea about things. She¡¯s been getting close and touching me. I think she¡¯s going to try to seduce me.¡±


    ¡°Most men would be jumping for joy,¡± said Isa, rolling her eyes. ¡°What, not interested in enjoying the perks of being the boss?¡±


    Quentin sighed, dragging his hand down his face. ¡°I¡¯m not most men. I¡¯ve made it clear that none of you will ever have to have sex with me. I meant it. I just want a normal interview and maybe she¡¯ll behave if you¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe,¡± Isa said with a growing, wicked smile, ¡°she¡¯ll think you want a threesome. Or to demonstrate on me while you watch.¡± She laughed at the look on his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s when I trust your winning personality to put a stop to that and keep her on track,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Look, I¡¯d have Razia here with me if I could, but all I have is you. You know the job better than I do. Will you help me?¡±


    ¡°Fiiiine.¡± Isa made a big show of forcing herself to her feet and motioned for Quentin to lead the way. When they got to the room, Kelli had the front of her shirt even lower, showing off her cleavage and her legs splayed out the side, almost invitingly. ¡°Keep your clothes on,¡± Isa barked as she sat down on one side of Kelli while Quentin took the other side.


    Kelli pulled her shirt up, shooting Isa a petulant look. ¡°None of that,¡± Isa said sharply. ¡°We¡¯re here to ask questions to see if you¡¯re good enough to work here. Keep your clothes on until we tell you to take them off. If you don¡¯t like it, leave.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Kelli, laughing nervously. ¡°You take it seriously around here.¡± She gave a wide shrug and relaxed on the bed. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±


    Isa caught Quentin¡¯s eye. He nodded. ¡°First of all, why here? What brought you here of all places?¡± It seemed as good a place as any to start.


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    Kelli bit her lip, silent at first. ¡°You know the Silk Lounge?¡± Both Isa and Quentin stiffened momentarily. ¡°Yeah,¡± Kelli laughed, ¡°that place. What a shit show, right? I didn¡¯t work there, but I had friends who did. When it closed down I went out with a friend and --¡±


    ¡°What was this friend¡¯s name?¡± Isa interrupted.


    ¡°Uh, Jasmine, why?¡± Kelli looked between the two of them. Isa relaxed and nodded. Quentin grunted for Kelli to continue. ¡°She was complaining about one of your girls, Razia I think. Said she ruined the place and they all had to stop working, but some of them got out and found something better. That¡¯d be here, I guess? Anyway, I figured if it pissed Jasmine off, it was worth looking into.¡±


    Isa snickered. At Quentin¡¯s look she just said, ¡°Jasmine¡¯s a bit of a bitch. Yes, I realize that¡¯s me saying that. So that explains the why, but what makes you think you¡¯re good enough to work here? We¡¯re not common street whores. We serve a higher quality of clientele and can¡¯t have some girl who¡¯s better off working a corner ruining it for the rest of us.¡±


    Color flooded Kelli¡¯s face. Her fingers fidgeted with the sheets on the bed, digging in like she wanted to hurt it. She didn¡¯t lose her cool though and just said, ¡°I¡¯m good at what I do. I¡¯ve never had any complaints about my services and I always leave them wanting more. I¡¯m beautiful, I¡¯m smart, I¡¯m tough, and I can handle any client no matter how fat or gross.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s nose wrinkled a bit. ¡°If we hire you, you¡¯ll be dealing with some powerful men. That means big egos and they¡¯re not going to take any shit. It means finding the proper balance between serving their needs and not letting yourself become a victim. This isn¡¯t the streets, and it¡¯s definitely not the Silk Lounge. Do you understand what I¡¯m saying?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± Kelli scoffed. ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody going to be treating me wrong. If they try, I¡¯ll knee them in the balls and get the hell outta there.¡±


    While Isa nodded approvingly, Quentin shook his head. ¡°No, it means finding a way to placate or sidestepping their demands if you can, and calling out for help if you can¡¯t. If you end up working here, you¡¯ll be well protected.¡±


    Isa made a face behind Kelli¡¯s back. She raised her eyebrow as if to say, ¡®mostly¡¯. Quentin fought back shame as Kelli looked up at him with hope. It was the first time she¡¯d seemed genuine and not carefully crafted to seem carefree. ¡°Do you mean that? Is it really safe here?¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°Yes. Above all, that¡¯s what we offer here. A safe place to work, provided you keep to the rules and can work well with others. Like I said, we¡¯re not the Silk Lounge.¡±


    ¡°That does means following the rules,¡± Isa continued for him, as harsh as he was gentle. ¡°If you work here you will arrive to work sober and freshly bathed. If you have any lovers, they¡¯re not allowed to be here at any time. You¡¯ll have a place to work and everything you need while you¡¯re here, and in return you¡¯ll pay half your earnings to the house.¡±


    Kelli¡¯s reaction was to immediately sputter. ¡°Half? Are you serious? How in the hell am I supposed to make anything if you get to take half? Why, the other people with houses are¡­¡±


    As she ranted, Quentin frowned at Isa. She just smiled and gestured that it was his turn. He could hardly complain about getting the help he asked for. He just sighed and held up a hand for silence. It was to her credit that Kelli fell quiet, though she radiated indignance.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to charge more while you¡¯re here, and you won¡¯t have any hidden costs piling up. You¡¯re sure to walk home with more money each night than you would on the street,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°Provided men actually want you,¡± Isa added helpfully. ¡°Between Samantha, me, and Razia, you¡¯ll have some competition. You could work here and still not get chosen. You willing to deal with that?¡±


    Quentin shot her an irritated look. Every night so far, they¡¯d all had at least two clients throughout the night. While the villa was big and luxurious, there were times when all of the rooms were taken up and there remained a client or two willing to wait for the girl of their choice to be available again. Another girl would only make it easier to rotate some of them out to rest between performances.


    Kelli narrowed her eyes at Isa. ¡°I bet I could get more men in a night than you could,¡± she shot back.


    ¡°Please,¡± Isa sniffed. ¡°My worst night is better than what you could handle.¡±


    Kelli turned on Quentin. ¡°Gimme one night to prove this bitch wrong. I¡¯m twice the woman she is, and --¡±


    Oh no. Isa¡¯s expression turned murderous. Quentin put his hand on Kelli¡¯s shoulder and said loudly, ¡°Why don¡¯t you go out and sit on the couch while Isa and I discuss this a bit further, okay?¡±


    She got to her feet, eyes narrowed suspiciously but she gave a nod that was almost respectful. ¡°Of course, Quentin,¡± she said, laying it on thick enough that even he noticed it. ¡°I look forward to working with you.¡± She didn¡¯t look at Isa as she left.


    Isa wasted no time in saying, ¡°I don¡¯t like her.¡± She stared at the bedroom door like she was trying to bore holes through it.


    Quentin gave her a crooked smile. ¡°You don¡¯t really like anyone, though.¡±


    Isa whirled on him. ¡°That¡¯s not true. I like Samantha and Lucy. Jenna is mostly fine. You¡¯ve shown yourself to be tolerable in small doses.¡±


    ¡°Tolerable? Wow, I¡¯ve come a long way,¡± said Quentin. ¡°What don¡¯t you like about her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s cocky,¡± Isa said instantly. ¡°She¡¯s smug, even. She acts like we should be thanking her for coming here instead of the other way around.¡±


    ¡°She might be right,¡± Quentin interjected with a shrug. ¡°You¡¯ve all been working really hard. Another girl could help ease some of the pressure.¡±


    ¡°And cut into our profits,¡± Isa countered. She brushed a lock of silky black hair out of her eyes. ¡°We could use more talent, but we can afford to be picky. We don¡¯t need to take in every random girl who thinks she deserves the best.¡±


    ¡°And are we the best?¡± said Quentin, fighting a smile. ¡°First I¡¯m tolerable and now our business is the best. That sounds dangerously close to complimentary, Isa. You¡¯re getting soft.¡±


    She just rolled her eyes at him. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, Killer,¡± she shot back. ¡°For someone who got rich off of murder, you seem to bend over backwards the moment a girl looks sad or scared.¡± Isa fluttered her eyelashes innocently. ¡°Do you mean that? Will I really be safe here?¡± she mimicked. ¡°Turned you into an instant sucker.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. Quentin took a deep breath and shrugged, smiling. ¡°And that¡¯s why I brought you in on this. You¡¯ve got a sharp eye and don¡¯t miss anything. You¡¯re naturally suspicious and good at seeing past beetleshit. I respect your opinion.¡±


    Isa worked her mouth but no sound came out. For once, she genuinely looked unsure of how to react or what to say. Quentin savored that moment, but wisely kept the smile from being too wide. Eventually Isa¡¯s gaze fell to her lap and she shrugged. ¡°Obviously,¡± she said. ¡°So let me repeat: I don¡¯t like her. I think you should turn her away.¡±


    ¡°I could,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°Not sure how I feel about her anyway. But I am, as you said, a sucker. What¡¯s the harm in giving her a trial run to see how she does?¡± He stood, and Isa did as well.


    ¡°You¡¯re the boss,¡± Isa sighed. ¡°But if things go sour with her, I¡¯ll be there to say I told you so.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡±


    When they returned to the Atrium, the other couches were full. Lucy and Lynne sat on one couch, while Kelli and Lucy sat together while Kelli was speaking animatedly. Razia was back as well, leaning against one of the pillars with her arms crossed over her chest, listening. Isa walked past all of them and went straight for her room, closing her door harder than she needed to.


    Spotting him, Razia came up next to Quentin. ¡°This our new girl, then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. She pressed in close and together they watched the girls from there. ¡°At least for a few days. See how she does. Isa doesn¡¯t like her.¡±


    ¡°Isa doesn¡¯t like anyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± said Quentin, smiling. ¡°She said I was tolerable.¡±


    Razia pushed away from him, mouth forming a surprised O. ¡°Did she now? You¡¯re moving up in the world Mr. Q. Looks like I might even have some competition.¡± She laughed at the incredulous look on his face.


    ¡°The new girl started out the interview getting all touchy-feeling. I think her plan was to fuck me for the job.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not unusual,¡± Razia said. ¡°I figured I¡¯d handle the new hires so you wouldn¡¯t have to worry about that.¡±


    ¡°What, you think they wouldn¡¯t try with you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they might,¡± Razia said innocently. ¡°But unlike you, I might take them up on it and see how they do. Even just seeing how they approach seduction is a good bet. It¡¯s a shame you¡¯re not interested.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Isa said. Said I wasn¡¯t making use of one of the perks of being the boss.¡± Quentin shook his head. ¡°I could be really sleazy if I wanted, couldn¡¯t I?¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°Maybe someone else could. I don¡¯t think you could. Unless you want to prove me wrong?¡± She arched a brow.


    Ah, there was another opportunity. All he had to do was reach out and grasp it. Quentin looked over at the girls chatting. Jenna let out an uproarious laugh at something Kelli said. Quentin got a terrible idea. ¡°You know, I think I¡¯m ready to prove you wrong.¡± He waited for her eyes to brighten before he continued, ¡°maybe I will test the new girl after all.¡±


    Razia laughed and shoved him. ¡°Ass.¡±


    Quentin just smiled and let himself enjoy the moment. Life was getting a little better all the time.


    End of Part 5: Growing Pains

 Chapter 58: The Object of My Affection

    Part 6: Tales From The Moonlit Garden


    Chapter 58: The Object Of My Affection


    Lynne didn¡¯t typically find most of what she did to be especially sexy. It may have been sex, but it was also very much work and personal enjoyment wasn¡¯t a priority. Every so often, she was pleasantly surprised and a session got under her skin and stayed with her, making her ache for hours on end afterwards. The grand opening of the Night Garden was the first time it had happened in a while, all thanks to her newest friend.


    ¡°You like that?¡± Samantha cooed, face twisted into playful, rapturous joy. The three of them were a sandwich: Lynne on the bottom, Jason laying between her legs with his head resting between her breasts, and Samantha on her knees, leaned over and wrapping her soft, enormous breasts around the teenager¡¯s hard cock. Lynne¡¯s hands ran over his chest and played with his nipples while she nibbled on his neck, panting and letting out moans that were at least partially real.


    This was round four, and it was almost certainly going to be the last round. Lynne and Samantha had double teamed the teenager and shown him everything they could think of over the past two hours. He fucked them both, they fucked each other while he watched and got hard again, repeat in varying positions and levels of passion. Jason didn¡¯t have much left in him and despite the look of anguished ecstasy on his face, he was about done.


    ¡°Come on baby, cum for me,¡± Samantha continued, hands cupping and squeezing her breasts as she ran them up and down his erection. ¡°Paint these fucking tits white baby!¡±


    Personally, Lynne didn¡¯t care for the dirty talk. It always seemed so awkward, so forced to her, but it was one of Samantha¡¯s many selling points. She could say it and sound like she meant it. Hell, it came out of her mouth with no hesitation, just eagerness. And it was enough. Jason¡¯s hips bucked uncontrollably and he let out a groan as he thrust up into her breasts and came. Samantha let out a moan and held him there, letting him spurt the last few dribbles of cum he had left. Even for a teenager, four rounds was enough to make it barely a trickle.


    It was enough to satiate. Samantha fell over on her side and snuggled up close to Lynne. Jason slid off of her, laying between the two of them as they all lay there, sticky and panting for breath. None of them said anything. They didn¡¯t have to. But Lynne craned her head to the side and met Samantha¡¯s gaze. She was easily the warmest person Lynne had ever met and nothing could ruin it. Not even bad dirty talk could lessen the slight flutter.


    ¡°That was incredible,¡± Jason said, eyes half closed as he lay there. ¡°I just¡­You two¡­Fuck.¡±


    ¡°We sure did!¡± Samantha chirped.


    Lynne laughed and let her hands go down to the teen¡¯s cock, cupping his balls. ¡°You got a round five in you, sweetie?¡± Gods, she hoped not.


    ¡°No no no,¡± Jason laughed weakly. ¡°Well, maybe. How long have I been in here? It feels like it¡¯s been all night.¡±


    A quick glance at the water clock told her it had been just about three hours. So much of their time had been spent laughing, joking, drinking wine, and putting on a show for Jason while he recharged. Now a good chunk of the night was expended and it was their turn to take a good break and recharge. Four castura for wearing out one client was a better deal than she could ever remember getting. ¡°A while,¡± said Lynne. ¡°It¡¯s approaching midnight.¡±


    ¡°Shiiit,¡± Jason let out a contented sigh. ¡°I bet dad¡¯s getting impatient.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± said Lynne, cracking a smile. ¡°He¡¯s not alone, I think. If he¡¯s waiting, it hasn¡¯t been for too long.¡± She gave his balls a gentle squeeze, rolling them around her hand. He stirred, but no more than that. That was that, then. Lynne let him go and raised up. Jason did as well, and then Samantha, all following her lead. ¡°But if you¡¯re worried, you can go check on him.¡±


    Jason grunted his assent. ¡°I will. Thank you two so much. That was incredible, something I¡¯ll never forget!¡± The good things about teenagers, Lynne reflected, was that it was still so new to them. Hell, this had been his first time and after three hours of intermittent fucking he was still blushing when he looked at them and remembered.


    ¡°It was our pleasure,¡± said Samantha, leaning over and kissing him on the lips. She didn¡¯t have to. Not after they were more or less done with the client and ready to usher him out. It was just Samantha, showing genuine affection afterwards, as if this was something she personally wanted and not just a business transaction. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll want to see us again?¡±


    The teenager wore a big, dopey grin. ¡°Absolutely. I¡¯m going to save up and come back here and do this all again.¡± He stood up, reaching for his clothes.


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± said Lynne, tugging him back down. Samantha wasn¡¯t the only one who could go the extra mile. It wouldn¡¯t kill her to show some more attention to keep him coming back for more. Besides, it was his first time. ¡°Let¡¯s get you cleaned up first. You don¡¯t want to go out there sticky and reeking of sex, do you?¡±


    ¡°I guess not,¡± Jason flushed, clearly not minding doing exactly that. Lynne bit back a smile. Teenage boys. She reached over to the table near the bed and grabbed the sponge, dunking it in the basin of water before slowly running it over his body. He sat there, eyes closing and enjoying himself a little while longer. It didn¡¯t take long to wipe the sweat and dried cum off of him. And then Samantha joined in, helping him put his clothes on. Jason didn¡¯t seem to mind the pampering.


    Lynne put on a silk robe and held it closed as she saw him out and whispered a quick message to Razia. They¡¯d earned a bit of a break, and both the room and the two women wouldn¡¯t be seeing any use for a little while. She came back to Samantha and collapsed onto the bed groaning. ¡°On a scale from 1-10, how sore are you?¡±


    Samantha had the sponge now and was cleaning herself. There was no dignified way of doing it, but she still managed to make it look less gross and more endearing. ¡°Tired, but not too sore. I kind of want a nap though,¡± she let out a pleasant burst of laughter before handing the sponge back to Lynne. She did the bare minimum to not feel gross before tossing the sponge on the floor. Samantha lay down beside her at an angle, their heads just barely touching.


    Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, just soaking in the aftermath and enjoying the relative quiet for a few minutes before they had to reapply their makeup and go back out there. Lynne had just about fallen into a small snooze when Samantha suddenly blurted out, ¡°I didn¡¯t cross any lines, did I?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lynne¡¯s eyes fluttered open. ¡°No. Why would you ask that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that, we¡¯re friends, but we¡¯ve never worked together before. Some people get weird after, you know? One time Isa and me worked a client together and as soon as we were alone she said she didn¡¯t want to do it again. I asked her if that meant my cunt tastes weird, but she didn¡¯t answer.¡±


    Lynne couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that. Any of that, really. You taste just fine, and I¡¯m okay. I¡¯m not usually one who likes working with other girls, but this was good. This was fun.¡± It was more than fun. Nothing about Jason did it for Lynne, but she was still a bit worked up. The fatigue won out over it, but she couldn¡¯t entirely ignore the little spark in her that burned low and slow.


    ¡°So you wouldn¡¯t mind doing it again?¡± Samantha pressed.


    ¡°No Sam, I wouldn¡¯t mind. I¡¯d like that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Because you¡¯re really pretty, and I like you.¡±


    Heat flooded Lynne¡¯s face. Was that like, or like? With Samantha it was impossible to tell at times and right now especially. Tonight¡¯s marathon session was ironically the first time in months that it hadn¡¯t felt like a chore. It was just fooling around with a friend and having fun, and there also happened to be a young man there. ¡°You¡¯re pretty too,¡± Lynne said. It felt silly, and such an understatement really, but¡­It was hard to find the words to what she was feeling.


    They lay together for another couple of minutes before Samantha sat up, sighing. She got dressed again and Lynne watched her closely, admiring the way she took her time and adjusted herself in her dress to look as flattering as possible. Even at her worst, Samantha didn¡¯t look bad. The messy, just fucked look was endearing on her.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Lynne said, coming up behind her. She was a good half a head taller than Samantha, and together they looked into the mirror. Samantha froze, brush halfway to her lips. ¡°Leave it like that. It looks messy and like you want it to be. Like you¡¯re dirty and know it and want people to see it.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh.¡± Samantha¡¯s eyes lit up and she put it down. She turned around and looked up at Lynne. ¡°Thanks! You should probably wash up though.¡± She motioned to Lynne¡¯s lips. ¡°It¡¯s smeared and you always look so elegant when you¡¯re made up.¡±


    Another flutter in her chest. Lynne swallowed it down, unsure why this kept happening. She just smiled and before she could say anything else, Samantha gave her a quick hug and returned to the main room, leaving Lynne alone with her thoughts. Staring at the door, Lynne let out a held breath. Work was work, but some things made it better.


    A week and a half later and the two hadn¡¯t worked together again, to Lynne¡¯s disappointment. After an explosive first night, they were separated. Some nights the clients came and went with such regularity that they didn¡¯t even get much chance to spend time together until after they closed for the night and were winding down before bed. During those times, there wasn¡¯t much energy for more than breaking down what they made, receiving their pay, and maybe grabbing a snack or a bath before bed.


    It was the first time Lynne had ever lived somewhere she worked, and that always threw her for a loop. Her and the others each had a room to themselves and shared the common area, all without needing to pay anything. Since it came out of their wages, everything they made was theirs and before too long Lynne was sitting on a decent nest egg. All in all, life was better than it had been under Darriq, even with Isa sniping at her every chance she got. It was a small price to pay for peace, safety, and prosperity.


    Which was why Lynne didn¡¯t understand why she was still unsatisfied. It wasn¡¯t like she was leaving anything or anyone behind. Back in Darriq¡¯s group, the other girls and her weren¡¯t friends so much as fellow prisoners doing their best to survive and stay on the pimp¡¯s good side. She hadn¡¯t been happy by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn¡¯t have this feeling of being perpetually unsatisfied. Without anything in particular to blame it on, Lynne buried it deep and just went on as normal.


    Sometimes that meant sitting in the main room, doing her best to look alluring but casually disinterested while the men and women who came in picked their favorite to take to a room. And on that particular night, it hadn¡¯t been her yet. On the other hand, Samantha was now on her third customer of the night before all of them had a go. Something that hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed by the other girls.


    ¡°Ugh, again?¡± Kelli groaned the moment Samantha disappeared into her room and the door clicked shut. ¡°Maybe now the rest of us will have a chance to make some shards, yeah?¡± She laughed, but no one joined her.


    Complaining to pass the time was nothing new. They all did it on occasion, and often it was little gripes about each other. Very few of them had anything bad to say about Samantha. Lynne found herself speaking before realizing. ¡°Not her fault men don¡¯t want you,¡± she said, staring Kelli down.


    That earned her a few snickers, but Kelli wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°Men want me just fine. Just hard to be seen when Miss I¡¯m-50%-Tits is in the room.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short,¡± Lynne said, smiling. ¡°You¡¯re 100% a tit.¡±


    ¡°Okay, enough,¡± said Razia, sighing from her curled up position in Quentin¡¯s chair. ¡°C¡¯mon now, you act like you¡¯ve never worked in a whorehouse before,¡± she aimed at Kelli. ¡°There¡¯s always going to be favorites. You just gotta deal with it and leave your ego at the door.¡±


    ¡°Or just leave,¡± Isa added, smirking at the woman.


    Kelli shrugged, flopping back in her seat. ¡°Naw, I¡¯m pretty happy where I am. And of course she¡¯s a favorite, doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t suck for the rest of us, right?¡± She looked between Isa and Lynne for support. She found none.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine being jealous of Sam,¡± Lynne continued. She wasn¡¯t sure how she felt about Kelli overall, but leaned towards permanently irritated. It was perhaps the one thing she and Isa could agree on. Samantha liked her instantly, of course, and Jenna didn¡¯t seem to mind her. There was no getting along with everyone at a job, but things were going swimmingly before now.


    ¡°It¡¯s not jealousy,¡± Kelli insisted. ¡°I¡¯ve got bills to pay. Unlike the rest of you, I don¡¯t get a handy place to live to cut down on my costs.¡±


    ¡°And for that, we take less of a cut. That was the deal. Unless you¡¯re unhappy with it now?¡± Razia tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch. For once, she wasn¡¯t smiling or even being playful.


    Kelli, for whatever else Lynne could say about her, wasn¡¯t stupid. She saw the room was against her and held up her hands in surrender. ¡°No, just¡­Just complaining. It¡¯s been a slow night, you know?¡±


    It was true. It was the first day of the week, and with Temple Day being before it, people were either too sated to show up or too tired from resuming work. The people who came were appreciative of their services and more likely to spend for an extended stay, but they weren¡¯t doing the same volume of clients as they did for the rest of the week. On nights like this, it was easy to get bored.


    ¡°Be grateful,¡± said Isa. ¡°It¡¯s more time you get to just sit around and try to impress us.¡±


    ¡°Shit, gimme a chance and I¡¯ll impress you all. Next customer that comes in, we¡¯ll work them over together. I¡¯ll show you what I¡¯m made of. How about it, Lynne?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Lynne frowned. ¡°Why me?¡±


    ¡°Well, I sure as fuck don¡¯t want to share with Isa,¡± said Kelli. Isa made a rude motion with her hands, and Lynne fought back a smile. ¡°And I don¡¯t think the queen of the house wants to work duos. So why not you? Opposite builds, give them everything they could want. You¡¯ve worked with other girls before, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Lynne shrugged, looking away. ¡°Here, only with Samantha.¡±


    That just egged her on. ¡°That makes you perfect. You can see how I stack up with the star slut of this place.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Lynne stood up and walked out of the room, out to the garden. It was either that or go off on Kelli, and that would¡¯ve been stupid. It¡¯s not like she said anything wrong or especially hurtful. Slut was the least of what they got called, and even called each other. But something about the way she said it needled at Lynne. Samantha deserved better than that.


    She stood out there for a couple of minutes, staring up at the stars and moon and enjoying the warm spring breeze when someone came up from behind her. Lynne had a bad feeling she knew exactly who it was and didn¡¯t bother turning around. From the courtyard, a night bird let out a few low trills. This was a moment of peace and she was going to drag it out as long as she could.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Kelli said, moving around so Lynne would have to see her. ¡°I don¡¯t mean anything by it. I¡¯m just cranky, and pissing and moaning is what we do, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, fine,¡± Lynne said, purposefully looking past her.


    Kelli put her hands on her hips. ¡°Jeeze, all of you have a stick up your ass, don¡¯t you? What¡¯s got you so bothered? You sweet on Sam or something?¡±


    Lynne¡¯s eyes dropped to Kelli¡¯s. That proved to be the worst thing to do, as the woman¡¯s face lit up with excitement. ¡°That¡¯s what it is, isn¡¯t it? Everyone¡¯s friends with her, but you¡¯re in looooove.¡±


    ¡°You know, no one here likes you,¡± Lynne said slowly, working through the seering fog in her brain. ¡°You would be doing everyone else a big favor if you just walked away and left.¡± Or just dropped dead.


    ¡°Hey hey hey,¡± Kelli grinned, holding her hands up again. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s a bad thing. It¡¯s kind of sweet. I mean, work a place like this, who else are you going to fall for? Sure as hell won¡¯t be the men who come here to grunt on top of you for a few seconds.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t entirely wrong, but that didn¡¯t make her any less of an annoying bitch. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go bother someone else? The more you talk, the closer I get to slapping the shit out of you.¡± Lynne bared her teeth. She wasn¡¯t one for violence, but it was sounding more and more attractive.


    Kelli¡¯s eyes widened, and so did her grin. ¡°Easy, there. If we¡¯re going to fight let¡¯s at least do it in front of the clients, maybe sell a few tickets.¡±


    In spite of herself, Lynne cracked a small smile. ¡°I¡¯d really, really rather not work with you. Please leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°Who would you work with if you had the choice?¡±


    ¡°No one.¡±


    ¡°No one but Samantha?¡± Kelli waggled her eyebrows.


    Lynne nearly snapped, but she counted to ten and focused on her breathing. Why was this even bothering her so much? It¡¯s not like being into Sam would be a bad thing. Hell, it seemed inevitable to fall a little bit in love with her. There was a reason why everyone could complain about each other, but the closest anyone had to a complaint about Sam was that she was a bit dim. Lynne felt that was unfair. It wasn¡¯t that she was dim, she just worked at a different speed and didn¡¯t have a mean bone in her body. Unlike --


    Shit, maybe she was into Samantha. The realization hit her and her shoulders slumped. ¡°No one but Samantha,¡± she said quietly. She looked up at Kelli, trying to bore a hole in her face with the power of her stare. ¡°Happy now?  Fuck off, new girl.¡±


    Kelli laughed and sat down on one of the stone benches instead. ¡°Quite happy, thanks. That¡¯s great, though! It makes sense why you¡¯d get so mad about me bitching about her. It¡¯s kinda cute, really.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have literally anything better to do?¡± Lynne sighed.


    ¡°Well, another client came in, but he was one of Isa¡¯s regulars, and even Lucy is sitting inside and not minding the door right now, so no. C¡¯mon, talk to me. Tell me what you like about her. I wanna hear it.¡± Kelli clapped her hands on her knees, looking like an overgrown, overexcited kid.


    A large part of Lynne wanted to just go back inside, maybe tell Razia she wasn¡¯t feeling well and to go back to her room for the night. At least until Kelli left. It would be so, so nice to get away from the loudmouth right now. But¡­What was the harm in talking about it? No one else knew about how Lynne felt. Lynne barely knew about how she felt. What was the harm? She could leave at any time.


    ¡°I like the fact that she doesn¡¯t complain about anyone,¡± Lynne said pointedly. ¡°The only person I¡¯ve ever heard her say anything negative about was her pimp back at the Silk Lounge. Even the customers who are disgusting or complete shitheads, she gets to know them and she talks about them as if they¡¯re her newest friend. She doesn¡¯t judge or hold things against people.¡± Unlike Lynne, who knew she held a grudge too easily.


    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic,¡± said Kelli. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s gorgeous, obviously.¡± That one was impossible for anyone to deny. Even Lynne, who didn¡¯t really look at other women that way couldn¡¯t help but be drawn to her. She herself was a beanpole. A kind person would call her slender and willowy. Samantha was short and curvy, and it made her look so inviting and appealing. Especially the way her cheeks would turn red and -- Lynne shook her head. ¡°Unlike most girls here, she doesn¡¯t need to do much to look appealing.¡± Once more, her pointed look was ignored by the other woman.


    ¡°And she¡¯s always excited to do things. Even doing our laundry in the courtyard, Sam takes it as a time to sing while she works.¡±


    ¡°Is she any good?¡±


    ¡°Fuck no, she¡¯s a terrible singer,¡± Lynne laughed fondly. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t stop her. She just goes for it because it makes her happy. I guess that¡¯s it, really. She¡¯s a happy person. And she just wants those around her to be happy as well.¡± And more than anything, she was everything Lynne wasn¡¯t. Not that she wished she could be the same, but they were night and day and it was hard not to feel self conscious around the redhead.


    ¡°What about you? Are you happy?¡± Kelli asked, laughter leaving her voice. It was a subtle thing, her calming down and needling Lynne less, but it was noticeable.


    Lynne just shrugged. ¡°As happy as I can be, I guess. I¡¯m making money, I have a couple of friends, and I¡¯m in a nice part of town. It beats being with Darriq.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the guy who fucked up Lucy, right? I heard Jenna talking about it when Lucy had her freakout the other night.¡±


    Irritation flashed hot before Lynne pushed it back down. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s him. My old pimp. He was exactly the kind of egocentric, controlling bastard you¡¯d think of when you think about pimps. He started shit with Mr. Q, so Mr. Q broke his arm and I joined up with them. Haven¡¯t looked back since.¡± Other than thinking about her betrayal constantly, and feeling the neverending weight of guilt crush her day by day, of course.


    ¡°Mr. Q did that?¡± Kelli scoffed. ¡°The man seems like a bit of a sap. One of those ugly motherfuckers who seems like an ornery dunewalla but is a big pushover.¡±


    Lynne smirked. ¡°When Lucy got fucked up by Darriq and his men, Mr. Q responded by beating the shit out of all of them. He then broke Darriq¡¯s other arm, and then ripped out Darriq¡¯s teeth. He¡¯s not soft. Except for Razia, I guess.¡±


    Kelli looked genuinely surprised. She looked back at the inside of the house thoughtfully. ¡°No shit? So he¡¯s big and dangerous but answers to Razia?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Lynne said, shrugging. As far as she was concerned, it was none of her business. Razia was sharp, knew how to work people and delivered enough to keep people mostly happy. That was good enough for her, and whatever thing the two of them had going on, it seemed to work for them. ¡°Any other questions?¡±


    ¡°Only a million,¡± Kelli laughed. ¡°But really, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll watch my mouth about Samantha. And I won¡¯t tell anyone that you¡¯re in loooove.¡±


    Lynne¡¯s face burned, but she refused to act weak in front of the new girl. ¡°Thanks.¡± She stood up, brushing her dress off and went back inside, not bothering to check and see if Kelli was following.


    Quentin was back from the kitchen with glasses and a bottle of wine for everyone. He, Razia, Lucy, and Jenna were playing cards. Wordlessly, Lynne sat down beside Jenna and watched silently as they played. Eventually Kelli came back in and sat next to Lucy, and immediately began whispering in her ear. Lucy shrugged her off and played a card on the table.


    And so it went for another half an hour or so until another client came in and Jenna went back to her room with him, and Samantha came out of hers. After seeing the man out with a kiss and a squeal as he grabbed her ass, she sat down next to Lynne. ¡°Miss me?¡± she said, beaming.


    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Lynne said, that ache inside her throbbing.


    The rest of the night didn¡¯t last much longer. After an hour without anyone coming in, Quentin called it for the night and divvied up everyone¡¯s pay. It was one of the first nights Lynne hadn¡¯t made any money, but she didn¡¯t have much reason to complain. There¡¯d be other nights, and hell, maybe she and Samantha could go out for the rest of the evening and grab a late dinner. Lynne made up her mind to ask her when Razia cleared her throat.


    ¡°So, tonight aside we¡¯ve been doing well. Really well. Well enough that we think it¡¯s time to seek out some more employees, maybe get a couple of guys working here as well.¡±


    She was met with dead silence. The girls looked around at each other, all of them more cautious than curious. Undeterred, Razia continued, ¡°The way I see it, things could get a little tight if we have too many people working, and not enough rooms. We were considering putting two beds to a room and -- ¡°


    ¡°Are you saying we double on rooms as we¡¯re working?¡± Isa¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°I refuse. There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m going to perform alongside anyone else like that. It¡¯s a hard enough job without having a distraction the entire time.¡±


    ¡°Relax, you won¡¯t have to,¡± said Quentin, putting his hand on Razia¡¯s shoulder. ¡°We were talking about rooming together for sleeping, or maybe just sharing the room with new employees. In exchange, you go back down to 30% being taken out of your pay.¡±


    Isa resolutely shook her head. ¡°Not happening. My room is my room. I¡¯ll walk before I share it.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Razia. ¡°You won¡¯t have to. You have first dibs and we¡¯re not going to try to change that. For anyone else considering it, we¡¯ll make it worth your while and you will still have first claim to your own room. We¡¯re not about to change that.¡±


    Jenna raised her hand. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind sharing. Not like I use my room for much more than work and sleeping anyway.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± said Razia, brightening up. ¡°Anyone else? No need to decide now.¡±


    Beside Lynne, Samantha sat up straight and called out, ¡°Me and Lynne could room together!¡±


    Lynne¡¯s heart skipped a beat. She looked down at Samantha, who had a guileless smile on her face. She was excited, truly happy about the idea. ¡°We already spend so much time together, might as well make a bit more money and make it easier on Roz and Mr. Q. What do you think?¡±


    All eyes turned to her. Kelli grinned at her knowingly, and it was all Lynne could do to not scowl at her and blush like a damned teenager. Instead, Lynne just shrugged and said, ¡°that could work. I wouldn¡¯t say no to more money.¡±


    Samantha threw her arms around Lynne and pulled her close. ¡°Roomies!¡± Without thinking about it, Lynne hugged her back, enjoying the closeness. It made her realize just how much more she wanted from her. Kelli could eat shit, but maybe she wasn¡¯t wrong. The more she thought about it, the more the idea of staying with Samantha made her warm and even happy. Even if they weren¡¯t together, it was something.


    ¡°Roomies,¡± Lynne said, smiling.

 Chapter 59: Lucys Problem

    Chapter 59: Lucy¡¯s Problem


    Lucy should¡¯ve been used to it by now, but the man¡¯s forceful kiss took her by surprise. They¡¯d no sooner closed the door before he grabbed Lucy by her wrists and pinned her against the wall. The kiss came a second later, fierce and hungry and demanding. Lucy made a muffled sound, opening her mouth for his tongue. She closed her eyes, kissing him back until he broke away for air. She panted, trembling in his grip.


    ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do that from the second I saw you,¡± the man, Jan, leered. He was bigger than her (not that it was a difficult feat) and a solid man. Lucy couldn¡¯t break from his grasp if she tried, and she knew better than to try. Clients preferred when a pretty young girl like her went along with what they wanted. They wanted something soft and innocent, something they could take and claim for their own. She didn¡¯t try to fight it anymore. Mostly.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± she said breathily. ¡°What else you want to do to me?¡± Lucy shifted in his grasp, leaning against the door and looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Her tongue darted out quickly to wet her lips.


    ¡°I wanna see you,¡± he said. ¡°All of you.¡±


    ¡°Well, a little hard to do with you pinning me like this,¡± Lucy said, sticking her tongue out. It turned into a playful pout. ¡°Unless you want to do it for me?¡±


    That was exactly the right thing to say. Jan pulled her by her wrists and pushed her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, legs splayed on either side. Her current clothes were more cute than elegant or revealing, and were made to be easy to take off. They all had their niche, their little way to show themselves off. Lucy¡¯s was to look clean and pure and act anything but. Jan pulled at her top, releasing her hands in order to pull it over her head.


    His eyes, clouded over with growing lust, roamed over her exposed breasts. Lucy didn¡¯t have to fake the way her body shuddered. He cupped one breast in his large hand, brushing up against her hard pink nipple. ¡°How old are you, Lucy?¡± he asked.


    ¡°18, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re about the same age as my daughter¡­¡± he growled.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time Lucy heard something like that. It had surprised and scared her, once upon a time. Now, she didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°What do you want to do to me¡­daddy?¡±


    Jan groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he grinned. He was all but salivating over her now. He captured her lips again and Lucy opened herself up to him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him down. He ground his hard cock against her and she moaned into his mouth. When she was able to detach herself, it wasn¡¯t so bad. She could just focus on the way it felt and not the way it made her feel.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Jan grunted, breaking apart again. ¡°I¡¯m going to fuck you, little girl.¡± He reached down and undid the rope tying his tunic closed. He pulled his underwear down and his cock bobbed in the air. Then he was between her legs again, pulling up her skirt and cupping her cunt. ¡°I¡¯m going to fuck you until you can¡¯t walk anymore.¡±


    ¡°Yes Daddy,¡± Lucy groaned.


    ¡°Say it again,¡± Jan demanded.


    ¡°Yes Daddy!¡±


    He flipped her over onto her stomach. That was fine. Lucy spread her legs for him as pulled her silk panties down and off and threw them on the floor. Jan got into position, and she could feel the head of his cock brushing up against her lips. She rubbed against him, mentally bracing for what was to come. Instead, he gathered up her wrists again and pulled them behind her back. Her eyes widened.


    ¡°Get off,¡± she said.


    ¡°No, baby, you¡¯re mine for the next hour. I¡¯m going to --¡±


    ¡°I said get off!¡± Lucy screamed, bucking and pulling away from him. His grip held true and she went nowhere, which just made her thrash around more violently. A wordless scream erupted from her throat and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the blows come when the men pounded her face and knocked her teeth out and -- The door burst open.


    The weight on her back was pulled off, but Lucy couldn¡¯t appreciate it. She balled up and covered her head, breathing in hard and fast, unable to get enough oxygen no matter how hard she tried. Lucy waited for attacks that never came, tears welling up in her eyes. All she wanted was to get away, but she couldn¡¯t move.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Lucy heard from behind her. ¡°What are you doing? I paid my time and --¡±


    ¡°Your time was over the moment she screamed for help,¡± she heard Quentin¡¯s quiet but forceful voice. ¡°You¡¯ll get your money back or can choose another girl if any will have you, but your time with Lucy is over now.¡±


    Tentatively, Lucy rolled over, blinking tears away. The scene was blurry, but Quentin stood in the doorway, blocking Jan from coming anywhere near her. She sat up, hugging her arms against her bare chest, heart hammering in her chest. She wasn¡¯t safe, not yet. Not with Jan looking past Quentin right into her face with something like hate in his eyes. That always happened, eventually, when Lucy couldn¡¯t perfectly be what they wanted her to be.


    ¡°Fuck that, I picked this one,¡± Jan insisted. ¡°I wasn¡¯t even doing anything bad to her. Get out of my way.¡± He tried to push Quentin, but the pimp¡¯s hand shot out and grabbed Jan by the front of his tunic. He shoved him away, sending him stumbling backwards. Lucy hopped to her feet and went to the door, peeking out from behind Quentin.


    ¡°You¡¯re done. You will leave now. Peacefully, while you can.¡±


    Jan recovered and straightened up with murder in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let a fucking moonkissed tell me what I can and can¡¯t do.¡± Everyone in the room could see the punch coming from a mile away. Jan wasn¡¯t subtle about the way he wound up his arm and swung. Quentin caught the first in his left hand and twisted. Jan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise before Quentin¡¯s other hand shot out and slapped him across the face.


    He stumbled back again, but this time Quentin followed through. As soon as Jan raised back up, Quentin backhanded him, sending him to the ground. All around the atrium, Kelli, Jenna, Tricia and two clients laughed. With a growl Jan scrambled to his feet. This time Quentin didn¡¯t let him get all of the way up before he lashed out with his foot, planting it on Jan¡¯s chest and sending him flying backwards into the pool underneath the skylight. Water splashed straight up and Kelli let out a surprised yelp as she and her client got wet.


    Lucy looked up sharply as Quentin turned around to face her again. It had taken her a while to realize he wasn¡¯t as harsh as he looked, and the scowl with furrowed brows was concern and not anger. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked.


    She nodded quickly, dropping her eyes in a sudden flood of shame. Jan sputtered in the pool, awkwardly climbing out of the pool as his tunic clung wet and heavy against his body. ¡°This is an outrage,¡± he bellowed. ¡°I¡¯m never coming back here again!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± Quentin yelled back. ¡°Get the fuck out of here and don¡¯t show your face here again unless you want me to break it.¡± To the other clients he pasted a smile on his face and said, ¡°treat them well and there won¡¯t be any problems, understand?¡±


    They nodded enthusiastically.


    Satisfied, Quentin came up to Lucy and ushered her into her room, closing the door behind them. He directed Lucy to the bed while he scooped her top off the floor and handed it to her. Wordlessly, Lucy took it from him and put it on. She was surprised when he looked away politely, as if he hadn¡¯t seen all of them naked at this point. Still, she appreciated it more than she could put into words. It was like she was more than just a pretty face and a warm body.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said in a tiny voice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it happened again.¡± The words weren¡¯t enough, but they were all she had.


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that,¡± said Quentin as he sat down on the bed next to her. He was close, but purposefully left a gap. She appreciated that too. ¡°I¡¯m worried about you. This is the third time in two weeks this has happened. I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re good to work yet.¡±


    Panic reared its ugly head for a moment, and Lucy nearly burst out crying again. The streets were dangerous, and if she was having trouble now how bad would it get when she freaked out without someone to come save her? Maria was gone now and couldn¡¯t help her. Losing the Moonlit Garden would ruin her. She swallowed it all down as best as she could. ¡°Are you going to kick me out?¡± she asked.


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    ¡°What? No, of course not,¡± Quentin scoffed. He put his hand on her knee and gave it an awkward pat. ¡°I¡¯m not doing this for the money. I don¡¯t give a damn about any of that. I could be retired now and live comfortably for quite some time. I¡¯m doing this because you girls need someone, and I like you. Of course I¡¯m not going to send you away.¡± He even sounded a bit offended.


    ¡°I want to work,¡± said Lucy. ¡°I want to earn my keep and stay with the others, but this keeps happening. Every time one of them grabs me or pins me down, I just¡­I go back to that night.¡± She didn¡¯t need to say which one.


    Quentin nodded in understanding. ¡°I know you do, Lucy. No one here doubts that. You work just as hard as any of them, and what happened to you was¡­It shouldn¡¯t have happened. I wouldn¡¯t blame you if you hated me for letting it happen.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate you,¡± said Lucy. ¡°I¡­Isa says you should never be allowed to forget it. Maybe that¡¯s true, but you weren¡¯t the one who did this to me. And you helped after.¡± She pointed to her face, smiling sadly. She was still getting used to the little differences, but Lucy didn¡¯t hate the way she looked now. She was still her underneath it all, but it was strange to look in the mirror and see someone who could be her sister or cousin staring back at her. Mostly, she didn¡¯t look so much like a child now. That alone was worth it.


    ¡°Isa¡¯s right about a lot of things,¡± said Quentin with a chuckle. ¡°But the point is, we¡¯re not kicking you out of here. You¡¯ve got a home with us as long as you need one. But we may need to use your room for business.¡±


    Lucy laughed. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not quitting, I just¡­How long is this going to keep happening?¡± That was the real question. It had been the better part of a month and these attacks still kept happening. Each time was like reliving that night over again, stopping before she felt any physical pain. The rest of it was too real for comfort.


    ¡°It could be a while,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve seen people who¡¯ve had to deal with being beaten like that. It changes you. I¡¯ve been on the receiving end myself. Once, when I was about seventeen, I got jumped and they really worked me over. Beat me until I could barely breathe through the pain and left me for dead in a dark alley.¡±


    She tried to picture it, but couldn¡¯t. The first time she¡¯d ever seen him was the night he got Isa away from a rough group, and he¡¯d seemed unstoppable. ¡°How did you get over it?¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°Time, mostly. It took a couple years, and in that time I focused on making sure I always paid attention to where I was going. It took me a year to go back to the place where it happened, but I did and stood there for an hour, waiting to see if anyone would start something. No one did. After that, it got a little easier, and eventually faded away. Now all I¡¯m left with is some paranoia and a sharp eye for trouble.¡±


    Years. Lucy didn¡¯t even know where she¡¯d be in a couple of years. Would she still be doing this? Would she find something better to do with herself, something that was safer and didn¡¯t involve people pawing at her constantly? She hugged her chest, slouching on the bed as she thought about it. Who knows if there was anything left for her? Lucy didn¡¯t hate what she did, but sometimes it made her feel dirty. Soiled.


    Quentin wasn¡¯t blind, and after a few seconds of silence he said, ¡°Can I ask you something personal?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± said Lucy.


    ¡°You¡¯re young. About as young as Razia would allow to work here, but you¡¯ve been doing this for a while. When did you start? Why did you start? It doesn¡¯t seem like something you would do on your own.¡±


    Ah, that question. It was something Lucy didn¡¯t like to think about, or else she¡¯d spend hours ruminating on it and it would just lead to a dark mood and either too much wine or making more of the same mistakes that got her here in the first place. Still, even if Quentin wouldn¡¯t understand her story, he wouldn¡¯t judge her for it.


    ¡°My parents died when I was young,¡± said Lucy, wetting her lips. ¡°I was twelve. Murdered by a debt collector. He wanted to take me as a slave to pay off their debts for him.¡± Beside her, Quentin¡¯s head shot around and he didn¡¯t bother to hide the outrage. Lucy just laughed. ¡°Yeah, a bit of a rough start, right? Well, my neighbor got the courts involved and took me in. Said they¡¯d watch out for me if I helped out around the house. Helped watch their kid.


    ¡°And you know, that¡¯s fine, right? Around the neighborhood I grew up in, there were a lot of little kids, and they liked me. I was good at wrangling them and getting them to do what I wanted without having to yell or be mean. So when my parents died, getting by as a live-in nanny wasn¡¯t the worst thing that I could do. I was still little then, but kids that age find jobs all the time and this one suited me.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Lucy laughed bitterly. ¡°Puberty. By the time I was sixteen, I wasn¡¯t just a kid anymore. I was helping with a bunch of neighbors¡¯ kids and getting a few qala here and there for my troubles. But at that point, I started catching the eyes of the kids¡¯ fathers.¡±


    Quentin grunted in understanding, looking down at the floor. She appreciated it. It was hard enough to tell this story without him looking directly at her, judging or worse pitying her. At this point it was always a toss up to say exactly how bad it got or to just glaze over it and trust they understood. If she wasn¡¯t still feeling on edge, she might have told him everything.


    ¡°They started offering me things. Little gifts, some money, some jewelry. All I had to do was stay longer, after the kids were in bed. Or come over when the wife was out having a bath or spending time with friends. I didn¡¯t want to at first, but they just sort of¡­Kept on.¡± Lucy took a deep breath, begging her heart to slow down. ¡°Eventually I got tired of saying no. After that, it got harder and harder to say it. That was when I was seventeen. After that, I figured this is what people wanted from me. Why bother fighting it?¡±


    Maybe it was wrong to have gone to the flesh sculptors, she thought to herself. Maybe it would¡¯ve been easier to heal normally. If she was ugly and missing teeth, at least people would stop bothering her and trying to get her to give them everything she had. They just took and took and took and¡­Lucy released her elbows, only barely aware of how tightly she was gripping herself.


    ¡°If you had your choice,¡± said Quentin, breaking the silence that settled in, ¡°what would you do with yourself?¡±


    What would she do? Lucy just shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I like kids, and I was good at taking care of them. I could see myself doing that for a while, if it wasn¡¯t for grabby dads.¡±


    Quentin nodded. He mulled things over for a few minutes of comfortable, companionable silence. Lucy didn¡¯t think she was in danger anymore. Not from specters of the past or fear of the future. If Quentin said he wouldn¡¯t throw her out, then it was as simple as that. He was safe. Or so she thought, until he finally spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t think I want you working on your back anymore.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? I promise I¡¯ll be better!¡± Lucy looked at him sharply.


    He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not about that. You¡¯ve been doing this for two years without a break, right? And you never meant to do this in the first place, right?¡± At her nod, he continued. ¡°Then don¡¯t. We¡¯re going to be hiring more girls and a couple of guys, maybe, and soon there will be more than enough work to go around. What we don¡¯t have enough of are support staff. Tricia gets drinks and cleans up a bit, but she could use some help, and we could use a permanent greeter.


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty, you¡¯re sweet, and maybe some really shitty men have wanted to use you, but it¡¯s easy to feel protective of you.¡± He gave her a crooked smile. ¡°Instead of putting yourself in a position to be affected if they turn out to be shitheads, you could be our eyes and ears up front and make sure people know the rules coming in. If they give you any trouble, I or one of our future security hires will be there to help. You¡¯ll still help us, and you¡¯ll have time for yourself. Time where you¡¯re not expected to perform anything for anyone.¡±


    It sounded¡­Too good to be true. ¡°You¡¯d really do that for me?¡± Lucy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d do it for any of you if you needed it. Except for maybe Kelli,¡± he said, making a face. ¡°Not sure how I feel about her yet. But you can do that until we can find you a job taking care of children or you find out what you really want to do with your life.¡±


    He was serious. And if he said so, Razia would probably agree with him and not pressure her into doing anything she didn¡¯t want to. Some of this was stuff Razia had even said in the past that Lucy just shrugged off. She hadn¡¯t been ready to hear it then, but she was ready for it now. Without warning Lucy threw her arms around Quentin. He stiffened for a second before hugging her back with one arm.


    ¡°Thank you Mr. Q,¡± she said.


    He sighed. ¡°You can call me Quentin, you know. I¡¯ve never once asked anyone to call me Mr. Q.¡± he squeezed her one more time before releasing her. ¡°Take all the time you need to get your head on, and then come on out and be a greeter. We¡¯ll figure out how much you make a night later, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Lucy, smiling. After he left, she did take some time to herself. If nothing else, she wasn¡¯t going to leave the room until her heart slowed down to a reasonable speed and the shakes left her.  It gave her plenty of time to think about what Quentin said. What did she want to do? After giving in and becoming a whore, there hadn¡¯t been much reason to look to the future. When you didn¡¯t have anyone, it was hard to look past the next few days and you just tried to keep on moving on.


    That wasn¡¯t the case anymore. If he wasn¡¯t lying to her, and Lucy had no reason to believe he was, she would have time and a group of friends that wouldn¡¯t demand anything of her. People who wanted her around without wanting something from her. It was hard to trust, but that last little nugget of innocence still in her still had hope.


    There were three short raps on the door before it opened. In slipped Kelli, closing the door behind her. ¡°I can¡¯t believe some of these assholes, can you?¡± She said, rolling her eyes. Sitting down next to Lucy, she threw an arm around her shoulders. ¡°I heard about what happened to you. I just wanna say, you¡¯re so brave for still going.¡±


    Lucy¡¯s cheeks heated up. This wasn¡¯t the best time to admit that she was being pulled off active duty. So she just shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been there before. Maybe not as bad as you, but I¡¯m no stranger to being slapped around. We girls gotta stick together. Not like the men will.¡±


    ¡°Quentin¡¯s not like that,¡± Lucy frowned.


    Kelli fell silent for a second. Lucy fully expected her to be pushy and say exactly why he was like that. The brunette was pushy and opinionated, she knew that at least, but she was surprised when instead Kelli slumped over.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I keep hearing, but¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I do know,¡± said Lucy resolutely. ¡°He and Razia are good to us. They get us into trouble sometimes, but they get us out of it too.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kelli¡¯s eyes glittered with interest. ¡°Can I ask you a few questions about them?¡±

 Chapter 60: One Big Happy Family

    Chapter 60: One Big Happy Family


    Samantha wasn¡¯t unaware of what people thought of her. For the most part, it was largely positive and she took pride in her reputation. Everyone knew her as the sweet, innocent one. A bit dim, maybe, but always kind and bright and cheery. Even when she missed some things and others laughed at her, she didn¡¯t let her get it down. Why would she? Samantha was genuinely a happy person, and she had plenty of friends. What more could anyone ask for?


    ¡°Thanks for coming again,¡± Samantha said as she and Razia pushed their way past the midday crowd. The streets were busy that day and she and the other girls were taking a much needed break for the. After operating for nearly two weeks, it was agreed they should have at least one day off a week where no one worked and the house was closed for the night. It was an obvious choice to make it the day of worship, when business was at its worst anyways.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Razia as they turned the corner off one of the bigger streets and into one of many small neighborhoods crammed together. ¡°I know you¡¯ve been meaning to visit the kids more and I¡¯m happy to come along. Have you been balancing everything okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Samantha echoed brightly. ¡°It¡¯s been a bit tiring, but it¡¯s been easy to split my days and nights. A bit of taking care of family, a nice meal and a nap, and then work at night. Easy peasy!¡± It was exhausting, but it was a rare night that Samantha went to bed feeling unsatisfied and unhappy with her lot in life. ¡°Sorry it¡¯s not going to be more exciting. After a couple weeks working the Garden, you must want to do something fun.¡±


    But Razia just shook her head, smiling. ¡°This is fun. I like seeing you in your natural habitat, barking orders and taking no shit.¡±


    The two of them laughed together, leaning on each other for support. No one who dealt with Samantha for any amount of time could picture her raising her voice, let alone demanding anything of anyone. There were a lot of things people didn¡¯t expect from Samantha, and that was their loss. They came up to a nondescript clay house tucked away in the corner of the neighborhood and Samantha led the way inside.


    ¡°Saaaaam!¡± Little Lana looked up from her spot on the floor and called out, face lighting up. She jumped up and threw herself into Samantha¡¯s waiting arms.


    Samantha lifted her little sister up and swung her around in a circle, laughing along with the child. At 7 years old, Lana was her youngest sibling, and the one who needed her the most. It didn¡¯t matter that Samantha had been there just a few days before, the fact that she didn¡¯t live at home with the rest of them made her in some ways both family and a stranger.


    ¡°How have you been, kiddo? You listening to Jack and Tricia?¡±


    ¡°Yeeees,¡± Lana said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.


    ¡°Hey, no attitude from you,¡± Sam said as she put her back down on the ground. ¡°You¡¯re the nice one, don¡¯t let the others corrupt you.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s been mostly fine,¡± Jack said, coming out from the kitchen. ¡°Hey Razia,¡± he said, face turning a bit red.


    All at once the small, unassuming house was swarming with children. In addition to Jack (15) and Lana (7), there was also (in descending order) Tess (14), Tricia (also 14), Millie (13), Stephen (11), and David (9). They all dropped what they were doing to come out and greet her. It was something that always made her feel equal parts great and guilty. She opened her arms and they all rushed in to join for the big family hug.


    ¡°I missed you all so much!¡± said Samantha, squeezing them against her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it¡¯s been a couple of days. Work has been SO busy. Are you all hungry?¡± The answer was a resounding yes as each of them started talking over each other.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been making sure they at least get some bread and soup in them each night and --¡±


    ¡°Could we have something new for dinner? I don¡¯t want --¡±


    ¡°Stephen¡¯s been being mean to me, could you get him to --¡±


    Razia looked at Samantha with amusement and a small amount of alarm. Samantha just shook her head, smiling and feeling right at home. She let it go on for another few seconds before she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp, blaring whistle. The children all fell silent. Pride surged through Samantha as she looked at all their eagerly expectant faces.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start from the top,¡± she said, pointing at Jack.


    Jack cleared his throat and straightened up. He was nearly an adult now and usually didn¡¯t care for being bossed around, but since he was second in command this was his time to shine. ¡°Everything¡¯s been good! Mostly. I¡¯ve made sure the kids are washing up and get fed at night and in the mornings. Middle of the day, they¡¯re on their own.¡±


    Razia nodded approvingly, but Samantha shook her head. ¡°Are you not keeping track of them throughout the day?¡±


    Jack scowled. ¡°You try keeping up with Millie and Stephen! I¡¯ve got my hands full making sure Lana and David are okay when you¡¯re not around.¡±


    Not for the first time, the pressure of having to take care of so many kids threatened to crush Samantha. Guilt whispered in her ear that she wasn¡¯t here enough, wasn¡¯t doing enough to make sure they were happy and healthy. She stomped it down, focusing instead on the positives. Smiling she said, ¡°I¡¯m proud of you for making sure Lana and David are looked after.¡± Jack¡¯s scowl turned into a relieved smile.


    ¡°How about you two?¡± She asked the youngest of her siblings. ¡°You been listening to Jack? You¡¯ve been studying your letters and numbers?¡±


    David made a face and Lana rolled her eyes. She was going to be trouble in a few years, Samantha just knew it. ¡°Yes mom,¡± said Lana with a long suffering sigh. ¡°Yesterday Jack made us write out our names and everyone elses¡¯ names like a bajillion times.¡±


    Razia snickered and spoke up, ¡°Does that mean you¡¯re good at reading and spelling now? Think you could spell my name? Try it: Razia.¡±


    David mouthed the name, screwing up his face in concentration. All around, the order Samantha demanded slowly started to crumble. The other kids shifted in place as David gave an attempt. ¡°Ar, Eh, Zee, Why, Ee, Eh?¡±


    The islander shook her head, sucking on her teeth theatrically. ¡°So close. But you¡¯re getting there. Good job anyway!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me.¡± David sulked.


    ¡°What about you two?¡± Samantha pointed towards Millie and Stephen. ¡°What¡¯ve you been doing with your days?¡±


    Stephen spoke up brightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been running messages between people in the neighborhood for shards. I made a whole castura this last week!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve hung out with friends and played,¡± Millie shrugged.


    Samantha was proud of both of them just the same. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic, Stephen. It¡¯s never too early to begin thinking about making some extra money to help when things are tight. And spending time with friends is good too!¡± She flashed Razia another grateful smile, but her friend just shrugged with a smile of her own. She looked happy enough to be there, even though it was work all on its own.


    ¡°And you two?¡± Samantha nodded at Tess and Tricia, who were standing together fairly closely. As far as Samantha could tell, they¡¯d become fast friends. It was exactly what she hoped would happen, and made her optimistic about the future. If all they had was each other, then they were better off than most in Orchrisus. So long as they all looked out for each other, the worst of the world couldn¡¯t touch them. Not in any way that mattered. ¡°You settling in okay, Trish?¡±


    Tricia smiled, but it was bittersweet. ¡°I miss my mom,¡± she said. ¡°But so do all of you, right?¡±


    All the kids muttered their agreements. Most of them shared the same mother, and her loss was still fairly fresh and painful. Samantha¡¯s own mother died before her father met their mother and they had the rest of the family. Some pains never truly faded, but it helped to be surrounded by people who understood and cared. ¡°So I¡¯m surviving, yeah?¡± Tricia shrugged.


    Tess spoke up. In some ways she was the most like Samantha, always looking on the brighter side of things though she was a lot quieter and less boisterous. ¡°We¡¯ve been making big plans. We¡¯re going to open a school and make sure all the neighborhood kids learn their letters and numbers and do well. There¡¯s no excuse to not be able to read in this day and age!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a really good idea,¡± Razia said, beaming. ¡°We¡¯ll have to make sure to get you girls some more books. Can¡¯t have a school without books to learn from, right?¡±


    Inwardly, Samantha cringed a little. ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can afford first,¡± she said. ¡°We might be able to get you a new book every couple of weeks.¡±


    ¡°Or we could ask Quentin to donate some of his old books,¡± Razia countered. ¡°He¡¯d be happy to know others are using them.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later,¡± said Samantha, face heating up. She was insanely grateful to Quentin, and Razia too for that matter, for getting them out of the crippling debt they¡¯d been in. Mr. Cicero had a lot of people indebted towards him, and getting out from under that freed them up to have a better future. That didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t still in debt, and as grateful as Samantha was, she didn¡¯t want to press her luck with Mr. Q. There was kindness and generosity, and then there was asking for too much. Even Samantha could recognize that.


    ¡°But more importantly¡­Everyone¡¯s good and hungry?¡± She looked around eagerly. Just as she expected, all of the kids started talking all at once again. Everyone, it seemed, was good and hungry. Of course they were. Samantha cooked dinner when she could and made sure there was enough bread and fruit so that their bellies were never empty, but when she couldn¡¯t come by for a couple of days, they were always ravenous.


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    ¡°Then I guess you all better get cleaned up,¡± said Samantha brightly. She lifted her purse and jingled the shards inside. ¡°We¡¯re going out tonight!¡±


    Half of the kids let out the scream that all kids seemed inclined to do when they didn¡¯t have the words to describe their excitement. Stephen punched the air while Lana and Millie did a little dance in place. Tess whispered something in Tricia¡¯s ear, making her eyes light up. Jack was the only one who didn¡¯t lose his head, but he was at the age when he was beginning to understand the cost of a family that size eating out together.


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± he asked, looking around.


    ¡°Absolutely!¡± Samantha crowed. ¡°It¡¯s been a good week. That¡¯s why I haven¡¯t been able to come around much. We¡¯re going to get dinner and when we¡¯re all good and fat and sleepy from too much food, we¡¯ll hit up the grocers for the days leavings and then bring it all home so you¡¯re good for the week!¡± That would probably clean out most of what she had, but most days she didn¡¯t need much in the way of fun money and she had few bills to pay. She could thank Razia and Mr. Q for that. ¡°What¡¯re you waiting for? Go get cleaned up!¡±


    Another excited scream that was sure to piss off the neighbors, and then they all disappeared into the back, into the rooms they shared with each other. Jack was the last one to go, sighing and walking calmly to the room he more or less got alone, now that Samantha was living at the Moonlit Garden. That left her and Razia alone in the main room. Razia waited until Jack was all the way in the room before she spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never not be impressed at how you manage so many kids. I don¡¯t even really know my youngest siblings,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°And you¡¯ve got them all trained. How do you do it?¡±


    Samantha laughed, shaking her head. ¡°I wish I could tell you. Dad¡¯s¡­busy, most of the time, so it kinda fell on me to watch out for them. It was either sink or swim, you know? They¡¯re good kids. They don¡¯t need much, and I try to give them as much as I can. I want them to have a real chance. A chance to live for themselves and not¡­¡±


    ¡°And not be roped into being a mom to their siblings,¡± Razia finished for her with a sad smile. ¡°You¡¯re doing a good job of it.¡±


    Pain struck Samantha. She hated thinking of it like that. It wasn¡¯t like it was a bad thing, looking after her siblings. They needed her, and she loved them dearly. But it was still a lot of pressure bearing down on her, looking after 7 children during the day while spending six nights a week pleasing her clients and making sure they had enough fun to keep coming back so she could support her family. The thought that she was the only thing keeping them from starving or being left to wander around and fall into a bad crowd was enough to make her eyes prickle and water, and this wasn¡¯t the time or place for that.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Razia said, smile falling. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make it sound so bad. I¡¯m honestly envious of how strong you are.¡±


    Samantha shook her head, letting out a short laugh. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯m just worried about dad is all. He¡¯s been in a rough spot since Mia died.¡± That was seven years ago and he¡¯d never recovered. It hit him harder than when her own mother died, a dark part of her whispered. ¡°In a few years Lana and David will be older and able to watch out for themselves and the rest of the kids will be old enough by then. The way I see it, another five years and they¡¯ll be okay. We¡¯ll all be okay.¡±


    ¡°And where will that leave you?¡± Razia asked, cocking her head to the side. ¡°You good with spending the next five years working your ass off to keep your head above the water?¡±


    ¡°What other choice do I have?¡± Samantha said. ¡°Not like I could ever just leave them alone. What kind of sister would I be, yeah? Besides, another five years and I¡¯ll be nearly thirty and can maybe think about either settling down or finding something else to do. I can handle this for a bit longer. Besides,¡± Samantha drew herself up with exaggerated importance. ¡°What would you two do without your star?¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Razia grinned. ¡°We¡¯d have suicides on our doorstep.¡±


    Lana was the first to come back, her face and hands clean but the rest of her remained dusty and comfortably messy. It was about as good as she could ask of her youngest sibling. Samantha nodded approvingly. One by one, the rest came pouring in, marginally cleaner and in some cases wearing different, brighter clothes. There was a big difference between running around the neighborhood having fun and going out to eat.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking Maggie¡¯s tonight,¡± said Samantha. It was one of the few taverns that was more or less family friendly. Maggie wouldn¡¯t let anything happen to kids, and the food was good and plentiful. ¡°You¡¯ve done well, Jack. How would you like to have a beer or two tonight?¡±


    The teens¡¯ eyes lit up with excitement. Doubtless he could get beer of his own with money he made around the streets, but it wasn¡¯t the same as big sister buying it for him as a reward. He was at that age when drinking seemed like the best thing in the world. If he followed after their father, he might never grow out of it.


    The door opened behind Samantha, and she turned around to find her father there. Samuel Barker was in his fifties and looked older. He had a small, spindly frame other than the bulging beer belly that made up the majority of his bulk. His hair was graying and wild and his eyes and nose were bright red and watery. ¡°Samantha?¡± he said. ¡°Where¡¯ve you been?¡±


    Samantha bit her lip. Where she¡¯d been? She hadn¡¯t seen him in about two weeks, since she told him she got a new job and gave him some money to feed them. ¡°Oh, you know, around. How¡¯ve you been, dad?¡±


    He smiled wide, but it wasn¡¯t a happy smile. He looked like he was about to break down crying. Which was about how he always looked, to be honest. The kids fell silent at his entrance and stared at him. ¡°Oh, you know, around,¡± he said blankly. ¡°You¡¯re looking good. Where are we going?¡±


    Razia took the opportunity to catch his attention, stepping forward and extending her hand. ¡°Mr. Barker, right? I¡¯ve been looking forward to meeting you. Sam¡¯s one of my best friends, and she speaks highly of you. I¡¯m Razia.¡±


    Samuel took her hand blankly, staring through Razia. After a few seconds it seemed like her presence finally registered and he shook it. ¡°Razia,¡± he echoed. ¡°I think Sam¡¯s mentioned you. Said you got her out of the Silk Lounge, and me out of debt. Thank you.¡±


    Razia bowed her head. ¡°It¡¯s been my pleasure. Sam has so much on her hands taking care of the kids, anything I can do to help I will.¡± Her tone was chipper, but Sam knew the spark in her friend¡¯s eyes well.


    ¡°It¡¯s really not a problem. I love looking after them, and I know how painful things have been for you, dad.¡± Eight years ago Samuel had been a large, jovial, energetic man. She hated seeing what he became, and how badly he hurt every day. The last thing she wanted was for him to have to feel guilty over things he couldn¡¯t control. It wasn¡¯t Sam¡¯s fault he didn¡¯t really survive the death of his second wife.


    Samuel¡¯s eyes slowly focused on Razia as things sunk in. Even in this state, he wasn¡¯t stupid. Tears slid down his face but his tone never changed. ¡°They¡¯re good kids, aren¡¯t they? Aren¡¯t you?¡± He turned to his children, who stared back at him blankly. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have asked for a better family.¡±


    There was silence, then Lana cleared her throat. ¡°We¡¯re going to dinner, daddy. Do you want to come with us?¡± They mostly saw their father late at night when he stumbled in, and then when he woke before he left for the day to wander the streets. Lana may have been developing an attitude, but she was too young to hate her father like some of them.


    ¡°Dinner? Out?¡± His eyes lit up, and for a second he looked like the man he¡¯d been before. Then it was gone and turned to Sam with cautious hope in his eyes. ¡°Do you want me to come?¡±


    Of course she did. Samantha loved her father dearly. Being able to bring him out and make sure he ate a good meal would be good for him and make her feel good. For just one night they could pretend everything was fine and everyone was happy together. She could picture the way he used to tell long, rambling jokes that were only funny to other drunk people but she¡¯d laugh at them anyways. For just one night he could be the dad again, sitting among his children and sharing a big hearty meal, and they¡¯d all finish out the day fat and happy and lazy.


    All it took was one look at her siblings and she knew it wasn¡¯t going to happen. Jack glowered at Sam with undisguised loathing. Tess looked away, and Tricia put her arm around her shoulder. She¡¯d been around enough to know how complicated it could all be. Millie and Stephen, thick as thieves, gave tiny, barely noticed shakes of their head to Samantha. David and Lana were the only ones who didn¡¯t look against it, with David seeming to not care and Lana actually wanting it. It was up to Samantha, then. She could invite her father and make him happy for one night, all at the cost of ruining it for her siblings.


    ¡°I do want you to come,¡± said Samantha, smiling apologetically. ¡°But things are tight this week. I¡¯ve got enough to get the kids a little something out, but they¡¯re going to have to share.¡± She caught Razia¡¯s eye. The islander gave her a tiny, respectful nod. It wasn¡¯t often Samantha lied to anyone, let alone to family.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Samuel deflated, shrinking to something smaller and sadder than he was before. ¡°Would it help if I paid for myself? I got a little bit of money today.¡± He reached into his purse and pulled out a few half qala pieces.


    ¡°Take the hint, you¡­¡± Jack trailed off at a sharp shake of the head from Samantha. He frowned, looking away, face reddening by the second. His hands balled up into fists and shook from the buried anger. Samantha understood it, even if she didn¡¯t share it.


    ¡°How about the rest of you go outside and I¡¯ll be out in a minute?¡±


    At first, nobody moved. Then Jack moved forward, and the rest of the kids trailed after him, pouring out of their house one by one. Razia slipped out at the end, pausing to make sure that was what Samantha wanted. She nodded, and Razia left the two of them alone. Samuel cleared his throat awkwardly.


    ¡°They all hate me, don¡¯t they? I don¡¯t blame them.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Samantha, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. ¡°They don¡¯t, dad. Not really. Jackie¡¯s always upset over something or another these days, and the rest of them just¡­Don¡¯t know you too well. I know you¡¯re having trouble, and I don¡¯t blame you for any of it. Things¡¯re rough, and you¡¯re just trying to get by. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    Samuel squeezed her tightly, shaking with a silent sob. ¡°I¡¯m trying, Sam. I really am. I see her everywhere I go, like she¡¯s never left me. She talks to me as if she¡¯s still there, like nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°I know, dad. I know.¡± Samantha¡¯s heart broke, the way it did every time she heard it.


    ¡°It only stops when I¡¯ve had a few drinks. I can¡¯t hear her anymore, but then I think about her and --¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, dad.¡± Samantha gently pushed him away. She wiped away a tear of her own. ¡°You don¡¯t have to explain anything to me. I know. I¡¯ve got it handled, yeah? I¡¯m making sure they¡¯re fed, they¡¯re learning, and they¡¯re growing up. I¡¯m taking care of them. All you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay? And don¡¯t get into any more debt. That¡¯s all you gotta do, stay afloat and I¡¯ll look out for the kids.¡±


    All she had were just a few tears. She couldn¡¯t afford any more, or to linger or think about this longer than she had to. It was too easy to just fall into the hurt like it was a pit, and if she did that she¡¯d spend the rest of the night trying to claw her way out of it and back into being okay again. Samantha had to be okay now, had to be strong. She had to put a big smile on her face and show that life was fun. That¡¯s what she was good at.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. He smiled at her sadly, wiping at his face, smearing dirt across his cheeks. ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t keep you. She¡­She says you¡¯re a good kid, and she wishes she could¡¯ve known you for longer. I wish I could¡¯ve known her longer.¡±


    Samantha forced a smile. ¡°I wish I could¡¯ve too. Hey,¡± she said, fishing out a five qala piece and handing it to him. ¡°I¡¯m not too hungry tonight. Why don¡¯t you get something good for yourself, and maybe a bottle of something that¡¯ll make it easier?¡±


    Samuel took the shard and stared at it. Samantha patted him on the shoulder and left him there before he could refuse it or get emotional again. She took a deep breath and reset her face as she stepped outside. Her family and Razia were waiting for her there, looking like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. There would be none of that tonight. They were going to have a good night, dammit!


    ¡°Hey, get those frowns off your face! We¡¯re going to eat until we can eat no longer and then take the world¡¯s biggest nap!¡± Her kids all let out a cheer. There was nothing a good meal and good company couldn¡¯t fix. For a few hours at least, they¡¯d all be one big happy family.

 Chapter 61: Nothing Special

    Chapter 61: Nothing Special


    It was a mixed bag, being in the middle of the pack. Jenna wasn¡¯t the most beautiful woman in the Moonlit Garden, nor was she the most popular, or most sought after. In almost every respect, she was smack dab in the middle and she¡¯d almost grown comfortable with that. She could get along with everyone else just fine and no one had anything really bad to say about her, but¡­


    ¡°Hey, Sam!¡± Jenna sat up straight on the couch. As the earliest riser out of them, she¡¯d usually already finished making and eating a simple breakfast before she lazed around on one of the couches, enjoying the late morning quiet. It almost always meant it was Jenna who greeted people when they left their rooms, and today the next up was their star. ¡°Got any good plans today?¡±


    Samantha¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Yeah! Me and Razia are going to go spend some time with my family. With as busy as things have been, I haven¡¯t gotten to in a few days. I¡¯m actually supposed to meet up with Razia like, ten minutes ago!¡± She waved as she slipped out to the garden.


    ¡°Bye Sam,¡± Jenna said to herself, frowning. There was no point in being hurt at being brushed off like that. As far as she knew, Samantha and Razia were best friends and did a lot of things together, both at work and out of it. They already had plans for the day. It wasn¡¯t their fault that Jenna did not. She disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine. It was a little early, but no one was working that day, so why not?


    Two glasses later and she was sprawled out luxuriously across the couch, hands dangling over the edge and playing with the leaves of the plant as she stared at it upside down. The plants were lovely and gave them something to do to maintain the place each day, but they weren¡¯t very interesting. They made for poor conversationalists but great listeners. She wondered if plants could get annoyed at people messing with them.


    Another of the doors opened and this time Isa came out of her room. Jenna sat straight up, vision swimming for a second. The dusk-girl was wide awake, dressed and made up for the day, and didn¡¯t even look at Jenna.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Jenna whistled from her spot on the couch. ¡°Looking good, Isa. Got somewhere special to be today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Isa as she walked on past. ¡°Away from here.¡± A few seconds later the gates clanged shut.


    ¡°Huh,¡± said Jenna. ¡°Good talk.¡±


    Before she had the chance to settle back in, Lucy emerged from her bedroom. She turned to Jenna, who perked up with excitement. ¡°Did Isa just leave?¡± she asked.


    Slumping, Jenna nodded. ¡°Yeah, you just missed her. She¡­Oh, okay, bye.¡± There went Lucy, hot on the trail.


    There sat Jenna, alone and feeling sorry for herself. No one in their group disliked her as far as she could tell, but she didn¡¯t think any of them particularly liked her either. That was the real shame, the curse, of being middle of the pack. Jenna wasn¡¯t at the top or the bottom, she was somewhere in between, easily ignored and forgotten while the rest of them made friends and had fun. It was their day off and everyone else was hanging out with each other and going out, and all she had going for her was¡­A third glass of wine, maybe? She didn¡¯t think it would help anything, but it would hardly hurt, so Jenna poured herself another glass and settled in.


    It wasn¡¯t so bad when they were working out of inns and taverns and even the Silk Lounge. The constant flux of people coming and going made the lack of any particular attention on her less noticeable. Who cared if Samantha caught everyone¡¯s eye first? There were plenty of men to go around. It wasn¡¯t a big deal if the other girls were closer with each other than with her, there was always someone to talk to, always something to do. Until now.


    What was wrong with her? What made Jenna so much less interesting than everyone else? She really wanted to know. If she knew, then maybe she could do something about it or at least stop wondering why. The money was good, not having to worry about a roof over her head was even better, but somewhere along the line things became so much lonelier than they were, and that was a problem that seemed unique to her.


    Lynne came out of the room she and Samantha shared. Just to prove something to herself, Jenna said nothing. She sipped at her wine, staring off into the distance and just waited. The slender blonde woman disappeared into the kitchen and came out with an apple and she too headed for the gardens. Not once did she even look at Jenna. She took a deep breath, then let out a frustrated roar, collapsing backwards into a lying position on the couch. Most importantly, she didn¡¯t spill a drop of wine.


    Another door opened, and the last occupant came out. Kelli was new, and much like everyone else, Jenna had no idea what she thought about her other than vaguely feeling that she was solidly okay. Sure she made a few mistakes and could be mouthy, but it was better than just being there and existing while being unnoticed. ¡°Everything okay?¡± Kelli asked her.


    ¡°Yep. Everything¡¯s great,¡± said Jenna. ¡°Just another day in paradise.¡± She drained her glass dry. It didn¡¯t make her feel any better.


    ¡°Right,¡± said Kelli, eyeing her. ¡°Where¡¯s everyone?¡±


    Jenna gesticulated wildly with her wine glass. ¡°Out and about. Samantha and Razia are visiting family for the day. Isa is out doing Isa things, and Lucy went after her. Lynne left for¡­I don¡¯t know where, she didn¡¯t say anything. You¡¯re right here and I¡¯m on the couch feeling shitty. Did I miss anyone?¡±


    ¡°I think you got them all,¡± said Kelli with a crooked smile. ¡°Why¡¯re you feeling shitty? Did something happen?¡± She came a little closer, stopping at the foot of the couch.


    Jenna shook her head no. ¡°Nothing happened. Not a damned thing. I¡¯m just bored and want to do something but I don¡¯t know what. Everyone else is doing something on their day off.¡±


    ¡°What, you don¡¯t have any family or friends to go visit?¡± Kelli scoffed. ¡°No one?¡±


    Well, there it was. It was like a dagger sinking into her gut and twisting it. ¡°No one,¡± she said, sighing and looking straight up at the ceiling. ¡°I used to have Amy, but she got pissy when Mr. Q got arrested and left and I haven¡¯t seen her since. You¡¯re in the same boat, yeah? No one around here wants to hang out with you either.¡±


    It was the wine speaking for her, but Jenna wasn¡¯t too far gone to realize she went too far with that one. Kelli just made a face and said, ¡°Gee, thanks for the reminder.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡± Jenna said, instantly apologetic. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to say -- I mean, you¡¯re fine, it¡¯s just¡­¡±


    Kelli arched a brow at her. Jenna shrugged, smiling weakly. ¡°They¡¯re not used to you yet is all. You seem okay to me.¡±


    ¡°High praise, coming from the other unliked bitch,¡± Kelli shot back. Neither of them said anything for a minute, staring each other down. Eventually, Jenna gave in and looked away. ¡°Look,¡± Kelli sighed, lifting Jenna¡¯s feet and sitting down on the couch under them. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. That was mean.¡±


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Kinda was, yeah.¡±


    The new girl let out a groan and slumped into the plush cushions. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to be around here. The last place I worked, everyone was so cutthroat and ready to stab each other in the back. You had to fight for your spot, fight to be noticed, fight just to stay in favor with whatever asshole was running things. People had friends, but you never really got close. One night you could be buddy buddy and the next enemies. This place is downright weird in comparison.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not like that. Mostly.¡± Jenna poured a fourth glass of wine. The bottle was half empty at this point. She knew she should probably slow down, but why? On second thought, she offered the newly filled glass to Kelli. ¡°We¡¯ve all been friends for a while, and leaving the Silk Lounge together brought us even closer together.¡±


    Taking the glass, Kelli toasted her silently and took a sip. ¡°I¡¯m jealous of that,¡± she blurted out. ¡°This rapport you all got. All of them get mad at me for trying to talk to them. At least, they do when I start asking questions. Is everything here supposed to be hush hush? I just want someone to talk to.¡±


    Oh how Jenna understood that. She nodded sympathetically, shifting and making herself comfortable with her legs in Kelli¡¯s lap. ¡°I get it. Well, unless you keep saying mean things, I¡¯ll talk to you as much as you want.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kelli¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°That¡¯s so great. I have so many things I want to know. Like, what¡¯s Razia¡¯s deal? Why isn¡¯t she sleeping in the room she works in?¡±


    That made Jenna laugh. ¡°She lives with Mr. Q next door. They¡¯ve been shacking up since we left the Silk Lounge. You had a friend who worked there, right?¡±


    ¡°Kind of. Friend¡¯s a strong word. I knew a girl and she came to the neighborhood I was working in at the time after the place got burned. What happened with that?¡± Kelli took another drink of wine, eyes locked on Jenna¡¯s and eager.


    That suited Jenna just fine. The best part of being the middle girl was getting a little bit of everything from everyone. Even if she wasn¡¯t the focus of conversations, Jenna heard things. She wasn¡¯t stupid, it was easy and fun to piece things together and get the juiciest bits of gossip just by being there and people forgetting she was there and lived off of gossip as much as she did water and air. ¡°Well, there¡¯s the story Sam tells, and then what I think happened,¡± she said.


    ¡°Ohhhhhh?¡± Kelli pressed on, grinning.


    ¡°According to Sam, Mr. Q was looking for Razia and had Sam pass on a message. But the owner of the place, Otho, offered to sell Samantha¡¯s life to him for a ridiculous amount. Razia got pissed and dragged us out of there, yelling out a bunch of secrets and getting everyone to fight each other. That much is true,¡± she added. ¡°I was there for that. I nearly shat myself when the brawl broke out, but we made a break for it and started working taverns.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think happened?¡± Kelli asked.


    ¡°Well,¡± Jenna¡¯s voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. ¡°I think Mr. Q was looking for Razia just like Samantha said, but I think it was because they planned on burning the Silk Lounge. It wasn¡¯t because of Samantha, that¡¯s just the excuse they used.¡±


    ¡°Why would they want to do that? Wasn¡¯t the Silk Lounge one of Mr. Cicero¡¯s places?¡± Kelli finished the glass of wine and held it out for a refill. Jenna poured awkwardly from her lying position, spilling a little on her stomach and making both of them laugh a little.


    ¡°Yeah, but Mr. Cicero didn¡¯t do shit to them!¡± Jenna wiped some wine away with her thumb and licked it clean. ¡°He even showed up opening night to inspect the place and give his blessing. What I think happened is that Otho pissed off Mr. Cicero and Razia took him down in exchange for being able to open up her own place. It was after that the rest of us met the bossman at a tavern we were working at. He beat the piss out of a bunch of guys bothering Isa.¡±


    Kelli made a face. ¡°Should¡¯ve let them. Wouldn¡¯t be a great loss.¡±


    A pang of guilt tugged at Jenna. She¡¯d thought similar things in the past, and hated herself for it. ¡°Isa¡¯s really not so bad when you get to know her. Once you realize she¡¯s like that with everyone and it¡¯s not personal, it¡¯s a lot easier to just shrug the shit she says off.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s had it out for me day one. It¡¯s definitely personal,¡± she said, drinking. ¡°Anyway, Mr. Q beat the piss out of some guys, and¡­?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. He beat the piss out of them and started coming around each night. Soon we were all paying him and didn¡¯t have so many problems with shitty guys, you know? You¡¯ve seen him smack people around.¡±


    It looked like Kelli was battling with herself before she asked her next question. ¡°Does it bother you at all? Working for a¡­Him?¡±


    Now that was an interesting question. ¡°Not really,¡± Jenna said, throwing her hands up into the air. ¡°He¡¯s scary, and if the stories of the curse are true then I guess I¡¯ll die young, but not like there¡¯s much going for me anyway. I¡¯d rather enjoy myself and make some money while I can than live a long, miserable life scraping by.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± said Kelli, smacking Jenna¡¯s leg. ¡°Don¡¯t be so hard on yourself. You¡¯ve got plenty going for you. You¡¯re way nicer than everyone else, and you¡¯ve got good taste in wine.¡±


    Jenna smiled, looking away. It was nice to hear, and the buzz from the wine didn¡¯t hurt when it came to feeling warm and fuzzy around the edges. ¡°It¡¯s not my choice. Razia bought the wine, this is just the bottle I grabbed.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve got good luck,¡± Kelli shrugged. ¡°Still something. So Mr. Q started coming around and things got easier.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Seemed like we were all just enjoying ourselves and doing well, up until Maria got picked up by the Watch and sentenced to death.¡± That killed some of the warm and fuzzies. Jenna hadn¡¯t been especially close to Maria, but it was hard not to feel her loss. Especially when Tricia worked there at the Garden with them at night, running drinks and food. It was a constant reminder that the city didn¡¯t care about them and would chew them up and spit them out if they missed a step.


    ¡°After that, he disappeared for a bit. Took it really hard, I guess. When that bastard Darriq hurt Lucy, he came back and really fucked him up. Then he got this place for us. Isa said that he said he¡¯s a killer. I think he worked for Mr. Cicero and this is his retirement package for years of service. They burned the Silk Lounge as one last job, he had a bit of fun with us and took some time to decide if he wanted it, and then he did. We¡¯ve been here ever since, and he¡¯s mellowed out a bit. Seems less on edge these days, until someone pisses him off. If he was a killer, I¡¯d believe it. He¡¯s dangerous, but he¡¯s on our side.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Kelli finished that glass of wine too, swallowing hard. ¡°He does look rough, but he¡¯s one of the only two people who¡¯ve been nice to me at all.¡± She looked down at her lap, deep in thought. Right when Jenna was going to ask if she was okay, Kelli said, in a lower voice, ¡°do you think I belong here? Maybe I don¡¯t fit in and should just find someplace else to be.¡±


    It was funny, how quickly things could change. If anyone had asked Jenna the night before whether she would care if Kelli left or not, she would¡¯ve shrugged and given a noncommittal answer. Now, after spending a bit of time with her and sharing some wine, the idea stung a bit. ¡°You belong here as much as I do,¡± said Jenna. ¡°And if they¡¯re going to be bitches to us, at least we got each other. Wine buddies, right?¡± This time, Jenna tilted her head up and drank straight from the bottle. Twin rivulets of darkest red trailed out the corner of her lips.


    Kelli took the bottle from her after and drank as well. ¡°Wine buddies,¡± she confirmed. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, letting things sink in and just enjoying each other¡¯s company. When Kelli broke the silence, it was to ask, ¡°So what do you like to do for fun?¡±


    ¡°Honestly? I¡¯m not sure,¡± Jenna admitted. ¡°I¡¯m so used to working and spending time permanently on call for work that I haven¡¯t gotten to do much for myself in a while. I¡¯ve got the shards now, but I¡¯ve got no clue what to do with them. Why? What do you like to do?¡±


    ¡°Alright, so here¡¯s the plan,¡± Kelli said. ¡°You and me, we go out and catch some beetle fights. Maybe throw our money away on some stupid bets, and get something to eat while we¡¯re there. Then, we go catch a street show and jeer at the shitty actors and see if we can make them forget their lines. And then, we go out dancing and ignore every guy that comes our way. Unless they¡¯re especially cute. How does that sound?¡±


    Jenna was taken aback. Out of those plans, only the dancing sounded appealing. But this was Kelli, offering to spend time with her and go out and have fun. Maybe the beetle fights would be fun, and yelling at actors didn¡¯t seem like it would be too bad. A bit mean maybe, but Kelli and Isa both seemed to have fun being mean, so why not her? ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡± Kelli beamed. ¡°And while we¡¯re out, I want to hear everything. Ever last dirty, juicy bit of gossip you¡¯ve got!¡±


    Jenna smiled. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got gossip for DAYS.¡± Yeah, this could be the start of something really great.

 Chapter 62: Show Me Your Bitch face

    Chapter 62: Show Me Your Bitch Face


    The first thing Isa did when she woke up most mornings was to put on her face, even if she wasn¡¯t going out and about. It wasn¡¯t something she did out of shame or insecurity. Generally speaking, she liked the way she looked and having control over her appearance was a key part of that. By starting her day choosing what she would wear and how she would make up her face, Isa chose how she planned for that day to go. By the time she was done, she was awake and ready to take on the day.


    It had been a more important ritual when she stayed at inns for a few weeks here and there, or the one disastrous time she¡¯d spent a season at the same insula. Back then, not looking her best was a great way for shitty people to comment on her appearance in ways that were detrimental to their health and Isa¡¯s general sense of peace. Now that she lived among friends, it wasn¡¯t as important but it was still something she did.


    Blotting her lips on a sponge, Isa stared into her reflection, blowing herself a kiss. The deep reddish brown lip paint matched her complexion and kept attention on her face. Her eyes were lined with black, ending in short wings that framed dark eyes. Long, silky black hair flowed freely over her shoulders. Today, she chose to wear bright blue, a nice contrast to her dark features. Giving herself a real smile she grabbed her purse and headed out for the door, ready to enjoy her day off.


    ¡°Wow, Isa, looking good!¡± Jenna called from the couch. ¡°Got somewhere special to be?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Isa, not breaking her stride. ¡°Away from here.¡± She went out through the garden gates. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t like being at the Garden. It was beautiful, it was comfortable, it was safe. The problem was how easy it became to just spend all her time there and forget about the outside world. That was a good way of going soft and losing your edge. Orchrisus wasn¡¯t kind to people who forgot how harsh and dangerous it could be.


    ¡°Isa!¡± a voice called out from behind Isa before she was out of the courtyard. She stopped near an idle guard and looked over her shoulder. Lucy jogged to her, stopping just short. She looked nervous, though that wasn¡¯t out of the ordinary. She learned first hand how bad things could get, and she hadn¡¯t been quite the same since.


    ¡°Lucy,¡± Isa greeted neutrally. Aside from Samantha, Lucy was the only other person she went out of her way to be kinder to. Especially after what happened to her. ¡°Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Lucy said. Then she stood there and said nothing, just looking at the older woman until Isa¡¯s patience twitched. She looked like she was fighting over what to say, or maybe that she didn¡¯t know how to say it.


    ¡°Well, what is it?¡± Isa asked, not unkindly but with a pointed look towards the arches that led out of the neighborhood. She had places to be.


    ¡°I¡­How do you do it?¡± Lucy blurted out. ¡°How did you get so tough and unflappable?¡±


    Hah, the girl thought Isa was unflappable. If only she knew. Isa couldn¡¯t help but smile, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s about boundaries and standards. You need to know what your worth is and be unwilling to let anyone treat you as less than.¡± Then, louder to the courtyard guard leaning up against a villa nearby, she barked, ¡°If you keep undressing us with your eyes, we¡¯re going to have to charge.¡±


    Immediately the guard straightened up and looked away. Lucy gestured at him and said, ¡°Like that. How do you just do that without being afraid?¡±


    Isa wrestled with herself over how to handle this. This was supposed to be their day off, and she fully intended to spend it doing things for her and no one else. One day out of the entire week to not have to be there for another¡¯s wants or needs. That wasn¡¯t too much to ask for, was it? On the other hand, even she didn¡¯t have a heart hard enough to just shrug Lucy off entirely.


    Sighing, Isa said, ¡°You have some spending money on you?¡±


    ¡°I have some, yeah,¡± Lucy replied, patting her purse. She probably had less than the rest of them given how spotty her performances had been, but none of them were hurting for shards these days. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I have plans today and if you¡¯re going to tag along and talk with me, I¡¯m not paying for everything.¡±


    ¡°Tag along?¡± Lucy¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°You want me to come with you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather that than stand here all day and lecture you. C¡¯mon, before the place gets too crowded.¡± She turned around and resumed walking. Lucy ran after her until she caught up, falling in step beside her.


    They didn¡¯t speak as they walked around the city, and Isa was grateful she didn¡¯t have to tell Lucy off for trying. Things were generally safer during the day, but it was hard to have a serious conversation when pressed in on all sides by a writing mass of bodies all trying to make their way across the city. The place they were going wasn¡¯t too far, and was in fact one of the first places Isa found after scouting the area around her new home.


    ¡°Ooh,¡± Lucy said when she saw the sign on the outside of the building. There were no words, only pictures of hands and feet up on a side. Flashing an excited grin at Isa, they went inside.


    Not too much longer after that they found themselves sitting in firm but yielding chairs, feet soaking in hot water while a couple of older women scrubbed their heels with a rough stone. ¡°How did you find this place? I never would¡¯ve thought to do this,¡± Lucy said.


    ¡°Clearly you¡¯ve never had men interested in fucking your feet,¡± Isa replied, smirking as she reclined in her chair. On the floor, the woman scrubbing slowed down and looked up at her in surprise. ¡°Hey, did I tell you to stop?¡± She went at it again even harder. That was much better.


    ¡°You know, I can¡¯t say that I have,¡± Lucy admitted, laughing. ¡°This feels really good though.¡±


    ¡°If you want to be more like me,¡± Isa said, knowing full well that wasn¡¯t necessarily what Lucy meant when she asked how she did it, ¡°you have to learn to be good to yourself. That¡¯s lesson one. If you¡¯re not good and kind to yourself, how can you expect anyone else to be? That means taking care of yourself and treating yourself to nice things because you deserve it.¡±


    Lucy screwed up her face. ¡°Being nicer to myself is going to make me tougher?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isa said, ¡°being nicer to yourself is the first step into not taking shit from other people. Let¡¯s take you for an example. You¡¯re a good kid, but you still seem a lot like a kid. You¡¯re timid, quiet, and your body language screams ¡®potential victim¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Lucy, deflating.


    ¡°That right there, that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about,¡± said Isa. ¡°I tell you something truthful and you immediately shrink and accept it. Anyone who wants to bully you is free to do so.¡±


    The women at their feet put the stones away and instead worked on gripping and squeezing their feet, rubbing out the tension and drawing out an appreciative groan from Isa. Lucy remained quiet for a little while, though it was clear she was enjoying the attention as well. She was deep in thought and Isa was in no hurry for her to reach whatever conclusion she was coming to. It let the dusk-girl close her eyes and enjoy being in the moment.


    ¡°How should I have reacted instead?¡± Lucy finally asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d lie to me, and I asked for your opinion.¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Isa said. ¡°How you react is on you, isn¡¯t it? If it was me, I would¡¯ve told you to eat shit or to kiss my ass if you were criticizing me out of nowhere. Maybe you ask for more info if you¡¯re really stuck on it and want to know more. Or you accept it as something to think about, but realize it¡¯s not an attack on you. My opinions of you are my problem, you understand? Not yours. You can be curious what I think but what matters most is what you think. What do you like about yourself, Lucy?¡±


    Gods, if the previous silence was heavy, this one was weighty and lengthy. The women servicing their feet took that time to trim their nails and shape them, and were halfway finished with painting them colors they¡¯d chosen at the start of the session when Lucy finally spoke up again. It was with the same timid, hesitant tone, as if she was afraid she would upset Isa and their day would be ruined.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess I like my eyes. Not too many people around here have blue eyes, and it usually gets me compliments. I like where I am, and all my friends, they --¡±


    ¡°I asked what you liked about you, not the things around you.¡±


    ¡°...And I really like that I don¡¯t start fights for no reason,¡± Lucy said, heat entering her voice. ¡°Unlike some people.¡±


    Isa opened her eyes, smiling. ¡°Now that¡¯s a little more like it. Stand up for yourself. Doesn¡¯t have to mean you throw a punch or call someone a bitch, but don¡¯t take shit from anyone, not even me.¡±


    ¡°I like the way I look, even with my face being different,¡± Lucy continued. ¡°I look a little older now. Everything else¡­I guess it¡¯s mostly things around me. I don¡¯t feel like I know who I am most of the time, but being around other people makes me feel like me. Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡¯ said Isa, smiling wider now. ¡°I know exactly what you mean. Good or bad, when you¡¯re with other people it reminds you who you are. Could be you¡¯re a person who needs to be around other people. That isn¡¯t me, but it isn¡¯t wrong to be that way. Think about it sometime, Lucy. When you¡¯re with everyone and you feel like yourself, ask yourself who you are and why.¡±


    With their feet and nails dried, they paid the ridiculous fee and went about their day, off to their next stop. Isa had the entire day planned out well in advance, looking forward to being able to take some of her hard earned money and have fun with it, instead of just living to work another day. Lucy coming along was an unexpected development, but the more time they spent together the less Isa minded a change to her plans. It even worked out better when they reached their next stop.


    The clothing store wasn¡¯t especially crowded that day, and there was plenty of room for the two to look over a variety of colorful new dresses hanging from the walls from hooks. Isa pulled a yellow and purple one off the wall and held it up in front of her. ¡°What do you think?¡± she asked Lucy.


    Lucy looked and made a face. ¡°I don¡¯t think yellow is your color,¡± she said, before she flushed and opened her mouth to clarify.


    ¡°None of that,¡± Isa preemptively interrupted. ¡°I asked, you answered. Being direct is good. What color do you see on me?¡± She gestured to the wall.


    Looking around, Lucy chewed on her lip as she thought about it. She bypassed most of the more popular colors and went instead to a colorless dress that was simple, elegant, and even a bit formal in its cut. ¡°What about this?¡± she said.


    Isa took the dress from her, thinking about it. ¡°I don¡¯t tend to wear white often,¡± she said. ¡°Too easy to get dust on it. If I were to go out on a windy day, it¡¯d be filthy in minutes.¡±


    ¡°Well, what about at the Garden?¡± Lucy pressed. ¡°I think white would look good on you.¡±


    She frowned, but considered it. Taking another look at the dress and the lack of color, her thoughts strayed towards Quentin and his pale, whitish pink pallor. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± she said, though she couldn¡¯t quite say why. It would look good on her. Any of these dresses would, naturally, but this one would make her look clean, pure even, in a house of vice. The contrast was delicious, but something about it didn¡¯t feel right.


    ¡°Maybe another time,¡± she said, putting it back on the wall. Isa grabbed a red dress instead. ¡°This is much more my style. Red is powerful. Red is aggressive. Red doesn¡¯t take shit from anyone. Wait here.¡± Isa took the red dress to the back, where there were tiny rooms to try things on. When she came out again, the red dress was tight on her, especially around the shoulders, and it clung to her in a way that made her feel exposed. The fact that it ended several inches above her knees didn¡¯t help. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Lucy cocked her head to the side. ¡°You look beautiful!¡± she said, smiling widely. ¡°You¡¯re right, red¡¯s your color. Doesn¡¯t look like it fits too well though,¡± she said, gesturing at the top half of the dress.


    ¡°That¡¯s normal,¡± Isa replied. ¡°The seamstress will take my measurements and make adjustments before I take it home.¡± It occurred to her that maybe Lucy hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to go shopping for good clothes. As far as she knew, she was little better than a street rat, a pretty little gem among all the filth. Well, that just wouldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Isa said. ¡°Which one are you picking out?¡±


    Lucy reacted with a start. ¡°Me? I¡¯m not getting any of them. These look expensive, and I haven¡¯t been getting as much. The pedicures took a decent chunk of what I had.¡±


    Isa snapped her fingers and pointed at the wall. Was she going to do this? Yes, she supposed she was. She wasn¡¯t the heartless bitch other people thought of her. She had a soft spot, and Lucy was a decent part of it. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you if you were getting one, I asked you which one. I¡¯ll get the dress if you get lunch.¡± She¡¯d seen in Lucy¡¯s purse, there was at least enough for a couple of good meals.


    ¡°I¡­Really? You sure you want to do that?¡± Lucy asked, pale face reddening further.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t pick a dress, I will,¡± Isa said, smirking. ¡°In fact¡­¡± She grabbed another red one off the wall. ¡°Try this one on.¡±


    Lucy took it. ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡± she said.


    They both disappeared into the back. Isa changed back into the clothes she brought while Lucy tried hers on. A few minutes passed without her reappearance. And then another. Eventually, Isa lost her patience and rapped her knuckles on the door. ¡°Luce?¡± she called out. ¡°Did you accidentally strangle yourself with the dress? What¡¯s taking so long?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can wear this,¡± came Lucy¡¯s muffled voice. ¡°This is a bit much. Or not enough, actually.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see it!¡± Isa banged her fist against the door. After a squeak, Lucy came out.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± said Isa, leering at Lucy. ¡°That dress is perfect for you. You want to be tougher and stronger? Wear this with your head held high and with attitude and you¡¯ll be untouchable.¡±


    Like Isa¡¯s dress, the hem was cut high and even simple motions would offer a flash of what was beneath. It was tight on her thin, small frame, with a plunging neckline that went down to just above her navel. It was silky, with black lace along the edges. Lucy may have been a whore like the rest of them, but she didn¡¯t tend to look like one. She did now. The black and red suited her pale skin and dark hair, making her into a tiny temptress.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s me,¡± she said, fingering the lace along her chest. ¡°If I¡¯ve been freaking out by grabby men, this might just invite them to grab me more.¡±


    ¡°If they do, scream in their face,¡± said Isa. ¡°Show them anger, not fear. If you¡¯re angry, you¡¯re not afraid and you¡¯re less of a potential victim. They want easy, pliable targets, not a problem. They¡¯re after dainty flowers they can pluck, not a beautiful but prictly cactus. Show me your best bitch face.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your best bitch face,¡± Isa demanded. ¡°Like this.¡± She narrowed her eyes at Lucy, lip curling just a hair while she gathered up all of her contempt and scorn to wear like a mask. Lucy shriveled away from it.


    ¡°That¡¯s a really good bitch face,¡± Lucy admitted. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll give it a try.¡± Lucy¡¯s first attempt was¡­it was an attempt, at least. She tried to look as angry as Isa did, but she mostly ended up looking cross-eyed.


    ¡°No. Try again.¡±


    She did, cycling through a dozen weird expressions that were all too forced, too exaggerated, too weird to be effective. Eventually Isa motioned for her to stop. ¡°Those are all terrible.¡± An idea struck her. ¡°Godawful, in fact. You didn¡¯t look like a bitch, you looked like a goofy kid making faces at someone. Then I remembered you really are still a child, and I shouldn¡¯t have expected better.¡±


    The look on Lucy¡¯s face was genuine this time. There was hurt there, but it quickly changed to irritation and a shocked, appalled sneer. ¡°Fuck you, I¡¯m not a child!¡±


    ¡°Perfect!¡± Isa snapped. ¡°There¡¯s your bitch face. Feel it out and save it for later. If anyone gives you shit just give them this look and walk away. You don¡¯t owe anyone anything, certainly not your attention or time.¡±


    Lucy looked embarrassed for a moment, but then she nodded. Her normal, tiny half smile was back for a second before she switched on back to the bitch face, letting out an audible scoff. Isa made the same face back and added to it by rolling her eyes. Lucy burst out into giggles while Isa gave a rare warm and genuine smile. This was the first time in weeks she¡¯d seen Lucy smile without holding some part of herself back. Isa found herself feeling good about it.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re wearing that dress out and buying me lunch.¡±

 Chapter 63: Time To Kill Again

    Chapter 63: Time To Kill Again


    The Colosseum felt different. Nothing had visibly changed in the month since Quentin had last been there. It still stood alone on the border of the great desert and Orchrisus. Not a brick or grain of sand looked out of place. The crowd was the same as it ever was, though maybe a little thicker at this time of day. It was open during the day most days, with athletic competitions, chariot races, and some of the gladiator¡¯s practice matches. It wasn¡¯t unusual to see people there before sunset, but there wasn¡¯t usually a line to get in. Whatever it was, Quentin pushed it aside and wound around the building until he reached the guarded employee¡¯s entrance.


    The giant of a man there, Berk, looked momentarily confused to see Quentin, but he let him pass with an amicable grunt. From there, some of that odd unease faded away. It was good to be back, he told himself as he went down the corridors down to the locker room. His spot was still there, and the armor as well, untouched by the other gladiators in their own corner. Though now a second locker was in the corner next to his. Cervenka¡¯s beaked mask hung off the corner of it, taunting Quentin silently. He looked at it with distaste, wondering if it would be petty to throw it on the ground when someone behind him spoke.


    ¡°Quintius? I thought you quit.¡± He turned around to see Bruce there, helmet under his arm. The other gladiator was half dressed and looked surprised but not alarmed to see him. And for a change, there wasn¡¯t as much of that look of discomfort and distaste.


    ¡°So did I,¡± Quentin said with a crooked smile. ¡°I got a note from Demetrius telling me to meet him here tonight about official Colosseum business. Where is he?¡±


    ¡°In the practice yard,¡± said Bruce, jerking his head in the right direction. ¡°We got a new batch of fish to break in and he¡¯s having the time of his life.¡±


    Quentin let out a bark of laughter. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll bet he is. Hey,¡± he motioned towards the beaked mask. ¡°Has he been as big a bastard as I expected?¡±


    The comfortable, easy look on Bruce¡¯s face vanished. His lip curled and he nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not great. He still acts like one of us, hamming it up for the crowd. Amicus loves it, but the matches¡­They¡¯re a lot longer than yours were.¡±


    That was exactly what he feared. Grimacing, Quentin nodded. ¡°He getting the same treatment I did? Everyone avoiding him like the plague?¡±


    To his credit, Bruce winced and looked appropriately guilty. ¡°We didn¡¯t even have that chance. When he¡¯s around, he¡¯s just as loud, in your face, and attention grabbing as before. If anyone tries to ignore him, he¡­¡± Bruce shook his head. ¡°That crazy bastard is going to get himself killed. And I don¡¯t mean in the arena.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Quentin, ¡°better him than me.¡± And he meant it. Now that he was back, it was like this happened another lifetime ago. It was a different Quentin entirely. One who was shyer, quieter, had no friends and spent his life hiding, coming out only to kill someone before slinking off. Gods, only a month and his life was so much different now.


    ¡°Is it true what Jonas has been saying?¡± Bruce asked, cocking his head to the side. ¡°You really hanging out with a bunch of whores now?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Quentin said. ¡°You can find my place just south of the Boulevard of Saint Trassius. Come by sometime, you¡¯ll get a discount.¡± He clapped his hand on Bruce¡¯s shoulder, inwardly laughing at the surprised look on his face before he left the locker room behind and went to the shaded practice yard on the east side of the Colosseum.


    All the veteran gladiators were already sparring or doing weapon drills, while the newbies ran around the track for hours on end. Anytime one of them slowed or faltered, Demetrius was there to bark at them. ¡°The fuck you think you¡¯re doing, fatty? Did I tell you to stop? You keep your ass moving. Slowest fish gets axed.¡±


    Quentin waited for the line of five recruits to pass before he crossed onto the sand and stood next to Demetrius. ¡°Your favorite part of the job, brother?¡±


    Demetrius didn¡¯t answer him at first. His eyes remained locked on the runners, turning the corner now and¡­one of them collapsed to the ground, and the rest of them tapered to a stop, looking behind them. ¡°There it is. First one to drop. Gonna bust his balls real good and he¡¯ll either quit or be the hardest working motherfucker out of them. Just a sec, Quintius. Hey!¡± Demetrius strode forward, waving his arms wildly. ¡°Your brother in arms collapses and you just stand there, looking at him? You and you, bring him to the infirmary. Make sure he gets plenty of water and then get your asses back out here for more running. You haven¡¯t begun to suffer yet.¡±


    Two of the recruits, both so skinny and young, helped their comrade up to his feet and pulled him along out of the way. The remaining two went right back on to jogging, staying at a steady pace though sweat streamed freely down their face, soaking their nondescript tunics until it clung to their bodies. Quentin smiled fondly, remembering the days he used to be one of them, running and running until he could barely feel his legs. Then when that was over, they¡¯d use him as a training dummy for sparring until his entire body was a bruise.


    ¡°These new kids aren¡¯t bad. Once you break them down first,¡± Demetrius returned to the center next to Quentin. He looked up at his friend, eyes narrowed. ¡°You keeping up on your health in your retirement, or are you getting all your exercise from the girls?¡±


    Quentin laughed. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m keeping up with basic training. I spend at least an hour each day jogging around my garden and making sure I don¡¯t get too fat and lazy. Nowhere near the two or three hours a day I¡¯d spend here, but¡­¡±


    Demetrius grunted, looking around the yard with his sharp, appraising gaze. ¡°You¡¯re likely not fighting for your life three times a week anymore. If you¡¯re even fighting at all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m basically not,¡± Quentin admitted, shrugging. ¡°The type of people who give me trouble aren¡¯t used to getting into real fights. Frankly, I¡¯ve been embarrassing them more than hurting them when they need to be shown the door. How come you haven¡¯t visited me? We¡¯ve been in business for three weeks now.¡±


    ¡°How come you haven¡¯t visited me?¡± Demetrius countered. ¡°That door goes both ways, Quintius. You¡¯ve known where to find me, and you know I¡¯m not comfortable in that big clean house of yours.¡±


    Guilt nipped at Quentin, but it was gone within seconds. ¡°I¡¯ve actually been really busy since retiring,¡± he said. ¡°I spent a week feeling like death and then had to get my shit together for everyone else. Since then I bought a second place, started a business, and have been the only one there in case of trouble. That¡¯s something I wanted to talk to you about actually.¡±


    ¡°New rule, bitches,¡± Demetrius called out. ¡°Me and this big idiot are going to start running. If we catch up to you, you¡¯re really not going to like it. C¡¯mon, then.¡± He stepped out onto the ring of sand surrounding the center, a miniature version of the main arena, and started jogging. Quentin took off his cloak and let it drop and followed him, catching up quickly and matching his pace. It felt good to be moving like this again with others, part of a team of people all working for the same goal of being the best fighter they could be. Ahead of them, one of the new pups looked over his shoulder and put on a burst of speed to put some more distance between them.


    After a few seconds of just enjoying the feel of jogging on a warm spring day, Demetrius finally spoke up. ¡°Speak, then.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be the only one protecting my girls at all times,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I need one or two other people in there in case things get really hairy. I was hoping I could pick at your brain and see if there are any retired gladiators who want some easy guard work with some nice perks attached to it.¡±


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    Without missing a step, Demetrius looked up at him in surprise. ¡°Are you really starting to get that big?¡±


    Grinning, Quentin said, ¡°Brother, I¡¯m making nearly as much each night as I would here. A lot of it gets eaten up by operating costs and paying employees, but from here we¡¯re only going to grow. I need some men before it gets too big and something bad happens.¡±


    Demetrius grunted in the affirmative before falling silent again. For the next minute the only sounds were the swish of sand, the sounds of weapons striking dummies, and the cries of the gladiators as they went through their forms. Quentin wasn¡¯t worried. Demetrius did this sometimes, where he¡¯d suddenly stop talking as if he hadn¡¯t heard you in the first place and just think about it. In his experience, it was usually a good sign.


    ¡°So you¡¯re happy there?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Incredibly,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I spend my nights surrounded by beautiful women and drinking wine. Once or twice a night I get to slap a fool around before going back to listening to men with more money than sense tell stories of their lives and get sucked in by my girls¡¯ charm until they¡¯re addicted. I don¡¯t have Amicus breathing down my neck or have to risk my life. I don¡¯t have to feel guilty all the time.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Demetrius breathed, coming to a stop. They got off the ring, and Demetrius looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. ¡°You don¡¯t understand how happy I am to hear that. I¡¯ve been worried about you. If I hadn¡¯t been told to reach out to you, I was still going to check before too long.¡±


    ¡°Told to reach out to me?¡±


    Demetrius shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll get to that. Don¡¯t wanna ruin the moment just yet. The important thing is you¡¯re still young, you¡¯re in good health, and you¡¯re a businessman now. That¡¯s incredible, Quintius. Your worse half still running things behind your back?¡±


    A flutter went through Quentin¡¯s stomach at the way Demetrius referred to her. Part of him wanted to be insulted, but the idea that they were two halves was¡­He shook his head. ¡°More or less. She takes care of all the details and numbers I don¡¯t care about while I get to look intimidating and have fun. But it¡¯s not like she¡¯s doing it behind my back. We¡¯re full partners, and we don¡¯t keep anything from each other.¡± Mostly.


    ¡°A woman like that never tells you the whole truth,¡± said Demetrius. ¡°There¡¯s always something, mark my words.¡±


    ¡°So you still don¡¯t like her, then?¡± It would¡¯ve been so easy for Quentin to be upset at the way Demetrius talked about her. It felt like an attack on him, his judgment, his sensibilities, everything. Years of training under the man had toughened him up and made him almost immune to the grizzled veteran¡¯s tone. Almost. ¡°What did she ever do to you?¡±


    ¡°Find out who you are, blackmailed you, and then got you arrested and nearly sentenced to death?¡± Demetrius crossed his arms over his chest.


    ¡°Well, yeah, but she got me off afterwards,¡± Quentin protested.


    ¡°Oh, I bet she did.¡±


    He walked right into that one. Quentin covered his face with his palm and took a deep breath. ¡°You might not believe me about this, but we haven¡¯t done anything. We¡¯re just friends.¡±


    The trainees ran past them, forcing them to fall silent until they were gone. Demetrius shook his head. ¡°So what is it you¡¯re getting out of this, then?¡±


    ¡°A friend, a successful business, and fun. That¡¯s all I want.¡±


    ¡°Beetleshit!¡± Demetrius jabbed a finger into Quentin¡¯s chest. ¡°There¡¯s no way you¡¯re going to tell me that you¡¯re hanging around a bunch of whores, not getting your dick wet at all, and that you don¡¯t want more. Unless you¡¯re not into women that way. That¡¯d make sense, given -- ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± Quentin growled. ¡°Never bring that up. Let that stay in the past and die. Razia¡¯s my friend, I enjoy what I do, and while I do want more, I¡¯m okay with what I have. Are you going to help me or are you just going to bust my balls all night?¡±


    Demetrius scowled hard, trying to bore a hole in him with just his attitude. When he saw Quentin wasn¡¯t moving or even blinking, he looked away. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. I just don¡¯t want you to be taken advantage of by someone like that. I can probably find you a couple of older guys who won¡¯t mind spending their nights in such company. You got any specific kinds of people in mind?¡±


    Quentin relaxed a little. ¡°Whoever you get, they need to respect my girls and not look or talk down to them. They¡¯ll get a half off discount on their services, but if a girl doesn¡¯t want anything to do with them she doesn¡¯t have to do a godsdamned thing. We¡¯ll need one for the front room to check and keep any weapons my customers bring with them. Someone organized and not prone to starting or escalating things is preferable. The other will be in the main room, pretending to be a statue until he¡¯s needed. Pay is two castura a night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Demetrius grunted, ¡°I can definitely find the people you need. Question, though¡­¡± His craggy face split open into a shit eating grin. ¡°Does that discount apply to old friends?¡±


    ¡°For you, brother? Costs double.¡± Quentin broke out into a grin of his own and together they shared a good laugh that caught the attention of the rest of the training yard. Heads craned to look over at what got their grumpy bastard of a trainer laughing so hard, and Demetrius didn¡¯t bother to call them out for slacking. It seemed like a perfect time to ask, ¡°So what did you mean by told to reach out to me?¡±


    The smile on Demetrius¡¯ face vanished. He looked past Quentin to the rest of the yard and said, ¡°Not here. In my office. ALRIGHT LADIES,¡± he boomed, stepping into the center and attracting all of their attention. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a fifteen minute break. Get some water, rest your legs, catch your breath. When I come back, we¡¯re going to do it all over again.¡±


    They knew better than to groan or complain or even look disappointed. Quentin retrieved his cloak and followed Demetrius back into the cool darkness of the Colosseum. The head trainer¡¯s office was nothing like Quentin¡¯s. His was neat and orderly while Demetrius used his to store shit he didn¡¯t want to think about. There was enough room for one person to sit on either side of a desk. On that desk was an expensive looking bound book with notes on the gladiators Demetrius took.


    Demetrius grabbed a bottle of murky brown liquid and two small clay cups and poured for them both. ¡°Before I say anything else, I want you to know that there¡¯s almost nothing that could make me want to ask you back here.¡±


    That got Quentin¡¯s attention. ¡°Almost nothing? What, has Amicus changed his mind already and wants me back? I thought he¡¯d be happy with Cervenka¡¯s style of executions.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he is. He¡¯s happier than a beetle eating shit.¡± Demetrius threw his drink back, wincing at the burn. ¡°That sick fucker¡¯s making this place tons of shards. None of the gladiators watch the executions anymore. They¡¯re not really fights now. See, he dances around them and throws knives and axes at them, or uses his bolter to weaken ¡®em. Then he toys with them. Amicus loves it, but I guess even he has standards.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Quentin downed his alcohol, unable to stop the light cough that forced its way out of his throat after. He pounded his chest, eyes watering. ¡°Hoo, you drink this shit?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a time for good booze.¡± Demetrius poured them both some more before setting the bottle down and retrieving something from his desk. Quentin recognized it immediately. It was a writ of execution, like the hundreds he¡¯d seen and gone over in the past. ¡°Amicus asked me to contact you for you to do this execution specifically. He said, and I quote, ¡®the crowd loves a monster, but no crowd would ever love this. Better we get the freak to handle it rather than ruin the image of the Colosseum.¡¯¡±


    Wordlessly, Quentin took the writ and opened it. He scanned it quickly, skipping past the intro saluting the emperor and the justice system and went right to the condemned. It took him reading over it three times before the words really registered in his mind. ¡°Gods above and below, they can¡¯t be serious. There are laws against this!¡±


    Demetrius downed his liquor again, and this time spat on the ground when he was done. ¡°There are. Apparently the collateral damage was bad enough for them to ignore that just so they could have someone to blame and punish. The execution is in three days. I never wanted to ask you to come back, but¡­Brother, I¡¯d rather you do this than let Cervenka handle it. I don¡¯t know that he¡¯d make it bad, but I don¡¯t have much faith in the bastard.¡±


    His stomach turned over the idea. Out of all the people Quentin killed over the years, this would be a new low. It was then that he understood what Amicus wanted. It nearly made him burst out laughing, realizing that for the first time in the better part of a decade, Amicus was requesting honor and mercy. Quentin grabbed the cup of liquor and shot it down, embracing the pain this time. If he did this, he would hate himself for it. If he didn¡¯t, he¡¯d hate himself even more.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to, but I will. I can¡¯t let Cervenka handle this one.¡±


    ¡°I figured that¡¯d be the case,¡± Demetrius nodded.


    ¡°But if I¡¯m going to be here,¡± Quentin continued, ¡°I¡¯m going to need a favor from you. And it¡¯s not negotiable.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you need, brother. Whatever it takes for you to be the one who handles this.¡±

 Chapter 64: Spies Among Us

    Chapter 64: Spies Among Us


    Overall, Razia was quite satisfied with how things were going. Nearly a month of being open and everything was going better than expected. Things weren¡¯t perfect; there was the odd infighting among the girls. Mostly between Isa and Lynne. And Isa and Kelli. And Isa and Razia. But that was all minor and, honestly, familiar enough to hardly register as being problems.


    They were making more money than she had since Razia first arrived in Orchrisus, though most of it went into her debt to Quentin. Or rather, three quarters of it went to him and Razia pocketed the last bit for personal spending. It wasn¡¯t like Quentin made her pay for anything for their home or their business. It would be another few months before they were square, but Quentin either didn¡¯t keep track or care. He seemed happy enough to just be there.


    That was another thing. Spending every night together had honestly been great. Each night they spent drinking and laughing and playing games until the customers came in and they switched their attention. It became a simple dance of going in and out of conversations and bedrooms and coming back to a different combination of people. It rarely got dull, and Razia got to spend it with some of her favorite people in the world.


    The closest thing she could think of a downside was in all that time, things between her and Quentin remained in an odd stalemate, where the two would orbit each other, neither getting closer or further away. When he sat on his throne, she¡¯d sometimes sit in his lap to try to get a rise out of him. He¡¯d support her with an arm around her waist and the other across her legs, and for a little while it would be nice. But much like the times a client picked her for their evening¡¯s entertainment, his icy blue eyes would linger on her with a shadow of something deeper behind them, and he would do nothing.


    Truthfully, Razia didn¡¯t know what she was expecting, or even wanting. They were doing well, they were safe, and neither of them were denying their attraction to the other. It was starting to get a little frustrating, even knowing the cause behind Quentin¡¯s hesitation. There was a big difference between work and play, between the attention she showed her clients and the attention she showed her lovers. Things were becoming frustrating indeed.


    Which is why Razia reveled in her current task. She sat on the master bed in the Moonlit Garden, eyeing the applicant standing a few feet away. He was a slender, olive complexioned Mooran man with short dark hair and playful, secretive eyes. He had a soft, pleasing mouth that seemed locked to a permanent smirk that demanded her attention. The young man was pleasant to look at and he knew it, without the baggage of arrogance or smugness. He had the lazy, languid grace of a cat, even standing in place.


    He¡¯d introduced himself as Tenchi, and they¡¯d disappeared into the room to conduct the interview. Since then, Razia had motioned for him to stand in the middle of the room, while she sat back on the bed, hands splayed out behind her, propping her up. They¡¯d been like that for a few minutes now, neither one of them speaking. She¡¯d thought to see how long it would be before his composure cracked, but Tenchi stood there, tranquil and serene.


    ¡°How long have you been fucking people for money?¡± Razia said, finally breaking the silence.


    Tenchi inclined his head towards her and said, ¡°Sex for money? A couple years now. My company for gifts and treats? Four years. If it was just about fucking, it would be boring, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Ooh, she liked him. A smile spread across her face and the smirk on his grew. ¡°Too true. And in that time, what all would you do for your clients?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, wetting his lips, ¡°it depends what they wanted out of me. For most of them, it was to be romanced. Wined, dined, taken out for a nice time, made to feel like they were the only person in the world. And for those who treated me well and knew my worth, I¡¯d do anything they asked. Within reason, of course.¡± He had a smooth, light tenor and an even tone that drew the listener in. ¡°I served many men and women in my time. Few could complain, and even fewer would.¡±


    Ah, that was important. The majority of their clients were men, and some had walked away disappointed when they found out there were no men working the garden other than Quentin, who was very much off the table for everyone. Razia didn¡¯t think Tenchi would have any trouble attracting clients, but there were still certain things that were unfortunately important for male whores. ¡°Show me what you¡¯re working with,¡± Razia said, snapping a finger and pointing to the ground. ¡°Strip.¡±


    Tenchi didn¡¯t hesitate. He peeled off the vest he wore, showing his bare chest underneath. He was lithe, with enough muscle definition to look intriguing and not be skin and bones, and just a light spattering of black chest hair. Slipping out of his sandals, he pulled his trousers down and stepped out of them, standing nude and proud of it, with his hands resting on his hips.


    Razia¡¯s gaze slid downwards, to his navel and the V shape pointing downwards to his cock. Even flaccid he had enough to look good on first sight, with most of the hair around him trimmed neatly. It was darker than the rest of him, and Razia wondered how big he would be when aroused. She motioned with her finger for him to turn around. ¡°Bend over,¡± she said.


    The smirk on his face only grew as he did what he was told. Tenchi made a show of turning around and putting his hand on his thighs. He spread his legs and bent over, showing a small, tightly muscled ass. She could see him peeking from between his legs, looking amused. ¡°Do you see anything you think your customers will like?¡± he asked. ¡°Anything you like?¡±


    Razia chuckled. ¡°Yes and yes. I think you¡¯ve got something we can work with. You can get dressed now, if you want.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡±


    She let out a soft, wistful sigh. It¡¯d been a while since she¡¯d done anything fun for herself. It was Quentin¡¯s prerogative to not test out the new hires, but that didn¡¯t mean it had to be hers. Still, one didn¡¯t sate a craving for savory with something sweet. Razia could afford to be a little more patient. ¡°If you don¡¯t, then I have no problem with conducting the rest of this interview with you naked. My next question is, what are your hard limits?¡±


    Tenchi straightened up and turned around. He stood with his legs apart, hands clasped behind his back and staring straight at her. ¡°The usuals. I won¡¯t have anything to do with piss or shit, nothing that will permanently harm me, and absolutely nothing involving children. Past that? I consider myself a trysexual.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll try anything once?¡± Razia shook her head laughing. ¡°Then we¡¯re much alike. Honestly Tenchi, I think you¡¯d be a good fit for the Moonlit Garden. Is there anything --¡± she was interrupted by a knock on the door. ¡°Yes?¡± she called out.


    Samantha opened the door. Right behind her was a tall, well muscled mercenary. He had the easy look of a wary predator and a dark edge in his eyes. His eyes slid between Razia and the naked Tenchi, darkening a bit. ¡°Oh, sorry, didn¡¯t mean to interrupt,¡± said Samantha. ¡°This gentleman wants to see you. Says it¡¯s urgent.¡±


    ¡°Urgent, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of Mr. Cicero,¡± the man said in a low, oily voice. ¡°Unless you¡¯re too busy for him?¡±


    Even knowing he was just testing her, Razia was alarmed. ¡°No no, not at all. We¡¯re always happy to help out Mr. Cicero and his associates. Tenchi, please go wait out in the atrium while I take care of this.¡±


    The mooran man bowed to her and walked out, naked as the day he was born. Samantha and the merc got out of his way, with Samantha¡¯s eyes lingering on him as he passed her. She followed him, while the man closed the door and took Tenchi¡¯s spot. He kicked at the clothes on the floor and looked up at her, eyebrow raised.


    ¡°New employee,¡± Razia said, as if that explained anything. ¡°How can I help you, and by extension, Mr. Cicero?¡± Inwardly, she hoped it was nothing big and he would leave quickly and quietly. She hadn¡¯t forgotten her deal with the crime lord, but so far he hadn¡¯t come to collect.


    ¡°We¡¯re here for the information you promised him,¡± he said, snapping his fingers at her. ¡°The details of your customers. You got it handy, or am I going to have to go back to him and explain?¡± He didn¡¯t seem especially cruel, but he was curt and to the point.


    ¡°I have it, not a problem.¡± Razia fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the drawer on the nightstand. This was her room to work in for the most part, even if she didn¡¯t need to stay in it. It still seemed like the best place to hide the information. There was no chance Quentin would stumble on it, and if any of the girls did Razia would be the first to know about it and able to intercept it. She reached in and pulled out a couple of scrolls of paper, tightly wound up.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Everything¡¯s in here,¡± she said. ¡°Every customer since we¡¯ve opened, their occupations, and how much they¡¯ve spent while here.¡± It had been easy enough to write the information down, saying it was good to keep records and notice trends in when people came and went. Quentin hadn¡¯t questioned that logic, and it burned how easy it was to get away with it. ¡°It¡¯s everything he and I agreed on. Almost.¡±


    The merc took it from her, eyeing it like he wanted to open it up and check it over. Eventually he just shrugged and said, ¡°Almost?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Cicero said he¡¯d be sending someone to work here as a spy,¡± she said. ¡°Someone to collect more information for him so I wouldn¡¯t have to.¡±


    He just shrugged. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t know anything about that. The left hand doesn¡¯t know what the right hand¡¯s up to, and all that.¡± Without another word he walked out the door, leaving Razia alone with her thoughts.


    The terms of their agreement were pretty simple, all things considered. Names and services rendered, and a plant to gather her own information. So far, they hadn¡¯t really hired anyone extra, other than Kelli. But was she a spy? Razia went to the door and peeked out of it, looking out on the seating area beside the skylight and between the ring of rooms.


    Tenchi stood there, still naked and chatting with Samantha. The plump woman had a light flush to her face and seemed to be enjoying herself. On the couches closest to Razia, Kelli and Jenna sat. They were spending more and more time together, and while she was glad for Jenna to have someone to finally replace Amy, she didn¡¯t know where they stood with Kelli.


    The girl was brash, opinionated, loud, and honestly kind of dim. Small minded. She asked a lot of questions and¡­Razia sighed. Yes, she was probably the spy, come to think of it. Who else could it be? Quentin was out now seeing about getting them some additional security to take some of the pressure off of him, and she was handling a couple of interviews before they opened for the night. There hadn¡¯t been any other opportunities to plant someone among them, unless Cicero was biding his time and sent Tenchi along.


    That was a possibility she wasn¡¯t willing to rule out entirely, but her gut told her it was Kelli. It was the little things, the way that she needled all of them and then backed off, the times she would say something about one of them when they weren¡¯t around, and the questions. So many questions about Razia herself, while she avoided speaking to her directly. She had a bad feeling about her from the start, but she¡¯d written it off as false with how petty and kind of dumb the woman seemed. A perfect trait in a spy.


    Heads turned as footsteps came from the direction of the garden. Quentin came trudging up, looking utterly haunted. The rest of the room greeted him but Quentin seemed to not hear much of it. He met Razia¡¯s gaze and it was enough to make her feel cold and worried. She came up to him and whispered, ¡°is everything okay?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°Not really. Things are¡­Well, there¡¯s good news, at least.¡± He smiled sadly.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Razia, putting a hand on his arm and letting it rest there. It was amazing what little touches could do to ease some of his tension. He leaned a little closer and said, ¡°Demetrius is going to help us find a few people to look after the place. He says he thinks he can find someone who fits our criteria and will like our pay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hope so,¡± Razia scoffed. ¡°For just a few hours of work it¡¯s damned good pay.¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Quentin continued, ¡°Three days from now he and Jonas will look after the Garden for me.¡±


    ¡°Well, good. That¡¯ll¡­wait.¡± Razia realized what he was saying. ¡°Why? Where will you be?¡±


    The pain on his face deepened. He gently pulled on her hand and brought him into the bathroom, away from everyone else. Some of the girls¡¯ clothes lay strewn there, forgotten after the morning¡¯s bath. She¡¯d need to remind them to clean up after themselves, especially if clients wanted to use it. Quentin stopped when he was sure there was no one else around. ¡°They need me at the Colosseum for a night,¡± he said.


    It took a few seconds for his words to truly register with her. Irritation bubbled up and boiled over. ¡°What? After the shit they pulled with Maria? After the way they¡¯ve treated you for years? Why the hell would you go back to them? You don¡¯t need them anymore Quentin.¡± Heat flooded to her cheeks. It wasn¡¯t that she thought there was a possibility of him losing so much as him losing himself if he had to go back to doing that. He was so much happier now.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, letting out a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t need them, but they need me. If I don¡¯t do it, Cervenka will. Amicus refused to let that happen, and I won¡¯t either.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so important about this job? Who is it that¡¯s so important you have to be the one to kill them?¡±


    His eyes dropped to the ground. ¡°An eight year old girl.¡±


    Silence.


    All her anger faded away, replaced with shock and disgust. ¡°Are you serious?¡± Razia gaped. ¡°You can¡¯t be. Who in their right minds would have you murder a fucking child?¡±


    ¡°The fair and impartial Orchrisus courts,¡± Quentin deadpanned. ¡°She was found guilty of arson and the murder of nearly a dozen people due to the fire she started. It was¡­It was just some dumb kid, playing with a lantern. She dropped it and the inn caught fire. She ran away, and was too young and too scared to warn anyone about it.¡±


    ¡°How did they even know it was her?¡± Razia demanded.


    ¡°Because,¡± Quentin took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice cracked a little. ¡°When the inn burned down, her mother was inside. When the fire brigade came by she was sobbing about how sorry she was. They questioned her, found out what happened, and the courts decided they needed someone to blame and punish for it.¡±


    ¡°Quentin¡­¡± Razia swallowed a lump in her throat. ¡°You can¡¯t do this, Quentin. You can¡¯t kill a child.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Quentin snapped, voice raising. ¡°If I don¡¯t do it, they¡¯ll give her to Cervenka. He¡¯ll torture her. She¡¯ll spend her last moments alive in pain and scared out of her mind. If I do it, I can make it fast. She won¡¯t suffer. Didn¡¯t you say that could be my gift, Razia? That¡¯s what I am. I¡¯m a killer. And whether you like it or not, three days from now I¡¯m going to leave for the night and murder a child so someone worse doesn¡¯t do it.¡±


    It was like being slapped in the face, hearing him say it like that. Her eyes burned and her next breath caught in her throat. She swallowed again, but it wasn¡¯t doing anything. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. ¡°How are you going to live with yourself after that?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know,¡± he croaked. Quentin stared at the floor, unwilling or unable to look at her. ¡°Will you hate me?¡± he asked all of a sudden. ¡°I don¡¯t care about what anyone else thinks of me, but will you hate me for this?¡±


    ¡°Gods Quentin,¡± she said, heart breaking. ¡°Of course not. I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    Quentin took a shuddering breath, and she realized he was near tears as well. She¡¯d only seen him cry a couple of times, and he always tried to hide it. It was one of the first things that really showed her how different he was. Despite his years in the arena, he was still human. He was still a person who felt things deeply and he carried it all, hidden away from the world. ¡°I¡¯m going to hate me for this,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯d hate myself more if I don¡¯t do it.¡±


    Razia carefully closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. A second later, he hugged her back, squeezing her tight while he struggled to control his breathing and not break down. She held him there, saying nothing for a few minutes. Razia let him be the one to choose when it ended, when they spoke. It was the best way she had to help him.


    ¡°I might need you,¡± he said. ¡°When I return.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you need of me, you¡¯ll have it,¡± Razia whispered, her cheek against his. ¡°We can close up for the night when you get home. It¡¯ll just be me, you, a couple bottles of wine, and we¡¯ll just hurt together if we have to. For as long as you need.¡±


    Quentin pulled back and finally looked at her. He blinked away unshed tears and was stable. There was a look in his eyes there, something like gratitude and¡­and longing. Razia offered him her best, gentle, reassuring smile. His hand went up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it, keeping her eyes on his. This was it. She knew the look on his face, and had seen it countless times. He was finally going to make a move.


    He angled his head forward, resting his forehead against hers. Razia let out a sigh and tilted her head up, closing most of the distance between the two of them. All he had to do was reach out and kiss her. It wouldn¡¯t be the best circumstances for it, but maybe it would bring him some comfort, some joy, some feeling of being connected and accepted. Proof that even if he killed a child, she understood and wouldn¡¯t blame him.


    A loud squeak of sandals on tile startled them. Kelli stood there, looking at the two of them with her mouth in a silent O. ¡°Shit, is this a bad time?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Razia said through clenched teeth. ¡°A really bad time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll¡­I¡¯ll come back later.¡± Kelli backed up until she was out of sight. Razia was about ready to fire her on the spot, Cicero be damned, when she realized there was no way of knowing how much the girl overheard, if any. Whatever, it didn¡¯t matter. Mr. Cicero knew what Quentin did before meeting her, and he had no reason to hold that information over their heads. Razia would give it a few days and then confront Kelli about it. After the¡­after the execution.


    Quentin pulled away from her and Razia knew the moment was lost. It was closer than they¡¯d come in quite a while, but she knew from the neutral mask he wore that he¡¯d be too embarrassed, too stuck in his head to try again and it wouldn¡¯t count if she was the one who did it. ¡°I might want to keep to myself tonight,¡± he said quietly.


    Razia forced a smile on her face. She cupped his cheek much like he had hers and said, ¡°Do what you need to do to be okay, Quentin. I¡¯ll take care of everything else tonight, and when¡­when you do it, I¡¯ll be here to share that burden.¡±


    When it came down to it, that was what she did. She provided comfort and companionship, and even if Quentin wasn¡¯t ready for anything else, she would have all of her that he would accept. It was the least, and the most, she could do for him for now.

 Chapter 65: Voice of Treason

    Chapter 65: Voice of Treason


    It hadn¡¯t been too hard to slip away from Jenna, but she still had to wait. Even Jenna, as dumb as she could be, would notice if Kelli took off after Quentin and Razia as soon as they passed. She waited until Jenna took a breath and then blurted out her need to pee. Razia had been right about one thing and wrong about another; Kelli was definitely a spy, but she didn¡¯t work for Mr. Cicero.


    The unfortunate part was coming in halfway through the conversation. Maybe with time Kelli could piece together what she had missed, but it wouldn¡¯t help with her unique gift. She had to hear it directly from them in order to make use of it. Still, she had her ears open and mouth shut as she hid around the corner and listened.


    ¡°Quentin¡­You can¡¯t do this. You can¡¯t kill a child.¡±


    Oh jackpot. Kelli fought to keep from giggling. It seemed like she got there at the perfect time. It only got better when the thick headed moonkissed bastard continued on.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Quentin snapped, voice raising. ¡°If I don¡¯t do it, they¡¯ll give her to Cervenka. He¡¯ll torture her. She¡¯ll spend her last moments alive in pain and scared out of her mind. If I do it, I can make it fast. She won¡¯t suffer. Didn¡¯t you say that could be my gift, Razia? This is what I am. I¡¯m a killer. And whether you like it or not, three days from now I¡¯m going to leave for the night and murder a child so someone worse doesn¡¯t do it.¡±


    Oh boy, it looked like someone wasn¡¯t as retired as he thought. This was juicy, this was delicious, this was perfect. Two weeks of having to play the role of a whore was going to be worth it when she reported back in with this. It had been frustrating at first, looking for weaknesses and finding little. The garden and courtyard were no good for her purposes, and the only remaining entrance in or out of the villa would severely limit a crew from entering inside. When they did, they¡¯d contend with the pimp, who if the other girls were to be believed, was more than capable of handling a group of men.


    Not unlike the sluts here. Kelli bit her lip, breathing hard with excitement. Maybe this would finally be over and she could put her talents to better use elsewhere. Someplace where she didn¡¯t have to fight to avoid falling asleep while sweaty merchants fucked her.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Razia asked. ¡°How are you going to live with yourself after that?¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know,¡± he croaked. ¡°Will you hate me? I don¡¯t care about what anyone else thinks of me, but will you hate me for this?¡±


    Oh, gag. In all her time of spying, she¡¯d only run across murderers with a heart on a handful of occasions. Some of them were just in denial about who and what they were, others acted like feeling bad about it made them better than those who just shrugged it off and did their job. Some were honestly just saps and Kelli was willing to believe that Quentin was the latter. It lined up with what all the other girls said about him, and what she was hearing now.


    Their voices dropped to just a whisper. Kelli strained to hear what was being said, but in the end it didn¡¯t matter. She had what she needed. Three days from now, the Moonlit Garden would be undefended. Three days from now, they could strike and be done with this mess. Then it would be time for a nice, long, comfortable vacation doing as little as possible. Maybe she¡¯d hustle some rubes in a tavern for some money by pretending to sing. Not like anyone would know the difference. She peeked her head around the corner.


    Aww, how cute. The killer and the whore were staring at each other tenderly, ready to kiss. Kelli shifted and her sandal squeaked on the tile. She froze in place as both of them whirled around to face her. She didn¡¯t have to fake the surprise she felt. ¡°Shit. Is this a bad time?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Razia said through clenched teeth. ¡°A really bad time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll¡­I¡¯ll come back later.¡± Kelli backed up slowly, like she was moving away from dangerous animals she didn¡¯t want to provoke. When she slipped out of sight she let out a sigh of relief. That was probably suspicious, but in three days it wouldn¡¯t matter. All she had to do was make it through tonight and deliver the information and everything would be great. She fingered the ring on her right hand and twisted the gem in place. The ring in her hand warmed, letting her know it was working and the wearer of the other ring would know she needed to talk.


    ¡°Whew, much better,¡± she said, sliding back onto the couch with Jenna. The gossip-monger smiled at her return, and Kelli didn¡¯t have to fake her own giddy smile. The only girl in there who seemed to like her, and she was an annoying twit who wouldn¡¯t stop talking once you got her started. Everyone had given her some information, but Jenna had offered it all up on a silver platter. ¡°Where were we?¡±


    ¡°We were talking about going to see a play in a few days,¡± Jenna said brightly. ¡°Maybe before the Garden opens. Since it¡¯s spring, it¡¯s comedy and romance season. What do you think we should go for?¡±


    ¡°Oh, easy,¡± said Kelli. ¡°Comedy for sure. I¡¯ve had all I can take of romance.¡±


    The rest of the night passed without incident. For a split second Kelli had worried that being spotted was going to cost her when Razia came out and stared at her long and hard for a few seconds, but that had passed and it was easy enough to just ignore the bald bitch for the last couple of hours before Quentin declared that they were done for the night early and it was time to divvy up pay.


    ¡°Four castura to you,¡± said Razia, dumping a big handful of shards into Kelli¡¯s purse. ¡°Not a very big night for you, was it?¡±


    Kelli took the money with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. Easiest money of my life.¡± Maybe it would be laying it on a bit thick, but she added, ¡°I wanted to thank you for this opportunity. I know I can be a bit much, but I¡¯ve learned so much while I¡¯m here and I think it¡¯s changed my life.¡±


    The islander¡¯s eyes narrowed. If she was suspicious she didn¡¯t say anything about it. Instead, she put on a false smile and said, ¡°I¡¯m glad we could be here for you.¡±


    Then Kelli stepped away, and headed for the exit. Jenna intercepted her before she left. ¡°Want to grab a couple of drinks?¡±


    Kelli shook her head. ¡°Actually, if you don¡¯t mind, I was going to go for a walk. You remember that one guy who pinched my ass and I slapped him?¡± Jenna nodded that she did. ¡°He met up with me and he¡¯s actually not that bad. I thought I might see him again tonight.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh,¡± Jenna cooed, looking excited for her. ¡°Let me know how it goes.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡± Kelli smiled and walked, not ran, out the front door. Gods, this was it. She was home free. None of them expected anything and no one was going to stop her from reporting in. It was time for the best payday of her life. Once the block of villas was out of sight, Kelli let out a giddy laugh and headed south, taking every turn she could and then going easy for a while to shake off any potential tails. Eventually satisfied that there was no one following her, she made her way for the great bridge that led to the south side.


    It was still early in the night, and plenty safe to be a woman traveling alone. She kept to the more brightly lit areas and stayed near the Watch when she saw them, smiling at them and murmuring a greeting when one made eye contact with her. Before too long she was on the other side of the bridge, firmly in Warlord territory. It was only a few more minutes walking after that before she got too close to the tavern she agreed to meet at and was stopped.


    ¡°Hold it,¡± a mustachioed man with a line of glass daggers on his belt said, blocking her way. ¡°This is a private club, and you don¡¯t look like one of us.¡± From all around them, men watched, waiting for now but ready to pounce on her if she didn¡¯t take the polite warning and leave.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Kelli just rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. When she spoke, it wasn¡¯t with her voice. A high pitched, breathy, excitable man¡¯s voice came out instead. ¡°If any of my boys give you any trouble, let them know that Piro demanded that you be let in.¡±


    The reaction, like usual, was as sudden as it was funny. The guy flinched at hearing his boss¡¯ voice come from her. Just to add to it she added, in Christophe¡¯s sulky, oily voice, ¡°And if any of them give you trouble they¡¯ll be answering to me for it. They know better.¡±


    The men around them closed in until there was no way back and no way forward. They all looked surprised and on edge, like it was some kind of a trick. Kelli rolled her eyes and groaned. ¡°Just take me to Piro and he¡¯ll decide whether or not this is a good idea. You can do that, can¡¯t you? C¡¯mon, I¡¯m in a hurry.¡±


    The man in front of her flinched and then nodded. ¡°Yeah, fine. But if they don¡¯t know you, you and I are going to have a long, private conversation,¡± he leered.


    She rolled her eyes and repeated what he said back to her in his own voice. The leer faltered. He motioned with his head for her to follow and he brought her the rest of the way to the tavern, with the other men following behind. He opened the swinging doors and ushered her inside.


    The thing about gang taverns is they were often run down and in poor repair, but in a way that felt comfortably lived in and homey. At least, that¡¯s what she thought they were going for. The place was filthy and its clientele mostly teens and men in their twenties and a handful of gutter trash women sucking up to them. All eyes were on her as she was led to the back room. A knock on the door and a quick muttered conversation later, she was ushered inside.


    Sitting inside with his back to the wall was Piro Pentius and at his side was Christophe, taking up a couple of chairs and sitting as tall as most people were standing. His long hair and beard looked washed compared to last time she saw him. His dark, empty eyes met her as he brought a cup up to his mouth and drank. Piro stood up, hands spread out and said, ¡°Look who it is! Kelli, Kelli, Kelli, please come in and tell me you have good news for me.¡±


    ¡°That depends,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°Do you have good money for me? This job has sucked a fat one. Literally, in some cases.¡±


    ¡°I assume you were paid for the sucking,¡± said Christophe. ¡°If so, why the fuck are you complaining about it? You knew what you were in for.¡±


    ¡°Christophe, please,¡± Piro said in an indulgent voice. ¡°She¡¯s just busting our balls, now aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Kelli nodded, shrugging. ¡°Mostly. I do have good news, though. You¡¯re finally going to get your chance to get your hands around Razia¡¯s throat, and you¡¯re going to do it without any resistance. Your main threat won¡¯t be there.¡±


    ¡°The moonkissed mercenary?¡± said Christophe. ¡°What¡¯s going on with him?¡±


    Before she answered, Kelli sat down across from Piro and leaned back on the chair, kicking her feet up. ¡°Well for starters, Quentin won¡¯t be there.¡± She cleared her throat and Quentin¡¯s voice came out of her mouth, ¡°And whether you like it or not, three days from now I¡¯m leaving for the night and I¡¯m going to murder a child.¡±


    Piro let out a low whistle. ¡°Wow, he just came right out and said it?¡± He shook his head. ¡°This is excellent news. It won¡¯t be any effort at all to plan a quick smash and grab, right brother?¡±


    Christophe shook his head, smiling darkly. ¡°No, the hardest part will be the trip from the whorehouse to the bridge. Once we¡¯ve got her over the bridge, our people will be there to handle any problems that arise. We can arrange for a few of our Watchmen to be active around that time, just in case there¡¯s trouble. Cicero won¡¯t even know we were there until after we¡¯re gone. When she gets here, I want first crack at her.¡±


    Piro¡¯s face twitched for a second. It was subtle, but Kelli was trained to look out for that sort of thing. He hated that idea. ¡°How bad you going to hurt her?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Why?¡± Christophe turned his glittery black eyes to her. It made her want to shiver. ¡°You having qualms of conscience all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Kelli scoffed. ¡°Whatever you do to her, I hope it lasts a while. She¡¯s a smug, self righteous, pretentious bitch. You won¡¯t believe the kind of shit we have to listen to before we open up for the night. Like¡­¡± Kelli screwed up her face for a second, and then put a horribly fake smile on her face and fluttered her eyelashes.


    ¡°Remember, what we do here is healing. It doesn¡¯t matter if our clients are young, old, gross, handsome, we need to make them feel wanted and seen. That¡¯s your real job, the sex is secondary.¡±


    Their reaction to hearing Razia¡¯s voice was interesting. Piro¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement and a genuine, boyish look of jovial surprise spread across his face. Christophe, on the other hand, gripped his cup so hard it shattered, spilling the remains of his drink on the table. ¡°That¡¯s her,¡± he growled. He grabbed a rag and cleaned his hands off and snapped his fingers. One of their nearby sycophants gave him their cup. ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t wait to see the look on her face when she realizes there¡¯s nowhere to go and no one coming for her.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s discuss that later, at length,¡± said Piro. ¡°There might be some useful information to extract from her before you get to have your fun. Better to be safer than sorry, and all that. The important thing is we¡¯ll both get our pound of flesh from her and everything will go back to the way it should be.¡±


    Kelli yawned. ¡°I¡¯m happy for you two, I really am,¡± she said. ¡°But this is enough, right? You don¡¯t need me there anymore, so I¡¯d like to take my money and leave. If I have to have one more middle aged man on top of me I¡¯m going to scream.¡±


    Piro and Christophe shared a look. Oh, how Kelli hated that look. It was only for a second, but she knew a silent conversation when she saw one and this was something they had both expected and talked about without her. ¡°Not so fast,¡± said Christophe. ¡°You¡¯re not done until we say you¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°That is to say,¡± Piro laughed, ¡°you¡¯re needed for just a little bit longer. If you were to leave now and not show up, it might spook them. Besides, we¡¯re going to need you to be there in three days to give the signal that we¡¯re good to move. When is the mercenary, this Quentin character, going to be gone?¡±


    Kelli shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I figured for at least half the night. If he¡¯s really going to be out killing some kid, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to rub elbows with people in a whorehouse and then step out for some light murder after. I expect he won¡¯t be there when they open.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s another thing,¡± Piro said, snapping and pointing at her. ¡°Why is he going to kill a kid? Who¡¯s paying him to do that? Who is this guy?¡±


    ¡°I think he works for Mr. Cicero,¡± Jenna¡¯s voice said. In her own, she added, ¡°I got a bunch of rumors out of the girls and a couple of personal stories about him. The majority of them believe he¡¯s a killer for hire that works or worked for Mr. Cicero. The Moonlit Garden was a gift to him as a reward for years of service. Word is, Razia is clinging to Cicero for protection and he put Quentin on the task. She¡¯s got him by the balls and obedient to her.¡±


    ¡°Got him by the balls, huh?¡± Christophe looked pointedly at Piro. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine that happening. It¡¯s almost like she¡¯s good at charming weak willed -- ¡°


    ¡°Yes yes, I was thinking with my dick and it got us in some trouble,¡± Piro waved him off, looking unbothered. ¡°The important thing is we¡¯re fixing it.¡±


    ¡°Says the guy who hasn¡¯t been forced to live in a shack for three months,¡± Christophe growled.


    ¡°ANYWAY, what else can you tell us about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a big guy,¡± said Kelli. She motioned towards Christophe, ¡°Not as big as you, but big. He¡¯s always frowning, even when he smiles, and he¡¯s often quiet while the rest of them are talking, just watching. Honestly surprised he¡¯s killing a kid given how he acts around the girls, but every single one of them believes he¡¯s a killer. According to them, they¡¯ve seen him fight entire groups of men on his own and win. I doubt it¡¯s something your boys will have a problem with, but you probably shouldn¡¯t underestimate him either. Now, about my money¡­¡±


    Sighing, Piro pulled out his purse. He fished out ten aquilo pieces and slid them across the table. ¡°For your services so far. You¡¯ll get the rest when I have Razia back.¡±


    Kelli glared at him. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the deal, Piro. You wanted information, I got you information. I got you more than you expected or could¡¯ve dreamed. I¡¯m practically gifting this bitch to you, and you -- hey!¡±


    The two of them shared another look, then Christophe¡¯s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her forward until she was sprawled out across the table. Panic ate at her, sudden and uncontrolled as she was pinned down with her arm at a very unpleasant angle. ¡°And now we¡¯re changing the deal,¡± Christophe said. ¡°You got a problem with that?¡±


    Kelli shook her head.


    ¡°Good.¡± Christophe released her.


    Piro poured her a cup of wine and slid it across the table. She took it in shaking hands and took a drink of it, recognizing it as the conciliatory gesture it was. ¡°Yeah, sorry about that,¡± Piro said, sounding anything but. ¡°We need more from you. Three days from now you¡¯ll show up to work as if nothing is wrong and you¡¯ll wait. When you¡¯re absolutely sure Quentin won¡¯t be there, you¡¯re going to twist the ring and then my men will take care of it.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± she said quietly, looking anywhere but at them. ¡°And then you¡¯ll pay me the rest?¡±


    ¡°Cross our hearts and hope to die,¡± said Piro. ¡°But for now, I want to hear everything you¡¯ve got. Straight from the whores¡¯ mouth. Tell us everything your new friends have said.¡±

 Chapter 66: Losing Streak

    Chapter 66: Losing Streak


    It was strange, putting the mask back on. The armor, the weapon, even the helmet, those were all fine and normal. Quentin had worn them all for thousands of hours while training throughout the years. It was the skull mask that completed his costume. Everything up until then was like reliving an old dream. Putting the mask back on and feeling his breath come out as a hiss made it real.


    Gladiators were notoriously vain people, obsessed with glory and image. The locker room had a wall that was one giant full length mirror. Quentin stood in front of it and stared at himself through the eyeholes. Gods, had he really spent hundreds of fights with vision this limited? He twisted and turned and sure enough, the Butcher stared back at him through the mirror. Just a few nights ago he was wearing a nice new toga that made him look like a rich, soft bastard, and here he was looking like death incarnate again. It was absurd.


    Once upon a time there may have been joy at this, coming back to his job after weeks of being on the bench. It was hard to feel joy when this wasn¡¯t going to be a fight, or even a peaceful execution. This was a godsdamned tragedy, a cruel farce of the courts. The thought lay in wait, ready to pounce on him any time his thoughts strayed from the horrible thing he was about to do. That dark, cruel, punishment-happy part of him that liked to whisper in his ear would accept no happiness, no relief, nothing short of guilt and misery for days now. Who knew how much longer after the fact it would linger and haunt him?


    A couple of the gladiators came into the locker room and slowed to a stop upon seeing him. Their fights were over now, and it was about time for Cervenka to begin. They stood apart from Quentin, distinctly uncomfortable. He nodded politely towards them and headed in their direction. They shifted out of his way and let him leave the locker room without a word. It was better for everyone if he left. It was back to this again. What would his girls think if they saw others reacting like this? How would they react if they saw him like this?


    Quentin put that aside and made his way through the corridors, doing his best to ignore the sting of reliving the way people used to treat him. He made his way down to the holding cells and up the ramp that led to the arena. He got there just in time to hear the start of Amicus¡¯ announcements.


    ¡°The moment you¡¯ve all been waiting for!¡± Amicus crowed. ¡°The battles are fought and done, and now it¡¯s time for some punishment. The monsters are hungry, and we¡¯ve got fresh prey for them tonight! Welcome in your favorite executioner as he toys with his food for your enjoyment. Bursting out onto the sand, we¡¯ve got the DEATHHAWK!¡±


    The sound of the crowd erupting with screams and applause was the closest Quentin came to feeling a hint of enjoyment over it all. Things had been so blessedly quiet he¡¯d nearly forgotten what a rush an audience could be, and he wasn¡¯t even out there yet. Then again, if anyone screamed for him and what he was going to do, it would just be sickening. A blur ran across the sands and onto the center stone ring. Quentin blinked and pressed his face up against the bars to get a better look.


    Cervenka rotated in the center of the arena, fists held high as he soaked in the adulation. He mimed cupping his ears to hear it all better and even did a stupid little dance. Quentin¡¯s lip curled. What an embarrassing display. Cervenka finished it off by pulling a couple of thin knives from his belt and holding them in both hands, posing as ready for action.


    Another dark blob came across the sands, getting more clear the closer they got. It was a woman and two guards. The woman was fighting, struggling to get away while they all but dragged her and threw her down onto the stone and retreated. They were already behind the gate when she managed to get up and run after them. Quentin couldn¡¯t hear her over the sound of the crowd, but he believed she was screaming and probably begging to be let back in. That happened, sometimes. Quentin had a feeling it happened more often now.


    ¡°Poor, poor Sara, the child killer. Smothered her daughter when she was just an infant and got caught throwing the body in the river. And now she¡¯s going to die for it. Can we have some sympathetic tears for the poor woman?¡±


    The crowd laughed and booed her. Quentin couldn¡¯t see her very well anymore, but he could well imagine what was going through her head. The slow realization that it was only going to get worse, and there was no hope left. His stomach churned. Had he really taken part in this for years? No. He did it better than this. Amicus was a bastard, but it was always more playful and just showmanship for his matches. But then, this wasn¡¯t going to be a match. Amicus only confirmed it seconds later.


    ¡°Our poor little murderous woman neglected to choose a weapon for this match. Good thing the Death Hawk has plenty to offer her!¡± He paused to let the crowd laugh. ¡°She¡¯ll be able to defend herself if she picks up one of the knives thrown her way, won¡¯t she? On your mark, Executioner! KILL!¡±


    Cervenka ran at the woman, who turned around and screamed. She took off away from him, and Cervenka let her. Even Quentin could see he was faster than her, but he stayed on her heels as she fought to put distance between them. She pivoted and crossed the stone ring. That was when the executioner threw the first knife. It sunk into the soft meat of her arm. She clutched her arm to her side and made the mistake of pulling it out. Blood poured freely from the wound. She was on a timer now.


    Quentin wanted to look away, but found he couldn¡¯t. This was what he did, it would be cowardly to turn away from it. Cervenka may have been crueler than he was, but that didn¡¯t mean Quentin wasn¡¯t cruel as well. He thought of one of his final executions, Antonio¡­Something. Gods, why couldn¡¯t he remember? He¡¯d taunted and tormented him and taken joy in his fear before beating him to a pulp and stabbing him. Cervenka threw another knife into the woman¡¯s other arm. She pulled it out and this one she kept, turning around.


    ¡°Ooh, look at this. Is the poor child murderer going to stand her ground and fight?¡±


    Sara knew she was going to lose, and this was the point where she realized she had nothing left but the minuscule chance to fight. She swung the knife in a wide arc at Cervenka, who just leaned back out of the way. She advanced on him swinging wildly. He pulled a hatchet from his belt and swung it into her arm. The knife clattered to the ground. Cervenka yanked the ax out and held it up for the audience¡¯s approval. The woman fell to the ground screaming.


    She looked up at him, and although Quentin couldn¡¯t see her face clearly he could picture the fear and loathing. His hands gripped the bars tight enough to hurt. This was the point where the fight would end. This was when the fight should end. Cervenka disagreed. He slammed his foot into her face and sent her sprawling backwards. The prisoner slowly, weakly rolled onto her front and crawled away. Cervenka flung the hatchet at her. It landed in the small of her back, too small and too shallow to kill her but enough to keep her down.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What¡¯s it going to be, DeathHawk? A fast, clean kill, or¡­Oh no, he doesn¡¯t look like he wants it fast. He¡¯s going to make it hurt!¡±


    Cervenka pulled another knife from his belt. He sauntered over to the woman, every movement exaggerated for some sick sense of comedy. Once he got to her, he grabbed Sara by the hair and pulled her head back. The knife went to her forehead. Quentin realized what he was about to do right as Cervenka sliced into her scalp.


    Quentin looked away. He couldn¡¯t do this. He may have been a killer, but he wasn¡¯t a torturer. Not even on his worst day would he draw out someone¡¯s suffering like this. The very thought made him want to throw up. The crowd screamed again, but Quentin pushed it out of his head. He focused on his breathing, fighting to keep it slow and even, fighting to avoid freaking out or giving into his anger. He closed his eyes and breathed.


    Dimly, he heard Amicus again, but the words were muffled and unimportant. The crowd was unimportant. Were they always this bloodthirsty, or did Cervenka bring out the worst in people? Quentin certainly felt like a worse person around him. It didn¡¯t matter. This wasn¡¯t him. Not anymore. He didn¡¯t have to let it be this way. This would be one last awful kill and then he could go back to his girls.


    The gates shifted, startling Quentin back to the present. He stepped out of the way as they swung outward. Cervenka came strolling his way, hands and armor covered in blood. Quentin leaned against the mural of the Darkstar, staring ahead and trying to keep his head on straight. Cervenka headed straight for him.


    ¡°I cannot believe how fun this all is!¡± he gushed.


    Quentin said nothing.


    ¡°You¡¯ve really been hogging the job for too long. It was definitely getting boring before I came along. Did you hear how the crowd went nuts? They LOVE me!¡±


    A group of slaves came up the ramp with a stretcher to collect Sara¡¯s body. Quentin stayed silent, keeping his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes down. He wanted nothing more than to grab Cervenka by the neck and squeeze until the bastard felt even one tenth the fear his victims did. He smiled. That would be a better ending to the night. The slaves came back down and Quentin strode up into the arena before Amicus could even announce him.


    ¡°Oh, and look who we brought back, ladies and gentleman! Gone but not forgotten, the Butcher has returned for a very special event. You all remember the fire last week that burned down a block of homes down in the lower east side? We have the responsible party, and tonight they die. A gift to the most depraved, insatiable killer the Colosseum has ever seen.¡±


    Gods, was he really going to act like Quentin was worse than Cervenka? Of course he was. Quentin put his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting. The crowd cheered for him, but nothing about it brought him any sort of pleasure. The unpleasant truth was they were always this bloodthirsty, and they would¡¯ve maybe loved him more if he was crueler. How could he ever want the approval of people like that? If he wasn¡¯t wearing this stupid mask, Quentin would¡¯ve spit on the ground.


    The gates opposite him opened and the same two guards brought up a small, dark haired girl. Normally the prisoner¡¯s names were happily read to the public, but as this was a child with a surviving relative, they didn¡¯t. It was as close as the courts and Colosseum came to kindness. Quentin hadn¡¯t even seen her name. Part of him wished he knew it, if only so someone could honor her life. The other part was grateful. Maybe he could bury this deep and never think about it again.


    ¡°The worst fire we¡¯ve seen in years, all started because of a stupid child playing with fire. She¡­¡±


    Quentin tuned him out. The girl was crying her eyes out. She had messy brown hair, and dirt smudges on her cheeks. Did she even really understand what was about to happen to her? Could she? Life must¡¯ve been one relentless nightmare since the accident. And here Amicus was going to make it worse by drawing it out. Quentin took a deep breath. Well, fuck that.


    Amicus was still speaking when Quentin drew his sword. The girl saw him and flinched, closing her eyes as if that would protect her from the big bad monster. That was as good as it would get. He strode forward, picking up speed until he was running. The guards released the girl and scrambled away from him. By the time Amicus realized what was going on, Quentin swung.


    She fell backwards as blood spurted from the wound in her neck. The impact of hitting her spine without cutting through traveled up his arm, a sick lingering reminder of what he just did. It was over in just a few painfully long seconds. Blood pooled around the girl as she struggled to take in her last few breaths. The Colosseum fell silent. Even Amicus was speechless as the girl died to an audience of twenty thousand silent spectators.


    Suddenly, anger flooded him, and it was all he could do to avoid screaming until he had nothing left. Quentin drew his arm back and flung his sword out into the crowd, who gasped and ducked out of the way. He turned on his heel and stormed away from the arena. Cervenka waited for him there with his mask off. Quentin ignored him and walked out.


    Back to the locker room, he washed away the blood that had splashed onto his hands and got changed back to his nice new tunic, colorful and luxurious. Quentin would look as close as he got to good while feeling like the scum of the earth. He collected his belongings and left, ignoring the people who dodged out of his way, ignoring everyone. He was out of the Colosseum before most of the audience started to leave.


    Upon reaching the great desert, Quentin broke out into a jog. Anything to put distance between him and the damned place that ate up ten years of his life and turned him into the monster that he was today. He kept going, putting on speed until he was sprinting, reveling in the movement and the burn and the way it felt to just push his body so he didn¡¯t have to think or feel.


    Getting back to the city made it difficult to keep moving at that speed, but Quentin didn¡¯t care. At seeing his quick approach, people got out of his way, just like they did at the Colosseum. Quentin sped past them, running down the streets with his cloak billowing out behind him. The streets passed him by as he made a beeline for home, wanting one thing above everything else.


    Razia couldn¡¯t fix this for him. This was one mess she hadn¡¯t dragged him into and the one mess she couldn¡¯t clean up. But she could be there. She could listen and hug him and tell him he wasn¡¯t as bad as he felt, that this was necessary. Or maybe she could do the opposite and confirm his worst fears and punish him the way he deserved. If he hadn¡¯t already earned the fate of a mindless shade before, he did after tonight.


    It was still early enough that the Boulevard was still crowded, filled with merchants who hadn¡¯t yet packed up and gone home for the night. It was here he finally slowed, heart pounding relentlessly. He tapered off into a walk, panting for air. The people around him stared at him as if he had a second head, but for once in his life Quentin didn¡¯t care about that. They didn¡¯t matter. He swallowed hard and forced himself to be calm. To be numb. This could hurt more later.


    When he turned down the street that led to home, he froze in his tracks. In front of the Garden was a mass of blurry lumps standing there. He crept cautiously forward and those blurs became Watchmen and some of his girls. Anger and bitterness were pushed aside in favor of sudden anxiety. He ran the rest of the way, stopping only when a Watchmen turned to him and held his hand out.


    ¡°We¡¯re dealing with this sir, please turn around and give us some space. You can find some other place to get some pussy for the night,¡± he said in a tired, bored voice.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Quentin demanded. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±


    ¡°None of your business,¡± the Watchman scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ve got this under control, and we don¡¯t need some pale-ass fre--¡±


    ¡°I own this place,¡± Quentin barked, making the man take a step back. ¡°What. Happened. Here.¡±


    ¡°Oh gods, Mr, Q!¡± Lucy pushed past a couple of Watchmen and ran up to Quentin, throwing her arms around his middle. ¡°They took her!¡±


    His blood turned to ice. The world wobbled and he asked, knowing the answer, ¡°They took who?¡±


    ¡°Razia! They took Razia!¡±

 Chapter 67: Home Invasion

    Chapter 67: Home Invasion


    Razia only saw Quentin right before he left for the night. It was late afternoon, a couple hours before they opened. Before that, he¡¯d spent the entire day in his room, which wasn¡¯t unusual when he was upset or troubled. What could be more troubling than what he was about to do? Razia couldn¡¯t blame him for it, but she wished that he would let her in and help, even if it just meant being there and hurting with him. In the end, he chose to be alone with it and left without a word. The Moonlit Garden was her responsibility alone for the night.


    Their night started as many of their nights did, with Samantha cooking up something light but tasty for dinner, which all of them sans Kelli ate together while talking about nothing in particular. They didn¡¯t always eat together, but on nights Samantha went the extra mile, it was an excuse to enjoy each other¡¯s company before they had to deal with people. It was as they were finishing up that Razia heard a knock at the door.


    Lucy came in shortly after, pointing towards the entrance. ¡°Hey Razia, there¡¯s two men here to see you. They say they¡¯re friends of Mr. Q.¡±


    Razia took one last bite and washed it down with wine. ¡°Mm, good, they¡¯re right on time.¡± She hopped up off the couch and met up with the two in the office, now remodeled to have a counter to work behind and a series of chests on the wall big enough to hold the weapons customers often carried with them. That was new, and she expected more than a few people to complain about it, but it wouldn¡¯t be too hard to wear them down and get them to accept it.


    ¡°Demetrius, Jonas, welcome!¡± Razia said, beaming at both of them.


    Jonas smiled right back at her and craned his head to try to look past her to the room beyond. Demetrius¡¯ eyes slid off the wall of chests and over to Razia. He let out a grunt that could charitably be called a greeting and said, ¡°Still working on a list of people to help out here,¡± he said. ¡°But for tonight, we¡¯re here.¡±


    The look in his face said he still didn¡¯t like her, didn¡¯t trust her, didn¡¯t want to be there. ¡°I really appreciate you helping out on short notice like this. I know you don¡¯t like to miss any matches.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Demetrius growled, ¡°definitely don¡¯t mind missing tonight.¡±


    It was hard to be upbeat and diplomatic when she thought too hard about why Quentin was gone. Razia promised she wouldn¡¯t judge him for it, and she wouldn¡¯t, but that didn¡¯t mean she wanted to think about it too much. The difference between her and Demetrius is that she¡¯d embrace every opportunity she had to distract herself and focus on what she could actually do. If he was anything like Quentin (and she suspected Quentin had picked things up from him), he¡¯d wallow in it until he was numb.


    ¡°Well, let me show you inside and maybe get you something to drink?¡±


    ¡°Not necessary, I --¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± Jonas said brightly. Razia motioned with her head to follow her. Jonas followed after, oblivious to the dirty look Demetrius sent his way.


    Outside of the office was one of two areas of the villa that opened up wide and open. On this half of the property was the bathroom, the kitchen, and a couple of very small quarters for servants they used for storage. It was the last buffer before business became a home, and they deliberately blurred those lines. There were more of their potted plants and flowers there, with a walkway through the center of the room to the atrium where the couches surrounded the skylight and pool. Where they now stood were a series of loveseats far apart from each other, there for clients who wanted to negotiate in relative peace and quiet away from the common area. Jonas craned his neck all around, obviously impressed with the place while Demetrius nodded begrudgingly.


    ¡°Lucy,¡± Razia said, ¡°would you kindly get a couple of glasses of our finest wine? We¡¯ve got some very important visitors tonight. They¡¯re going to be watching out for us while Quentin is out for the night.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I remember you two,¡± Lucy said, getting close to Jonas. ¡°You were there that night we got attacked and Mr. Q cut that guy open for trying to kill us!¡±


    Demetrius sighed. ¡°Yeah, that was us. Let¡¯s hope no one dies this time, huh?¡± He shot a pointed look at Razia. Okay, that one was fair.


    ¡°Is Isa still with you?¡± Jonas asked, peeking over to the other side.


    Razia bit back a grin. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s right over there, should be finished up with dinner. You should go say hi,¡± she said. Most of the time she didn¡¯t do anything to intentionally provoke Isa, but sending an eager and pretty teenager was harmless enough.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that,¡± he said, flashing a grin at Razia as he walked by her.


    Lucy remembered she was supposed to be getting them drinks and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Razia with Demetrius. This was not a position either one of them wanted to be in, but neither was willing to run away from the discomfort or clear dislike there. On Razia¡¯s part, at least, it wasn¡¯t hate, but she was under no illusions as to what Demetrius thought of her. So she started by saying, ¡°Again, thank you for being here.¡±


    He looked away. ¡°I promised Quintius. Just like I promised to get him some personal help. He¡¯s a good kid, even if he doesn¡¯t think things through and seems to love things that are bound to get him hurt or killed. He needs someone watching after his stupid ass.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to do that, but you should know that he¡¯s really the one in charge here.¡±


    Demetrius snorted.


    ¡°I mean it,¡± Razia insisted. ¡°I help run things and keep things smooth because I¡¯m a people person and he isn¡¯t, but when it comes right down to every major, impactful decision, we¡¯ve been going with what he wants. He¡¯s really coming into his own lately and it¡¯s been wonderful to see.¡±


    Demetrius looked like he wanted to argue, but Lucy came back with two of their good glasses filled halfway with wine. She handed one to Demetrius and then followed Razia¡¯s finger over to Jonas, who was talking to an unimpressed Isa. Sighing, Demetrius took a sip and looked back at Razia. ¡°I suppose you want the credit for him doing good?¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°Not at all. I showed him a possibility, but he fell into it on his own. You¡¯re much more responsible for him being the way he is, I think.¡±


    ¡°How do you figure?¡±


    ¡°He talks about you all the time,¡± said Razia, smiling fondly. ¡°Well, he talks about the Colosseum often when it¡¯s just the two of us, and it always comes back to things you¡¯ve said to him or taught him. He talks about you more than he talks about his father.¡±


    The short, grizzled man¡¯s face froze in surprise. Then it was gone, replaced by the same grumpy disinterest he kept feigning. ¡°His father¡¯s a bastard for abandoning him,¡± he said. ¡°A real father¡¯d at least stick around an¡¯ try to understand him. At least try to keep him alive. I watched out for him the same I would any of my kids in the arena. What I don¡¯t get is what do you get out of it?¡±


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    Razia sighed. It always came back to this. It was like no one thought she could enjoy something for its own sake. ¡°What do you get out of helping Quentin?¡± she asked. ¡°Seriously. Do you need to get anything out of it, or would you do it because you care about him? It¡¯s the same way with me. Well, probably not exactly the same,¡± she said, smiling wickedly.


    Demetrius made a face, but there was a ghost of a smile under. It wouldn¡¯t fix things between them, but it was a good first step.


    Razia laughed, and took him by the arm and brought him into the atrium with the other girls. He sat next to Samantha, who immediately turned on her charm and fawned over him. Demetrius didn¡¯t seem to mind, and after a few minutes even looked comfortable and happy on the couch next to the red headed beauty. Razia hung back, content to let the two gladiators mingle with her girls and let everyone get comfortable. It was almost like a do-over for the time Quentin invited them, before that went tits up and ended in death.


    For the next while she held back, sitting along the edges as everyone else chatted with each other. Samantha fawned over Demetrius while Lynne watched with a frozen rictus smile on her face, pretending that she didn¡¯t mind. That could be trouble down the road. Isa stared off into the distance feigning disinterest as Jonas eagerly recounted the last match he¡¯d been in and how he¡¯d been hoping to celebrate. Lucy stayed quiet but drank wine while staring at Jonas the entire time. Razia could hardly blame her.


    The next couple of hours passed in an instant, and the good time was ruined by none other than Kelli, who came up to Razia and said, ¡°Who the hell are they?¡± with a concerned look.


    ¡°Friends,¡± Razia replied without turning to look at her. Of course she¡¯d want to know who they were, so she could pass the info along to Cicero. Joke¡¯s on her, there was a better than even chance he already knew who they were. ¡°Quentin asked them to step in for him tonight while he attends to something personal. Is that going to be a problem, Kelli?¡±


    Kelli winced and shrugged. ¡°No, no problem. I just don¡¯t normally see strange men in here before we open. It¡¯s weird enough seeing male whores with us instead of in their own house.¡±


    Not this again. ¡°There was a demand, so we had to supply it. Tenchi and Cullen are going to be fantastic additions to the Garden.¡± Razia smiled. ¡°Come to think of it, we may have too many girls working here. We¡¯d really be better off axing one of you and replacing you with a guy. What do you think?¡±


    She stared at Razia, as if she needed time to process what she said. Kelli looked away, face reddening. ¡°Sorry,¡± she muttered.


    Razia didn¡¯t respond. Instead, she enjoyed silencing the little shit and asserting herself. While she wanted a better working relationship with Mr. Cicero, she had few qualms about pissing off his little spy. Honestly, she expected someone more subtle and less of an ass than Kelli, but the girl seemed to get on well enough with Jenna and Lucy. Lucy in particular needed more friends. She¡¯d get rid of Kelli eventually, but not tonight.


    Cullen showed up not too much longer after that. He was a tall, well built man with close cropped blonde hair and a smoothly shaven square jaw. Instead of a shirt he wore crisscrossing leather straps that showed off his muscular body. She appreciated his style and how quiet he was. Unlike Tenchi, who could be downright bratty, Cullen was quiet, polite, and straight forward. Razia welcomed him in with a kiss on the cheek that made his somber face brighten.


    Tenchi came later, bringing a client with him already. Tonight he wore a traditional Mooran robe and painted up his face to look bright and beautiful. He sauntered in, shooting a wink at Razia as the man on his arm set a handful of shards down on a table. Conversation stopped as everyone watched them go into a room together and close the door.


    That was the signal that it was time for everyone to get to work. Lucy brought Jonas back into the entryway with her. If they didn¡¯t end up spending some time in Lucy¡¯s room after work, Razia would be surprised. Demetrius got to his feet with a groan, stretching out his back before going up to a wall and leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest. He didn¡¯t appear to be a stranger to guard work and knew how to be invisible.


    Razia greeted people in and found out what they were after that night, guiding them to the guy or girl who would be most likely to serve them the best. People went in and out of the rooms, shards exchanged hands, Samantha took a man to the bath with her, and Cullen brought someone out to the garden for a bit of fun under the moonlight. All in all, it was shaping up to be an average, if decently busy night. The only thing missing was Quentin.


    ¡°This really is a better place¡¯n I was expecting,¡± Demetrius said to her, coming up after almost everyone was in a room. It was quiet, just them and Kelli, sitting alone on the couch away from them. ¡°Clean, quiet, and your girls are¡­¡± He failed to find the word and just grinned instead.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Razia said, bowing her head. ¡°A lot of that is Quentin¡¯s doing. When he saw how things were on the streets and in taverns, he said that if he was going to do this he was going to do it better than the other pimps he saw. Have you ever known him to look after others?¡±


    Demetrius¡¯ eyes flickered over to Kelli, who was fiddling with a ring on her hand and looking away. In a low, hushed voice he said, ¡°Prisoners. He¡¯d do what he could for last requests and not let the guards smack them around too much. I¡¯m not surprised he¡¯s still helping others. Especially that pretty little thing with the blue eyes. I bet he¡¯s super protective of her.¡±


    Razia¡¯s face lit up. ¡°He is. He¡¯s incredibly fond of Lucy. We all are, but he¡¯d never let anything happen to her.¡±


    Naturally, that¡¯s when Lucy let out a scream. Razia was on her feet immediately and Demetrius put himself between her and the entryway. Jonas flew through the door, landing on the tiles and rolling to a stop. Out from the entrance came six men, pouring in one after another. Jonas scrambled to his feet and drew his knife. The other men drew their knives as well, moving to flank him.


    Razia recognized the man in the front. It was Simms, one of Christophe¡¯s favorite lieutenants. He wasn¡¯t especially big or strong, but he was fast and always well armed. He was good at keeping a group on task. Her heart skipped a beat and thumped hard when she realized what this meant. The Warlords were here for her, and Quentin wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°Stay back,¡± Demetrius warned her, moving up close. Jonas backed up until they were standing side by side, each holding up a good steel blade. Together they could block off the thin corridor that separated each half of the villa. ¡°Get out the back, now!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave you and the others,¡± Razia protested, even as she wanted to immediately take his advice. Fear was good. Fear was useful. Fear was a gateway to panic, and she could already feel panic gnawing away at her common sense.


    ¡°Stand down,¡± Simms called, drawing a short sword of his own. He pointed it right at Demetrius, smiling pleasantly. ¡°There¡¯s no need for you to die tonight. Just give us that fork tongued bitch and we¡¯ll be on our merry way.¡±


    Demetrius spat on the floor. ¡°Gonna have to pass. Promised someone I would keep her safe.¡± He and Jonas bounced on the balls of their feet, weapons at the ready. The Warlords edged a little closer.


    ¡°What about you, kid? You¡¯re too young and pretty to die. Why don¡¯t you stand aside?¡± Simms leered at Jonas.


    Jonas just grinned. ¡°You¡¯re looking at the next big Colosseum champion. You¡¯re nothing.¡±


    Simms sighed theatrically. ¡°I tried. Kill them.¡±


    His men descended on Demetrius and Jonas. Razia took a step back as the first attacks came. Jonas dodged out of the way of one sword and then another¡¯s knife, losing ground. Demetrius blocked a downward stab and thrust his blade into one¡¯s gut. That Warlord let out a gasp, but it gave Simms time to jab his sword into the older man¡¯s back.


    Demetrius'' back arched and he let out a cry. Simms pulled the blade out and swung it at Jonas, who managed to send his other foe sprawling to the ground with a well placed kick. The teen tried to pivot out of the way in time but Simm¡¯s blade cut into his left bicep. Jonas stumbled to the ground, clutching his arm. Simms flourished his blade, splashing the tile with blood. He smirked at Razia, taking a step forward before Demetrius tackled him from behind. Razia let out a joyful cry as Demetrius put his knife to Simm¡¯s throat, forcing the man to freeze. From the entryway one of the men yelled out, ¡°HOLD IT! Kill him and she dies.¡±


    He had Lucy by the arm, sword crossed over her chest and close to her throat. Lucy¡¯s eyes were wide with terror and she was already starting to hyperventilate. Gods, not her, not again. Razia held up her hands and cried out, ¡°Stop, stop! Fine, I¡¯ll go. Just¡­Just don¡¯t hurt her!¡±


    Demetrius looked up at her, a look of anguish on his face. Not for her, she realized. For Quentin. Simms took the man¡¯s distraction as a cue to get a hand on Demetrius¡¯ arm and pull the blade away. He sent his elbow into Demetrius¡¯ face and threw him off. The older man rolled onto the floor, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind.


    Simms stood up, brushing himself off. He pointed his sword at Razia and motioned for her to get closer. He looked up and barked out, ¡°Stay in your rooms if you know what¡¯s good for you!¡± The clients and girls peeking their heads out from their rooms disappeared. Razia held her hands up and felt herself moving closer as if in a dream. This didn¡¯t feel real. They couldn¡¯t be here, this couldn¡¯t be happening. But it was.


    The moment she was close enough Simms grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer and slammed the pommel of his sword against the back of her head. The impact shook her and the world went dark.

 Chapter 68: If You Want Blood

    Chapter 68: If You Want Blood


    The world tilted sideways and spun. Quentin fought to keep himself upright as the people around him spoke over each other, all trying to tell him everything that happened. There was an attack. They overwhelmed Jonas and Demetrius and took Razia. Dimly, Quentin heard it all and registered it as they spoke to him, but his eyes unfocused and his brain was stuck on the idea that she was gone. He wasn¡¯t there, they took her, and it was too late.


    ¡°After checking on me, Demetrius took off after them,¡± Jonas said. He was on the ground, having his arm treated by a physician brought in by the Watch. It was a nasty cut, nearly to the bone and moving that arm was nothing but agony. He was down for the night, and probably much longer.


    ¡°How long ago?¡± Quentin heard himself ask. She was gone, and it was his fault for not being there. The fear and pain was there on the edges, scratching and begging to be let in. He kept it out with that simple mantra. She was gone, and it was his fault. She was gone.


    ¡°Fifteen minutes, maybe,¡± Jonas said, wincing. ¡°You gotta find Demetrius. He got stabbed. I don¡¯t know how bad it was, but he ran out of here after them. He told me to stay here and watch the girls.¡± Groaning, he bit his lip as the physician disinfected the wound. ¡°He made me promise to stay. If you go now, I¡¯ll catch up as soon as I can. We have to stop them!¡±


    Quentin nodded, oddly calm. Maybe it wasn¡¯t too late. There were a handful of them, well armed, and they were dragging an unwilling captive across the town. They would be slower than he could move. He¡¯d been tired, physically and mentally, when he got home. This was like being submerged in cold water. Quentin was wide awake, and he knew what he was going to do.


    ¡°Stay here, Jonas. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡± He nodded to him and walked into the Garden. There was a dead body there where Demetrius had stabbed him early on. Quentin stepped over him and went through the garden. Some guards were standing outside and jumped upon seeing him. Quentin ignored them and opened the gate. He locked up behind him.


    ¡°What happened here, Quintius?¡± One of them asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± said Quentin, walking past them both. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡±


    He went into his house, and to the room next to his. Ever since the girls started coming around more often, he kept it locked. It seemed the reasonable thing to do to protect himself. Now, he needed what was inside. He unlocked it and stepped inside his trophy room. Banners from the Colosseum hung from the walls, some of them announcing the higher profile executions he¡¯d done over the years. More importantly, this was where he kept his weapons and armor. The armors were old and some were battered, but they were displayed on wicker dummies proudly.


    He pulled a chitin breastplate off a dummy. It was from one of the smaller giant beetles, a charger instead of a behemoth. Their carapace was still tough but easier to work with. Quentin slipped it on, buckling it shut. It fit like a second skin, and he took a big breath to feel it expand properly. Satisfied, he turned around. Hanging on the opposite wall was his weapon collection. Swords, knives, axes, spears, the mace the Emperor had gifted to him, all hung from the wall. None of them except the mace were anything special, but they were his, gathered throughout years of service. He took a simple sword off the wall and slung it over his shoulder. Last but definitely not least, he strapped a small reinforced shield to his left arm.


    In the past, he¡¯d wandered the city with nothing but his knife on his belt. Defending himself was a matter of preventative menace and prudence in equal measure. Don¡¯t look like a victim and you won¡¯t be a victim. Look dangerous enough to be left alone and people would avoid you. This was the first time Quentin could remember leaving the house like he was looking for trouble, but he was. The Warlords had made a terrible mistake.


    ¡°Hey, where the fuck do you think you¡¯re going?¡± One of the Watchmen said, trying to stop him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to find them and kill them and get my friend back,¡± he said, pushing past him. The Watchmen grabbed onto Quentin¡¯s shield. Quentin whirled around at him and stared at him with a neutral expression. No anger, no hate, no fear. Just a pointed stare, silently asking the man if he wanted to do this.


    The Watchmen let go. ¡°Not alone, you¡¯re not. If southside gangs have ventured north, this is our business. Civilians don¡¯t get to kill who they please. Vincent, get over here!¡± he called. Another of the Watch tore themselves away from questioning a crying Samantha.


    ¡°Yeah Cab?¡± He stopped short, looking between Cab and Quentin.


    ¡°Get ready for some action. We¡¯re going after them.¡± He nodded to Quentin, who nodded back. He didn¡¯t need their permission, but he wouldn¡¯t turn away their help.


    The trail wasn¡¯t hard to find. One just had to follow the path of shocked and shaken Orchrisans left behind in the gang¡¯s wake. In this kind of neighborhood, these things simply didn¡¯t happen. That made it easy to wind their way south and west, zigzagging between side streets until they reached the wide north to south thoroughfare that was First Avenue. They jogged along at a steady pace, faster than the two Watchmen would¡¯ve liked, going by their breathing, but much slower than Quentin wanted.


    ¡°Where to now?¡± Vincent asked as they slowed to a stop. As they ran there, sometimes people would point in the direction where trouble had been just a few minutes before. That had been an unexpected bonus of traveling with a couple of coppers. Now that they were in the wide square where streets converged, it was harder to tell.


    Or it would be, if Quentin didn¡¯t know where they were going. ¡°They¡¯re going further south, to the bridge,¡± he said, jerking his head in that direction. ¡°If they cross that bridge, she¡¯s lost.¡± He wouldn¡¯t let that happen. Even if he had to carve his way into the South Side and die trying, Quentin wasn¡¯t going to let them take her from him. He took off again, the other two running after him.


    Faces and houses passed by in a blur. If people got out of his way normally, they very quickly made a path for him seeing him armed and armored. Before too long, they encountered another sign that they were on the right track: blood stained the sand, a few splashes here and there, but going further south. Quentin followed them there, coming to a stop when the trail did.


    Demetrius was on the ground, breathing hard. He was on his side, struggling to get up. Quentin was at his side in an instant, falling to his knees. ¡°Demetrius, are you okay?¡±


    It was a stupid question. The man¡¯s craggy face was pale and slicked with sweat. The sand around him was caked in a small but growing pool of his blood. Looking over he could see a gash nearly three inches long to the left of his spine. He didn¡¯t know how deep it was, but it couldn¡¯t have been too bad if Demetrius managed to get this far while wounded.


    ¡°Fuck, does it look like it?¡± Demetrius wheezed, laughing weakly. ¡°I tried, Quintius. I tried to stop them, and I --¡±


    ¡°I know, brother,¡± Quentin said. ¡°I know you never would¡¯ve let anything happen to her.¡±


    Demetrius pointed south. ¡°They got her in a cart. I got close for a bit, close enough to see ¡®em. They got her stashed, under some shit, I think. I tried to get closer, but¡­¡± he looked down.


    ¡°He¡¯s not looking good,¡± Vince blurted out.


    Quentin turned to shoot him a venomous look. ¡°Can you get him some help?¡±


    The Watchman looked taken aback, but he nodded. ¡°Yeah, you two go on and I¡¯ll get some help for him.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be back,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°I can see why you needed guards,¡± said Demetrius, laughing that wheezy, breathless laugh. ¡°Go. Go!¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He would worry about Demetrius later, when everyone was safe. He took off, running faster now until his lungs and heart protested. The street was long, but they were running out of city by the time they got to the bridge. He and the copper darted around a group of young men throwing dice in the middle of the street when Quentin saw the cart. He slowed down but didn¡¯t stop, pointing forward.


    ¡°What¡­The hell¡­do you¡­¡± Cab struggled for breath. Quentin was right there with him, but they had a chance now to catch their breaths. ¡°Plan?¡± He struggled to get out.


    Everything in Quentin¡¯s blood screamed at him to keep moving, to run up and cut them down where they stood and rescue Razia. It took all of his restraint to not do just that. They had a chance now. They weren¡¯t at the bridge yet, and there was no use fighting them when the Warlords were likely rested and ready for action and they weren¡¯t.


    ¡°We get in close,¡± Quentin said between pants of his own. ¡°With any luck we can take a couple of them out before they know we¡¯re there. I can take half of them if you can.¡±


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    Cab looked at him as if he grew a second head. ¡°Are you insane? We¡¯re not going to just run up and kill people.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you aren¡¯t.¡±


    The Watchman glared at him. ¡°You can¡¯t kill anyone. You understand me? We fight and drive them off and get the girl back, but we¡¯re not looking for an open brawl. You go in there killing and I¡¯ll --¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll what?¡± Quentin snapped. ¡°Send me to the Colosseum? Please do. I¡¯m going in. Help or get out of my way.¡±


    Off in the distance, the bridge appeared in the evening darkness. Quentin couldn¡¯t quite see it, but he could see the twin torches on either side of it, welcoming people across. The Warlords were little better than human sized blurs at this distance, but one of them clearly pointed and a cheer could be heard even back there. They moved faster now that their goal was close at hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a better plan,¡± Cab said. ¡°Follow my lead, yeah?¡±


    Ready or not, it was time. They moved closer, walking quickly. Quentin¡¯s heart hadn¡¯t stopped pounding since he left the Colosseum, but this was a different thumping. Regardless of what the Watchman¡¯s plan was, there was going to be a fight, and Quentin wasn¡¯t going to spare a single one of them if he could help it. They broke into his business, hurt his friends, took his¡­He swallowed and breathed out the anger through his nostrils. The time to be calm was over.


    They closed the distance between them and the cart, pushing past a group of people. One of them really didn¡¯t like that. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re¡­oh shit!¡± he saw, seeing Quentin was armed and stalking forward. That got the attention of everyone around them, including the Warlords. The one at the back looked behind and froze.


    ¡°Aw, shit,¡± Cab groaned. He ran forward and called out, ¡°Watch here, arrest these men!¡± A second later Quentin saw the two coppers standing near the torches on the bridge. That would make it four on six, a much more appealing option than trying to take them all on at the same time. Unfortunately for Quentin, the Warlords reacted faster.


    The moment Cab called out, their leader signaled and two at the front rushed the Watchmen, drawing their swords and plunging steel into soft tissue before they had a chance to react. They stabbed viciously, making sure the men were dead as two others grabbed the front of the cart and ran ahead. ¡°Fuck me,¡± Cab whispered.


    ¡°Great plan.¡± Quentin drew his sword. He drew a deep breath and bellowed out at the top of his lungs, ¡°RAZIA! I¡¯M HERE!¡± He yelled loud enough to make his throat raw. To Cab he said, ¡°I¡¯m going in.¡±


    The Warlords converged on their leader, standing behind him with their swords drawn. He wore a cocky smirk and spread his hands apologetically. ¡°Sorry, you just missed her. Don¡¯t worry, Christophe¡¯s going to give her a warm welcome when she arrives. Why don¡¯t you just head home and forget about her?¡±


    This would¡¯ve been the perfect time for Quentin to snap back with something witty or intimidating, but heat flooded his chest, spreading out in every direction. It wasn¡¯t time for talking, it was time to fight. Time to kill. His eyes darted between the men. In the back of his head he noted everything he could about them, the way they held their blades, which legs they may have favored based on the way they were standing. Just like Demetrius taught him, identify the weak link and take them out first. He advanced with his shield raised.


    Their leader shook his head and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re all really making me work tonight. And for what? Some whore? Kill him.¡± The other Warlords pushed past him, the three of them fanning out and approaching Quentin with their swords raised. Quentin stopped, and so did they. Nobody was willing to crack, to be the first one to move and set them all into motion. Not until Quentin jerked sharply, startling the one on the left into charging.


    Quentin met his downward strike with his shield, slapping the attack out of the way. The others weren¡¯t far behind and before Quentin could retaliate he had to pivot out of the way of a stab. The second man¡¯s sword grazed his armor as he overextended and Quentin sprang with the motion, elbowing him in the back of his head as he passed. He continued the movement, bending his back to narrowly avoid the third man¡¯s swipe at his neck.


    Momentum was important. Quentin let it carry him sideways, stepping away from the next attack before he even knew it was coming. He crouched into a ready position, his body behind his shield, sword raised and ready to strike. He circled and the others followed his motion while their leader stood back and watched. The next strike came from his right, a thrust straight down at his unprotected legs. Quentin twisted and stepped back and the next came immediately.


    The man on his left chopped downwards, blade sinking into the wood of Quentin¡¯s shield. His friend switched it up, sword rising up from its previous failed strike. With a flick of the wrist Quentin slashed his arm open. He let out a yelp and dropped his sword. Quentin had no time to celebrate. The man in the middle seized the opening and brought his blade down right where Quentin¡¯s armor ended and his shoulder began.


    Quentin didn¡¯t scream so much as suck in a breath as pain exploded when the sword bit into flesh and bone. It nearly dropped him but his body moved on its own, twisting and tearing the fresh wound wider as Quentin thrust his blade through the man¡¯s gut. The man on the left pulled on his sword, still stuck in Quentin¡¯s shield. Together Quentin and the man he stabbed dropped. Forced to his knees, Quentin looked up in alarm as the Warlord he slashed had regained his weapon and was going in for the kill.


    Cab came in at last, intercepting the attack with a clash and following through. The man screamed as the blade bit in and intersected with his first cut, making a grotesque X of open flesh. Once more the sword clattered to the ground. He had time to look up as Cab stabbed him in the shoulder and forced him to the ground. The copper met Quentin¡¯s gaze and gave him an apologetic nod.


    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sakes!¡± The leader growled as he surged forward to join his remaining men. Quentin forced himself to his feet, pulling his sword out of the dying man. Pain howled at him and any movement of his left arm was agony. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d be able to move it much at all, but he was going to have to and fast. The leader ignored Cab and went right for Quentin, striking down hard and fast.


    He raised his shield and dropped his body, not entirely of his own volition. The impacts of each strike were flashes of fire, immolating his shoulder again and again. Quentin let himself be pushed back, doing everything he could to just not drop. The bastard grinned down at him, seeing weakness. There was a predatory look in his eyes Quentin recognized. One way or another, this was over. Once more he raised his sword up with both hands.


    Quentin dropped his shield and dove forward. He collided with the Warlord as his blow came down awkwardly against his armored back. He and Quentin were brought down to the ground together. Pain blinded Quentin as he let gravity do the work and landed on him sword-first. There was that sharp intake of breath, a soft, empty gasp as Quentin¡¯s blade bit through leather and flesh and up into the man¡¯s lung.


    The last remaining warlord took a step back, sword dropping to the ground. Cab advanced, sword out. ¡°I surrender,¡± he said. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me, I didn¡¯t even want to come here.¡±


    Quentin pushed himself upright. His body screamed bloody agony, but he wasn¡¯t done yet. Quentin pulled his sword out of his dead foe and lurched forward. Every step sent jolts up until the horrible cut on his shoulder. Quentin tried moving it and nearly collapsed again. This was a career ending wound, the type you never fully recovered from. The cart was partway down the bridge at this point, and there was no way he could run like this. Raw, desperate fear filled him for a second before he pushed it down.


    All around them, the people who had ducked out of the way once the fighting began peeked their heads out. They began murmuring, but they were the least of his problems. Quentin would deal with a dozen eye witnesses who could honestly say they saw him kill a couple of men later. All that mattered was making sure Razia was safe.


    Closing his eyes, he focused on the pain. He saw the wound in his mind¡¯s eye and felt it burning and bleeding freely. If he could ever heal fast, now would be the time for it. His shoulder itched furiously. If he was supposed to be special or a gift from the gods, he sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to complain if it was true. Gods, he wanted it to be true. Searing pain in his shoulder spread like a wildfire, pulsating hotter and hotter until Quentin wanted to scream. A new wave of dizziness brought him to his knees.


    When he opened his eyes the pain was lessened. Without looking he rotated his left arm at the shoulder. It hurt. It hurt so bad it made his eyes water, but he could move it. He couldn¡¯t see the wound very well, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped. That was good enough for him. He rose. ¡°I¡¯m going after her,¡± he said and took off onto the bridge.


    Quentin gave it everything he had. He let the pain drive him forward, the momentum carrying him from the start of this shitty night all the way here from the Colosseum to the west bridge. The few other people on the bridge got out of his way. He saw the cart in the distance, getting clearer by the second. They were at about the halfway point of this bridge, the water¡¯s lazy roar beneath their feet. He waited until he was close enough to spit on the cart before once more he bellowed out, ¡°RAZIA!¡±


    The two remaining Warlords nearly jumped out of their skins. They whirled around and looked at him wild eyed. ¡°What the fuck,¡± one of them whispered.


    ¡°I killed the rest of them,¡± said Quentin panting heavily. Holding up his bloodied sword, he grinned at them, giving them his best crazy eyes. ¡°Now I¡¯m going to kill you too.¡±


    They looked at each other. Coming to the same conclusion, they took off running down the bridge, as far away as they could get from Quentin. Relief flooded him. They would¡¯ve kicked his ass. He put his sword back in its sheath, uncaring of how much cleaning it would need later. He let the shield drop to the ground as he came up to the back of the cart. He pulled the scratchy blanket off and onto the ground.


    Razia stared up at him, hands and feet tied behind her back, with a gag in her mouth. Her eyes were filled with tears and Quentin felt a sympathetic sting of his own eyes. He¡¯d never seen someone so happy to see him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he pulled her to the edge of the cart. He scrabbled at her bonds until she was free. She scrambled to her feet and threw herself at him. Quentin caught her, welcoming the pain if it meant that she was okay.


    ¡°Oh gods Quentin¡­¡± she whispered after pulling the gag out. ¡°Gods, this was so close, they almost¡­they did, and now you¡­¡±


    Quentin pulled her close and stroked her head, smearing some blood there. He doubted she cared right then. ¡°Never gonna let that happen,¡± he said, begging his heart to slow down. ¡°Never.¡± She looked up at him, right into his eyes. There was none of her usual playfulness there, none of her boundless joy. Just relief and fear fighting in her, mirroring his own. He almost lost her. Something inside of him broke.


    He pressed his lips against hers. Razia made a surprised sound, but then she kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck and aggravating his healed wound. He didn¡¯t care. She was sweet, soft, and warm, like the heart of summer. Why had he ever resisted? They stayed there like that, gently touching and testing each other, savoring the moment. Razia eventually broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his.


    ¡°Quentin,¡± she said, sighing against him. ¡°What took you so long?¡±

 Chapter 69: Consequences

    Chapter 69: Consequences


    Once the thrill of being rescued and Quentin finally kissing her wore off, reality set in. Razia had to help keep Quentin upright as they walked down the bridge, and given he was over twice her size it was a struggle. One she very much preferred to the alternative. So she had his arm around her shoulder and let Quentin use her as a human crutch until they came upon the consequences of the night¡¯s actions.


    The Watch was out in force, about a dozen of them in total. Two carts with cages in the back were parked, one of them occupied. The last Warlord sat there, looking bitter but mostly relieved. He made eye contact with Razia and scowled at her. She just blew him a kiss and laughed as he was carted away. Quentin looked down to her with an inquisitive grunt, but Razia just shook her head.


    ¡°You got her back then?¡± a sandy haired copper asked Quentin. He exchanged a nod of greeting with her. ¡°What happened to the others?¡±


    There was a ring of spectators who parted for them. They stopped a few feet away from the bodies, lined up neatly next to each other and off to the side of the road. The sandy streets were stained with their blood, smeared in the direction they were dragged. A couple of Watchmen were examining them and looked up at the two with unreadable expressions.


    ¡°Got away,¡± said Quentin, standing up straight and releasing Razia. ¡°They ran away as soon as they saw me.¡±


    She found herself immediately wanting to cling to him, and she wasn¡¯t sure if it was pure relief, fear at what had almost happened, or just a need to not let him out of her sight now that things were¡­Definitely going to be different, moving forward. Instead, she took her hand in his and squeezed it fiercely. ¡°They ran back to Piro Pentius,¡± Razia said. ¡°They¡¯re his men.¡±


    The copper wrinkled his nose. ¡°The jeweler?¡± he scoffed.


    ¡°He¡¯s a lot more than that,¡± said Razia. ¡°He¡¯s also the leader of the southside gang, the Warlords. He¡¯s behind the attack on the Moonlit Garden and my abduction. We need to get out of here now before his men get back and he sends reinforcements.¡± Now that the fighting was done, she easily slipped into her role of doing the talking. Poor Quentin looked like he needed a break.


    ¡°I dunno about any of that,¡± the Watchman said. ¡°Way above my paygrade. What I do know is you were taken and we have five dead bodies because of this shit. And at least three of them are your fault,¡± he said, pointing at Quentin. ¡°I told you no killing them.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Quentin, too tired to be angry. ¡°The next time I¡¯ve got three or more people trying to kill me I¡¯ll just politely roll over and die. How about it, Cab?¡±


    Cab made a face. He looked over to the pile of bodies and spat on the ground. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be me what has to explain everything that happened.¡±


    ¡°Which means you can be the one to tell them this wasn¡¯t murder,¡± Razia interjected. She released Quentin¡¯s hand and stepped forward. ¡°You¡¯ve got multiple eyewitnesses to an assault on our business, I was kidnapped, and you took one of the bastards alive, right? It shouldn¡¯t be too hard to explain.¡±


    The Watchman shook his head. ¡°Yeah, all that¡¯s true, but¡­Turns out, this stab-happy bastard has a record, don¡¯t you Quintius?¡±


    Quentin sucked in a deep breath ready to retort, but then another Watchmen came up and put his hand on Cab¡¯s shoulder. His badge was silver, which meant it was more than likely he was in charge of them all. ¡°Quentin Quintius, you¡¯re under arrest for the unlawful killings of two men. You¡¯ll be taken to the nearest Watchtower, where you will await trial as we collect the facts.¡±


    The rest of the Watchmen tightened their ring around them, hands on their weapons. Quentin just sighed. Razia stood in front of him, as if she would be able to do something to stop them. Well, maybe she couldn¡¯t stop them but that didn¡¯t mean there was nothing she could do. ¡°Which one¡¯s the nearest Watchtower?¡± she asked.


    The silver badge said, ¡°Watchtower number 5. Why?¡±


    Razia brightened up. ¡°Then we¡¯ve got no time to waste! Bring us on in, and when you do, alert the Inspector. He¡¯s going to want to be the one who handles this. Unless he wants to get in trouble like last time.¡±


    Whatever the Watch was expecting, it wasn¡¯t that. The silver badge coughed and said, ¡°Last time?¡±


    Quentin looked down at her, tired and questioning but not stopping her at least. ¡°Yeah, the last time Inspector Irwin tried to speed up charges against Quentin, it didn¡¯t end well for him. He¡¯s going to want to handle this personally, so let¡¯s get on our way so we can go home.¡±


    ¡°Err, right. Into the cage you go,¡± the silver badge ordered.


    Quentin limped on over to the cart and Razia helped push him up and into it. He collapsed onto the cold metal bottom and forced himself to sit cross legged. Razia climbed in after him. If any of them had any objections to it, they kept it to themselves and just closed the cage and put padlocks on the corners.


    From there, a couple of the coppers including Quentin¡¯s new friend Cab grabbed the handles and pulled the cart along. Slowly they rolled down the streets, heading north and to where Razia would hopefully be able to get them out of trouble. Scenario after scenario passed in her mind in a flash as she went over every possibility she could think of. When she had a few of the more likely ones in mind, she turned to Quentin. ¡°Hey. You okay?¡±


    Quentin groaned pitifully, but there was a smile on his face. ¡°I¡¯m fucking exhausted. Tonight¡¯s not been great. Before this, there was¡­¡± he trailed off, unwilling to say anything else in mixed company. ¡°Then I ran home, only to find that you were gone. So I got suited up and ran after you, got in a fight, and ran some more. You¡¯re lucky I like you.¡±


    ¡°Unbelievably lucky,¡± Razia said. Quentin smiled at her, and she couldn¡¯t resist leaning forward to kiss him again. He didn¡¯t pull away or freeze up. As scary as the entire situation had been, it was almost worth it to be able to do that and have it be right. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t think so later, but for now Razia was grateful. ¡°And so are you,¡± she said, pulling away. ¡°You got in a fight with Warlords and you barely have a scratch on you!¡±


    A weird look crossed Quentin¡¯s face. Slowly, he shook his head and let out a dark chuckle. ¡°Not quite. One of them got me good.¡± He tilted his head to the side, grimacing. His shoulder was covered in crusty brown blood, with an angry red line from his chest to his back. It didn¡¯t look good, but it could¡¯ve been way, way worse. And Razia said so.


    ¡°That scratch?¡± she said. ¡°Sure it¡¯s long, but it looks like they nicked you.¡±


    Quentin laughed again, stopping when it caused him pain. ¡°If anyone took the hit I did, they would be out for months, maybe never be able to use that arm again. It just happened to heal. Really, really fast.¡±


    Realization struck her. ¡°Oh. Oh. THAT fast?¡±


    He smiled weakly. ¡°I kind of tried something and¡­Well, it worked. Let me run after you when I could barely move.¡±


    Oh that was going to mess with his head and she knew it. He hated the idea that there was anything possibly tied to his albinism that made the stories true. Luckily, Razia had a much easier solution. She sat back against the bars of the cage and said calmly, ¡°So, you¡¯re a Savant, then, and that¡¯s your one trick. Unless you¡¯ve got others you¡¯ve been hiding.¡±


    That earned her a thoughtful grunt. He closed his eyes, sagging in place. ¡°Maybe. Better that than¡­yeah.¡± The city rolled on past them slowly as he thought about it. People peered in on them as they passed by, but for a change Quentin didn¡¯t seem to notice it. Suddenly, he chuckled again. ¡°When Omar was talking to me about Savants, he said something that I didn¡¯t think about until now. He said a lot of Savants don¡¯t know they are. So I guess this is why my teeth grow back and I¡¯m never out of the fight for long. But I¡¯ve never healed THIS fast before.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Razia scooted closer to him and leaned against him, using his uninjured shoulder as a pillow. ¡°What was different this time?¡±


    ¡°I guess I thought about it more. And maybe begged a little to be healed. It hurt like a bitch all at once and then it was mostly better. You think maybe the gods heard me begging?¡± He sounded skeptical.


    ¡°No, nothing like that. Maybe it¡¯s because you were focusing on it. When you get injured, do you think about it all the time?¡±


    ¡°Not really. I do when it hurts, and sometimes it hurts worse than usual, like the wound is fresh. I usually just settle back and sleep and eat a lot until I heal up.¡±


    Maybe that was the key. ¡°How do you feel now?¡± Razia tilted her head up to look at him.


    ¡°Tired. Pretty damned hungry,¡± he admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t feel great. But I guess it could be worse.¡±


    It made sense to Razia. ¡°What if¡­¡± she started, making it clear it was a hypothetical, ¡°you¡¯ve been speeding it up all along when you think about it when laid up? You only thought about it a little, every now and then, and you made sure you got plenty of rest and food. If you can do that on command, it makes sense you¡¯ve been doing it without realizing it.


    Slowly, Quentin nodded. ¡°I think that makes sense. We¡¯d have to test it for sure, and I¡¯m not especially eager to damage myself to see if I can pull it off again.¡±


    They fell silent again. The way Razia saw it, he had a lot to think about and could use a bit of a rest before she got them out of this. Gods, she could use a bit of a rest as well. Turning in place, Razia rested against his armor and let her eyes close. It felt like only seconds later when the cart came to an abrupt stop and the Watchmen following unlocked the cage.


    ¡°Out, hands where we can see them, one by one. You first,¡± one of the coppers pointed at Razia.


    She opened her mouth and let out a lazy yawn before she did as she was told, slowly slipping out of the cage. ¡°Are we really doing this?¡± she asked. ¡°We came willingly. If we wanted to resist we wouldn¡¯t have come back to you in the first place. We would¡¯ve ran.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t that she thought her words would change anyone¡¯s minds. No, the Watch was going to act how the Watch acted, but she could at least draw attention to it. Make them feel silly about every step of the farce that was arresting them. The sooner she established this all as a bad joke, the easier it would be to drive that idea home. Razia wasn¡¯t disappointed when the nearest watchmen grabbed her by the arms and twisted them behind her back.


    Quentin came out of the cage haltingly, though the brief rest seemed to do him some good. His eyes were clearer and locked onto the Watchman holding Razia. He too was grabbed and secured, by a man on each arm. He looked over at the silver badge incredulously.


    ¡°This is standard. You¡¯re already being treated better than most, so be glad you¡¯re not in chains,¡± the man said, shrugging. He motioned for them to move and they were ushered inside the Watchtower.


    It was much the same as the last time they were there, save that there were far fewer people inside. Most of the Watch patrolled the streets at night, with only a small crew watching over the jail. She supposed it was lucky that they did as she demanded and brought them straight to the Inspector¡¯s office. The silver badge knocked on the door and disappeared inside. A few minutes passed as the two talked inside. Then the door opened, and Cab was ordered in.


    ¡°Think he¡¯ll be on your side?¡± Razia asked Quentin after several minutes of silence.


    ¡°No talking,¡± one of the guards barked.


    They looked at each other and rolled their eyes. ¡°No telling. He helped me out but wasn¡¯t happy about it.¡±


    The guard cuffed Quentin¡¯s head. Quentin¡¯s head swiveled around slowly. He smiled. ¡°You get that one for free.¡±


    Before things could get worse, the door opened again and both Cab and his superior came out. ¡°You¡¯re up, I guess,¡± the silver badge said with a grimace. Razia recognized that look on his face. He was surprised and unhappy about something. This was probably going to go their way. Quentin motioned for her to go first and followed after her.


    Inspector Irwin was much the same as the first time they¡¯d met him, with one important difference. He didn¡¯t look especially happy to see them again. So naturally, Razia smiled widely and said, ¡°Inspector Irwin, a pleasure to see you, though we¡¯re sorry for the circumstances.¡± She took a seat and Quentin joined her in the other chair. She leaned back and crossed her legs, projecting her best carefree attitude.


    ¡°You¡¯re sorry?¡± he scoffed. His eyes slid between the two of them, but his focus was mainly on her. ¡°You¡¯re sorry for another instance of slaying men on the street? You do realize this is a country of laws, right?¡±


    ¡°Except for when the proper people have been paid off, or just don¡¯t do their jobs and fast track a man to death, right Irwin?¡± Razia didn¡¯t have to try to look smug. His growing irritation was enough to do it for her.


    He turned to Quentin and said, ¡°Last time you were drugged and didn¡¯t know what you were doing. According to our officer, you explicitly went and got a weapon and hunted these men down and murdered them. And now you two are acting like this isn¡¯t a big deal, and that this is just going to blow over?¡± With each word his voice raised until he was all but yelling at them.


    Quentin shot an easily read please stop face at Razia. She ignored it and instead pointed at Irwin confidently. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I think. Because Quentin here is still an agent of the courts, and he was executing his duties tonight. Inspector,¡± she said, voice dropping to something less mocking and more conciliatory. ¡°You know who is backing him. What he did tonight was completely lawful, and in fact, was a part of cleaning this city up. You should be thanking him.¡±


    ¡°And who the fuck are you, Ms. Rashid?¡± Irwin growled at her. ¡°What makes you think you¡¯re so godsdamned important that you¡¯re speaking for Mr. Agent Of the Courts?¡±


    Razia glanced over to Quentin. In the past few months they¡¯d become closer and closer every day. Razia could honestly say she¡¯d never quite had a partner who matched her so well, who knew when to let her do her thing and when to pull her back. She and Quentin were entirely different people, but they knew how to connect. The question was directed at her, but now it was his turn to play the game.


    ¡°She¡¯s my partner,¡± said Quentin, managing to sound both exhausted and bored at the same time. He sat with his head propped up on his fist and despite the armor he still wore and all the blood, he looked at ease. ¡°She deals with the boring minutiae while I do my job. Are you really going to lose sleep over a couple of dead gangsters?¡±


    Inspector Irwin didn¡¯t respond. He stroked his short beard thoughtfully, like he was fighting not to lose his temper and unload on them. After about half a minute he sighed and reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor and a cup. He poured himself a measure of golden liquid and shot it back. ¡°I don¡¯t care that they¡¯re dead,¡± he said. ¡°I care that they were there to begin with, attacking your business and kidnapping this woman. What does a gang from the southside want with you, and how many more times will it end in death?¡±


    ¡°I may have given them cause for offense,¡± Razia said, shrugging. ¡°They found out where I was and tried to have me kidnapped. Quentin stopped them. We¡¯ll be beefing up security and it will not happen again. Look, Inspector,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°I recognized the leader of them. He was a man named Simms. Last I recall, he had a price on his head. You¡¯re not going to make that one stick if it goes to court. If you can bring it to court. What if, instead of fighting a losing battle, you and your men claim credit for the deaths of wanted criminals and keep the reward for yourself?¡±


    Quentin chimed in, ¡°Please, by all means. I¡¯ve no need for the money.¡± His voice dropped, sounding entirely pleasant but chilling underneath, ¡°the work is its own reward.¡± The smile on his face honestly made Razia¡¯s skin crawl. Gods, he really was getting good at acting when he needed to.


    It apparently worked, as Irwin lasted only a few seconds before his eyes dropped down to his desk. His jaw was set and it looked like steam was about to come out of his head, but when he spoke again it was muted. ¡°You can¡¯t hide behind an Arbiter and get away with this every time. If I see you in here again, I will push, consequences be damned. Now get the fuck out of here.¡±


    Razia stood first and offered Quentin her hand. Smiling, he took it and nearly pulled her down as he used it to get to his feet. They left the office, startling the nearest Watchmen who had their ears to the door. They backed off quickly, faces turning red. ¡°Mahoney, make sure they get home safely and without any more dead bodies,¡± Irwin called out.


    Cab straightened up at being called out and motioned for them to follow. Hand in hand, Quentin and Razia followed him down the stairs and out of the Watchtower. As they passed, every eye was on them, many of them looking distinctly unhappy that they were leaving. Razia couldn¡¯t help but hum to herself along the way. Quentin was much more subdued, trudging along like a man ready to fall into bed.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯re letting you go,¡± Cab said once they were away from the others. ¡°I mean, I said you didn¡¯t start this and they jumped us, but you still killed those men. What on earth made the Inspector let you go?¡±


    Sighing, Quentin said, ¡°I¡¯ve killed a lot of men in my time. Do you know how many times I¡¯ve been charged with murder?¡± Cab looked over his shoulder at Quentin inquisitively. ¡°Not once. To tell you more would be above your paygrade.¡±


    That seemed to give the Watchmen food for thought. They were silent as they headed home. They¡¯d need to make sure the girls were okay for the night and tell them they would deal with things in the morning. There were a million little things that had to be addressed if they were going to deal with this, but for now they could afford to rest. Razia squeezed Quentin¡¯s hand. Things were different, but it wasn¡¯t a bad thing.


    ¡°Hey,¡± said Quentin, life coming to his eyes. ¡°I meant to ask, how is Demetrius doing? Your friend got him help, right?¡±


    Cab slowed to a stop. When he turned around, he was frowning. Razia¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°He did, but¡­¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°It was too late. Your friend died of his wounds. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

 Chapter 70: Snoops

    Chapter 70: Snoops


    It wasn¡¯t stupidity that led Isa into one of the biggest mistakes of her life, it was curiosity. Everything had been fine, business as usual, when the screams started. She and her client stopped at the first scream, and then broke apart and came to the door at the sounds of violence. Looking at each other, her client nodded and they opened the door and peeked out.


    ¡°Stay in your rooms if you know what¡¯s good for you!¡± A rough looking man in leather armor shouted. Neither Isa nor her client needed to be told twice. They slammed the door shut and locked it.


    ¡°Right,¡± said her client, eyeing the bed. ¡°Shall we continue?¡±


    They did not continue. Within a few minutes Isa had cleaned up and checked the main room again. Samantha was there, looking entirely lost and crying. Not nearly as bad as Lucy, who sat on the ground with her legs hugged to her chest sobbing, repeating that it was her fault. Isa left her client behind to go to her. He¡¯d see himself out without any issues, and he wasn¡¯t half as important as Lucy.


    ¡°Hey, look at me. Look at me!¡± Isa commanded. Lucy turned her tear-stained gaze to her. She sniffed, but snot flowed as freely as the tears. Ignoring that gross display, Isa pulled Lucy into a hug the younger woman very much needed. Samantha would do their laundry later and get the mucus out. ¡°You¡¯re okay,¡± she said. And that¡¯s all she said for a couple of minutes. ¡°You¡¯re okay. They¡¯re not going to hurt you.¡±


    The others handled the attack in their own unique ways. The new guard for the night fought his way to his feet and then lurched out the door, yelling for someone to get the Watch. That someone ended up being Jenna, while Samantha walked around in circles and Kelli drank. It had happened. One of Razia¡¯s many past mistakes came back to haunt her, and the rest of them were left picking up the pieces. Of course it happened on the one night their fearless leader wasn¡¯t there to stop it.


    The next several minutes were a surreal blur, a waking dream where Isa felt entirely too sober to deal with things. The Watch came in and questioned them all, together and separately. Isa went along with it, giving what answers she had in short, simple sentences so the mouth breather would just leave her with her thoughts. They were racing, but it all boiled down to the same thing: she was right, Quentin let them all down again.


    And just like that, he showed up, panting and out of breath and utterly clueless as to what happened. Isa nearly went off on him there. It would¡¯ve been so easy, but this wasn¡¯t the time. No one around her would appreciate her gloating about being right about the two of them. Hell, even Isa herself wasn¡¯t satisfied with being right. She found herself flat out disappointed, and angry that they¡¯d given her hope just to dash it against the rocks.


    Isa watched Quentin with her arms folded over her chest, glaring daggers at him. The last time this had happened, he broke a man entirely and swore it would never happen again. What would happen this time? And the next? He passed her by without a word as he went around to the courtyard. Everyone watched him go, and the whispers started. Hope, that he¡¯d fix things. Hope that Razia wasn¡¯t lost. Isa couldn¡¯t bring herself to hope.


    Not even when Quentin came back out the way he came clad in black armor with a sword over his shoulder. Isa¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He didn¡¯t seem to notice her at all as he walked on by. Two Watchmen joined him and they took off into the night, leaving the rest of them to¡­What? Continue to stand around, worrying? Answer the same questions the coppers had been asking them all night? This was as bad as it had ever gotten, and it simultaneously seemed hopeless and like their boss would just walk right out and fix things before the night was over. He certainly didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Lucy asked as Isa passed her.


    ¡°Going back inside. Standing around worrying isn¡¯t going to bring her back.¡± Isa looked over her shoulder. ¡°Consider packing your things, just in case things go sour. If they get bad, they¡¯re going to get bad fast and you won¡¯t want to be around here.¡±


    Lynne looked at her with disgust. ¡°Just like that, you¡¯re saying to pack up and run away?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Isa said with a false smile, ¡°you want to stick around for the next group of hardasses who come in after one of us? This keeps happening and I don¡¯t see it stopping in the future.¡±


    ¡°Typical,¡± Jenna said, shaking her head. ¡°Bossman¡¯s scary. If anyone can get her back, he can.¡± Beside her, Kelli nodded. As petty as it was, it was her who set Isa off.


    ¡°Why do you all have such faith in this man?¡± she yelled. ¡°Seriously. Things are good for a bit, and then something like this happens. You really want to risk your life on a roll of the dice over who¡¯s going to get hurt next?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lucy said, standing up and glaring at her. ¡°I¡¯m happy here. Even with the risk.¡± It wasn¡¯t much, but the teen didn¡¯t look away from Isa¡¯s glower.


    ¡°Fine. Do what you want. All of you.¡± She stormed past them into the house. Rather than going for her room, Isa went to the garden. It was peaceful out there, the sky dark with the new moon and a soft glow coming up from the lycanpoppies. It wasn¡¯t quiet though, as the other neighbors were out and about and speaking loud enough to carry over her way. Annoyed, Isa unlocked the gate and stepped out.


    The guards were posted at every entrance in and out of the neighborhood. Their neighbors, the bunch of rich, whiny, selfish bastards they were, were out in great numbers and looked her way. Isa made a rude gesture and leaned against the fence. Maybe one of them would satisfy her itch for a good fight, someone to yell at and make her feel better as they felt worse. The only one who came close was a nearby guard, a bald, heavyset man who asked, ¡°Hey, is everything going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°How should I know?¡± Isa scoffed. The guard sighed and shrugged, looking away from her. How could things be okay after an attack like this? The past would always catch up to them. All of them knew a bit about Razia¡¯s specters, but none about Quentin¡¯s. Even if Razia managed to pay off every last debt she incurred with her antics, how many people did their resident killer piss off in his career? They knew so little about him, and he never talked about himself.


    She looked over to his house and froze. The gate was open. It wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if it was closed as she had a key, but it was a reminder. Quentin was out taking care of this, supposedly. All in all, he seemed calm and even focused when he left, not freaking out like most of them. Who was this bastard? Isa pushed away from her house and found herself walking over to Quentin¡¯s.


    She slipped past the gate and into his garden, her stomach doing odd flips. She¡¯d been in this house a handful of times before. Quentin welcomed them all in and made it clear that they could bother him if they needed something. Well, now Isa needed something and he wasn¡¯t there, but that just made it easier. She went into his house slowly, peeking around as if expecting something to jump out at her in the darkness. Isa took a lamp off a hook and turned the light up.


    As well lit as the Moonlit Garden was, Quentin¡¯s home was a tomb in comparison. All the rooms around the atrium were in the same layout, but they felt completely different in the dark. Dark gateways towards a hidden past no one was allowed to see. Isa remembered the first time she¡¯d been in there. Quentin had welcomed them all in, with one caveat. There were two rooms no one was allowed to go into. Thats¡¯ where she would find her answers.


    There was a part of her, a not inconsiderable voice in the back of her head telling her this was wrong and to turn back. As far as she was concerned, it was too late for that. With both of them gone and no telling if they were coming back, this was the time to snoop around and get her answers. She¡¯d figure out what was going on with Quentin, and maybe prove that he wasn¡¯t the man everyone kept saying he was. It would mean uprooting again, but it would also mean her instincts weren¡¯t wrong.


    His bedroom was the first place Isa checked. The door creaked open, loud enough to make her feel like someone would hear, even knowing it was just her. She stepped inside, holding the lantern up. There was a large, comfortable looking bed, a desk, a small toilet off in a corner room and a chest with a heavy lock on it. The room was much like the rest of Quentin¡¯s house, devoid of personality and past. Big, comfortable, even wealthy but like a facsimile of a life lived, empty on the inside.


    She retreated and went for the other room. There was a padlock on this door that hadn¡¯t been there when she and the others first came by with Lucy. No one had opened it then, as no one was comfortable enough to stick their noses where it didn¡¯t belong or to rouse Quentin¡¯s wrath. Luckily for her, the padlock was open and the door ajar. Isa pulled the door open and stepped inside.


    The lantern¡¯s flickering light danced on all the evidence she could ever hope to find. The weapons on the wall didn¡¯t surprise her, it made sense for a killer to have a personal arsenal. No, what shocked her was the tapestry on the wall, showing the Colosseum and a skull faced figure standing over a pile of bodies. The figure had a spear and his opponent was bleeding from the side while tiny people in the stands cheered. Her shaking made the light flicker violently on the scene.


    Sets of armor, all black and lined up next to the tapestry. Posters on the floor, still showing that same skull faced figure that everyone in Orchrisus knew well. Isa swallowed hard. This couldn¡¯t mean what she thought it meant. There was no way. The light glinted off one weapon in particular. Isa leaned close, holding the lantern up to a glittering black mace. The only sign of color aside from the gold flecks in black was the word ¡°Justice¡± written in deep, dark red.


    ¡°Quentin is the Butcher?¡± Well, it seemed like her instincts weren¡¯t wrong after all.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    *********************************************************************************


    Kelli stuck around longer than most of them. Partly to keep any possible suspicions from falling on her, and partially because she was curious about what would happen. Eventually they all went inside and ignored the blood on the floor and sat down on their couches, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kelli made herself useful by grabbing bottles of wine and bringing them back out. She opened one and took a long drink before handing it over to Jenna. Jenna half-smiled at her and did the same before passing it on to Lynne. No one spoke for a while. No one wanted to be the one to bring up how painful waiting was, or to be the one to break the silence and have it all fall on them.


    In the end, it was Samantha who spoke up, taking a deep breath and saying, ¡°You know, I think everything¡¯s going to be fine. Mr. Q will get her, they¡¯ll come back home, and then we¡¯ll laugh about this tomorrow.¡±


    Kelli wanted to laugh about it now, but that might be giving the game away a bit. The mood was so low that no one was buoyed or relieved by Samantha¡¯s declaration. They passed the bottle around until it was empty, and then opened the next. After about twenty minutes of sitting and waiting, Isa came in from the garden with a thousand yard stare. Wordlessly, Kelli handed her the bottle.


    ¡°You okay, Isa?¡± Lucy asked, cocking her head to the side. Her cheeks were red and her head wobbled on her shoulders. She was a lightweight and had calmed down the most. That might¡¯ve been because she wasn¡¯t too far off from just passing out from the wine and stress.


    Isa shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s¡­nothing. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Isa didn¡¯t take a drink so much as a long, extended guzzle until she had to come back up for air. Making up for lost time.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty shaken up too,¡± Lynne said. If she was drunk, she didn¡¯t act it. She mostly looked depressed and resigned to bad news. ¡°But it won¡¯t be so bad tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Unless we lose Razia, Quentin fucks off again, and we¡¯re back on the streets. Or worse.¡± For a change, no one challenged Isa or told her to lay off. Everyone was feeling it. Almost everyone.


    It was almost funny. The news everyone else dreaded would¡¯ve made Kelli jump for joy. As it was, she was mostly feeling impatient. Her ring heated up and while it wasn¡¯t painful, it was a summons she physically couldn¡¯t ignore. It would sting until she arrived, or worse if Piro decided she was doing it on purpose and burned her through it. She didn¡¯t know what all he could do, and his threats had been vague enough that she didn¡¯t want to risk it.


    Footsteps came from the entrance. All of them looked up. Looking absolutely tired and just finished with life was Razia. Before she could cross the room and join them all of them were on her feet and rushing her, Samantha in particular pulling her into a hug that threatened to suffocate the islander. The rest of them poured in around her, all trying to talk over each other to make sure she was okay. All of them except Kelli, who hung back, the ring slowly burning her finger and reminding her she wasn¡¯t going to be done after tonight.


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey,¡± Razia shushed everyone else until the Garden was silent. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Quentin¡¯s okay. We both got a little banged up, but he found me and killed the men responsible. We¡¯re not in trouble with the law, and everything¡¯s going to be okay. We¡¯re just really, really tired.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± Isa said. ¡°You¡¯re back, hello, goodnight?¡±


    Razia shrugged, too weary to fight back. ¡°Quentin lost a friend tonight. He needs me and frankly, I need him too. You should all get some rest. We¡¯ll clean things up and talk tomorrow.¡±


    Kelli saw her opening. ¡°What if people come back for you, and they find us? I¡¯m not sure I feel safe staying here tonight.¡±


    The weight of all their eyes bore down on her. She kept a straight face, not caring if they liked or disliked her. This should¡¯ve been over by now, and maybe Piro would let her off with just what he paid. It might be worth it to just not have to deal with this shit anymore.


    Razia shrugged. ¡°Then stay elsewhere. You¡¯re a big girl, you can make your own decisions. For the next twelve hours it¡¯s not my problem.¡± She took the bottle from Isa and took a drink herself.


    ¡°Fine. See you tomorrow,¡± Kelli said, praying it was a lie. She caught Jenna¡¯s eyes, and the woman looked disappointed to see her go. Surprisingly, she didn¡¯t say anything and Kelli was free to just walk out and away from the situation. No doubt they¡¯d be celebrating being rid of the loudmouthed bitch. Well, the joke was on them. As soon as she was out the front door she did a short ¡®I¡¯m-getting-away-with-it¡¯ dance. It wouldn¡¯t have been a big deal if there wasn¡¯t a Watchman stationed nearby.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Kelli said, raising her hand and giving a half hearted wave. The middle aged Watchman gave her the nod. She slinked off, keeping her cool until she turned the corner and was finally alone. It was hard not to run, but Kelli power walked her way east, and then south. The Warlords had to use one route because it wasn¡¯t safe for them to be on the lower east side. She had no such restrictions.


    The path there was long, slow, but completely uneventful. Even the trek west once she was across the bridge was mostly just boring. She stuck to well lit streets and walked fast enough that no one who wanted to stop her could do much more than see her pass them by. This time, when she arrived at the tavern the Warlords called home, she was expected and brought right in. They led her to the same backroom behind the bar, where Christophe and Piro sat in the same places. Two dejected Warlords sat off to the side.


    ¡°So, seems like things didn¡¯t go as planned,¡± Piro said, laughing. Christophe was not amused. He motioned for her to sit and she obeyed.


    ¡°I tried to warn the team,¡± said Kelli, eyes darting between them both. ¡°When I found out that they had backup security, I twisted that ring back and forth like a dozen times to signal that it wasn¡¯t safe.¡±


    ¡°We know,¡± said Christophe. ¡°That was well done. We¡¯re not blaming you for anything. Yet.¡±


    ¡°We have the story from these two, the only survivors of tonight¡¯s shitshow,¡± said Piro. ¡°Everything from the moment they grabbed Razia to when they ran with their tails tucked between their legs, afraid of the big bad moonkissed.¡± The two Warlords cringed, not looking up. Oh, she did not envy those two.


    ¡°Wait, are you trying to tell me that Quentin killed everyone except for those two!?¡± Kelli¡¯s jaw dropped. There was no way that was possible. He spent all of his time drinking and lounging around a ridiculously plush chair. Sure he was big and probably dangerous, but he was supposed to be retired!


    Christophe scowled. ¡°Either dead or otherwise dealt with. These two sad sacks were cowardly enough to not fight but wise enough to come right home. Not sure if I¡¯m pissed at them or grateful.¡±


    ¡°It really does even out, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Piro said, nodding. ¡°Then again¡­¡± He looked over at the two, who froze. Piro extended his hand, fingers twitching. His other hand shot out and joined the second, rolling in circles along the wrist. Light flared to life in his right palm, sparking up into a flame. Kelli leaned away from him as each roll of the wrist built up the fire until it was crackling violently, spitting more sparks into the air..


    ¡°Oh gods,¡± one of the Warlords croaked, dropping to his knees. The other shielded his face with his arms, waiting for the inevitable.


    Piro closed his left hand and the fire died out. ¡°Naw, you two are good to go. Enjoy some drinks, get a girl. You did well in reporting back. We¡¯re not going to punish you for being the only survivors. Make a habit of it and we¡¯ll be having a different conversation. Well? Go!¡±


    They got up and headed towards the door fast. Piro let out an uninhibited laugh that came dangerously close to being a childish giggle. He pointed after them and slapped Christophe on the arm. The bigger man was smiling in spite of himself and rolling his eyes. ¡°As funny as that is, it¡¯s terrible for discipline. You keep joking and one of these days they¡¯ll joke when you¡¯re serious. And then you¡¯ll have to fry them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but that¡¯ll keep the rest of them in line and keep them guessing. They get to love and respect you, they need to fear me.¡± Piro leaned back in his chair, looking pretty happy with himself.


    Kelli cleared her throat.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Christophe said, eyes narrowing at her. ¡°You got information to add, fucking say it. Don¡¯t need an invitation to continue.¡±


    She bit back an impatient reply. No, these two seemed to get off on fucking with people and trapping them in unwinnable situations. The only way to win was not to play. ¡°I waited until most of the others were in their rooms and the only man in the room was distracted. I twisted the ring once, and about a minute later your men came in. One died fighting the two security guys, but they took Lucy hostage and Razia went with them.


    ¡°Then I stood around trying not to make any sounds or look guilty while everyone else was freaking out. I think they think I was in shock, so I¡¯m pretty sure my cover is fine. Because you¡¯re not going to let me go, are you?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± said Piro. ¡°Tonight was botched so badly we basically have two options. We can either try diplomacy, or we can try assassination. Guess which one you¡¯d be a part of.¡±


    Oh gods, she was in too deep. Kelli breathed in and out as calmly as she could. She was under no illusions that she seemed okay or unflapped. They knew she was scared and wanted out, they just didn¡¯t care. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can kill somebody,¡± she said. ¡°Particularly not Quentin. If he killed four of your best, how am I going to have a hope in hell of pulling it off?¡±


    From the inner pocket of his bright red coat, Piro produced another ring. This one was a deep, dark purple in a claw setting. The center of the oval gem was a black line, like a slit. He pushed it across the table. ¡°This gem is alchemically made. You said the man drinks like a fish. Drop this into his wine and watch him go from white to blue.¡±


    Christophe cleared his throat. ¡°But don¡¯t do it just yet,¡± he said, giving a pointed look to Piro. ¡°We¡¯re trying diplomacy first. We¡¯ll spend some time talking to Cicero, kissing his ass and apologizing and try to get him to hand her over first. If Piro is capable of humbling himself some, we might be able to just solve this with a lot of money. If that doesn¡¯t work out, then you poison him.¡±


    ¡°And if that fails?¡± Kelli asked. ¡°If I get caught?¡±


    ¡°Then I suppose you¡¯ll be dead,¡± said Piro, shrugging. ¡°Best you don¡¯t get caught then. But we understand how difficult this assignment is becoming. Stay a little longer and see it through and we¡¯ll double the pay. When it¡¯s over.¡±


    ¡°If that fails, we¡¯ll be going to war,¡± Christophe said with a nasty smile. ¡°At that point, dealing with a second rate Savant will be the least of our worries and you will be completely free to run for your life, praying neither they nor us find you.¡±


    ¡°Gee,¡± said Kelli. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Christophe¡¯s smile grew. ¡°And if they catch you, do whatever you can to make them kill you. Because if you¡¯re still alive, we¡¯ll assume you told them everything. Understand?¡±


    Yes, Kelli understood. She was either soon to be very rich, or very dead.


    End of Part 6: Tales From The Moonlit Garden


    End of Volume 2: The Moonlit Garden

 A Quick Update

    So, this isn''t a real chapter, obviously. This is an update on my hiatus and when I''m coming back, and just a little bit of talking about my plans for this story and others.


    It almost feels silly writing an update like this when I only have 200ish followers and my chance for growing on RS is long since over, but truth is I really value everyone who''s made it this far in my janky-ass story. It''s been deeply rewarding for me to get it out and just...Play around with a couple of characters in a world I made. It''s been really fun, but I''m not fooling myself or anyone else. The Accidental Pimp is structurally a mess and has many flaws keeping it from being as good as it can be. For one, Volume 2 ended abruptly and I realized I didn''t have nearly enough of a middle section for it to be satisfying. And that''s fine. I can fix that later if/when I decide to release on Amazon. What''s important is I keep moving onward.


    This story''s been fun, but I want to get a little more serious about writing than I have been. The title and subject matter alone definitely keep a number of people from checking out my stuff, and that''s entirely fair. But as goofy as The Accidental Pimp is, I really love writing it and making it up as I go, getting distracted and chasing plot bunnies that completely fuck up what passes for an outline. And I don''t see that changing, but if I''m going to grow as a writer, I do need to switch it up.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    So here''s what''s going to happen. In early January I''m going to start posting Volume 3 of The Accidental Pimp and will probably stick to one 3-4k word chapter a week while I work on my next project. Work is going a bit slowly because of the holiday season but with the new year there''s nothing stopping me from going full steam ahead and making this what I do full time. Over the course of 2023 I fully intend on finishing Volume 3 of TAP, as well as writing two new stories. The first of them is "The Hearthknight: Cursed Redemption" and I''m about a third of the way done with it. It''ll be ready by spring at the latest. It will be a largely self contained novel instead of an ongoing serial. The second new story I''m still workshopping, but they''ll all take place in the same shared world I hope to expand and continue to play with as long as I write.


    Other than that, I might finally set up a patreon while not expecting much out of it. It seems the cool kids thing to do these days, and maybe I''ll be surprised and my next story will be more widely read. And that''s just about it. TAP continues in January, Hearthknight by spring, Something Else come autumn. If you''ve got any questions or comments, drop them below. I''ll probably delete this update the day before I get back to posting, but I''d love to hear from you! And if you haven''t left a review, I''m pretty sure the ones I have are the only reason some people gave the story a chance! All it takes is 50 words.


    See you in 2023!

 Chapter 71: Regrets and Confessions

    Part 7: Into the Underworld


    Chapter 71: Regret and Confessions


    Razia snuggled backwards into Quentin, pulling his arms tight around her. She was awake, more or less, but she didn¡¯t want to be. Being awake would mean dealing with the previous night. It would also mean moving from her spot when all she wanted to do was soak in how nice it felt to be curled up against him, how natural. Sometime during the night Razia had shoved the pillow away and used his arm instead. Before she got up, she wanted to memorize the moment, hold onto it as long as she could.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re awake,¡± Quentin whispered in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ¡°You¡¯re only relaxed when you¡¯re asleep. Awake, you fidget.¡±


    She stretched, looking over her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. You¡¯re the tensest man I¡¯ve ever met. Until you¡¯re out, then you¡¯re snoring and dead to the world. How long have you been up?¡±


    Quentin smiled, looking down. ¡°Long enough to enjoy it, but not so long that my need to get up beats everything else. This is¡­I didn¡¯t think it would ever be real.¡±


    Oh, the answers she could give to that. She settled on playful for a start. ¡°It¡¯s real, but it¡¯s going to become more real. Do you have any idea how long I¡¯ve been waiting? A girl has needs.¡± Razia rolled over and smiled sweetly at him.


    At first, he had the familiar look of surprise and eagerness. Then his face hardened and he pulled away from her, sitting up. ¡°Before we even think about anything more, we need to talk about last night.¡±


    There was the other reason Razia didn¡¯t want to be awake. Every minute she could put between her and having to face the aftermath of the attack was more time she had to try to process things herself. She sat up as well, swinging her legs over the side. Her feet dangled several inches above the ground. ¡°Yeah, I was expecting that. How are you doing, Quentin?¡±


    He took a long, deep breath, looking away from her. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I lost my best friend. It hurts. It hurts and I don¡¯t know what to do about it other than just wallowing for a while. But I can¡¯t afford to do that, can I? I¡¯ve got to worry about the next attack. And the one after that. Your past keeps coming back for us.¡±


    There it was. Razia nodded, hugging her sides. ¡°Yes. Yes it does. And it¡¯s not fair to you or to anyone else. I¡¯m so sorry, Quentin. Demetrius was¡­That¡¯s my fault.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, turning to face her with a haunted expression. ¡°It really was. We got careless and the bastards after you found a crack and slipped in and nearly got you. It¡¯s going to cost the girls, it¡¯s going to cost the business, and it¡¯s already cost me the only friend I had before I met you. Who else is going to suffer because of what you did? Gods, I don¡¯t think I even know the extent of what you¡¯ve done.¡±


    Hearing him acknowledge it hurt, but it was a hurt she had coming. The longer she worked with him, the more all of her past antics seemed so foolish, so risky. They had been, and that was the point. It was one thing for her to have to pay for her actions, but having others get it instead of her¡­If she was a worse person, she might¡¯ve felt invincible. Sitting next to Quentin, she definitely didn¡¯t feel that.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you anything you want to know,¡± she said quietly.


    ¡°I want to know everything that happened between you and Piro and why he¡¯s after you,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I need to know everything that might come up after us again if I¡¯m going to keep us safe.¡±


    He may not have known it, but this was about as good a punishment as he could¡¯ve given her. Several months now she¡¯d run from Piro and made a new life for herself up in the northern half of the city. In that time, she thought about it as little as possible. Thinking about it meant realizing how fragile her safety was, and it made her remember the things she did. Where would she even start?


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a long one,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what happened from the start, but you might want the broad strokes at first.¡±


    Quentin nodded at her, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her silently. His hawkish face was as fierce as it ever got, and it felt weird being on the receiving end of it after all this time.


    ¡°When I first got to Orchrisus, it was to try to claim sanctuary in the Temple and become a priestess. You know this already. I did it to try to escape my father, and an arranged marriage. I was to become the trophy wife of a rival trade prince. His third wife, which my bastard father thought was appropriate. My own mother is his third wife,¡± she added at Quentin¡¯s questioning look.


    ¡°Any spouse past the second is considered for entertainment and producing more loyal family members to build up a healthy crew. I was trained from¡­No,¡± Razia shook her head. ¡°That can come later. Point is, I came here for sanctuary. When I didn¡¯t find it, I took my two handmaidens and sent them off on different ships with a good portion of the money we had for the trip. My father¡¯s men went after them, leaving me to live in Orchrisus now. Down in the south side.


    ¡°I¡¯m under no illusions that I¡¯m a good person, Quentin,¡± she said, feeling a bit of a sting. Mostly, she knew she had to be truthful, now more than ever. ¡°What I was trained for was to butter people up and get information out of them. To be a pretty face who was obedient to my father and anyone I was working for at the time. When I was here in Orchrisus and out from my father¡¯s control? I may have misbehaved a bit. First taste of true freedom and all.¡±


    Quentin almost smiled, but grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re going to call it misbehaving when there is a trail of bodies because of this?¡±


    Razia flinched. ¡°That¡¯s¡­That¡¯s all it felt like at the time. I had a bit of money, and I used it to drink and have fun and doll myself up so I could get into whatever party or event I wanted. I used my skills, my charms, everything I had to just have fun with someone else paying the bills while I took my own private tour of Orchrisus and fell in love with the city. I was selfish, reckless, and cruel. I didn¡¯t care who got hurt so long as I was having fun and could just¡­keep that up. And then I met Piro.¡±


    Probably the biggest mistake of her life, now that things were piling up. And a hard one to try to explain, if not justify. There was no justifying her behavior or the effects it had on other people. There was no making up for it either, a dark part of her whispered. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t be a shade, but her atonement would be a long one and probably worse than whatever Piro and Christophe planned to do to her before they killed her. Quentin might¡¯ve been the only thing that could stand between her and that fate, but after all of this maybe he wouldn¡¯t want to.


    ¡°It was in a tavern that belonged to his gang, the Warlords. I didn¡¯t know it at the time. To me it was just a place to get a drink and dinner before I wandered the streets for the night and found something better to do. He came in with his men and one of them tried to get grabby with me. I pulled a knife on him and shoved it up against his balls.¡± She smiled, in spite of herself. ¡°He didn¡¯t appreciate that, and none of his friends could make a move without being the reason for losing his bits. Piro came in and offered to swap spots with him. If I was still mad he¡¯d be the one to lose his balls.


    ¡°I thought there was no way he¡¯d do it, but he¡¯s¡­For being an absolute monster, he can be really charming. Eventually he and I were laughing and I put away the knife. We drank and danced and¡­Well, got together. When we woke the next day, he took me around and showed me his setup. Dozens and dozens of men under his command, striking fear into the hearts of merchants and anyone who looked at them wrong. And he walked around with me on his arm, showing me everything. He knew what I was, but he wanted to keep seeing me. And I agreed.


    ¡°At first it was just small parties, meetings where he and Christophe would choose targets and send their men out to make some trouble. Christophe never wanted me there in the first place. He hated me.¡± That was an understatement. Of all the things she regretted, him escaping justice was probably the biggest. Razia could deal with Piro, knew how he thought. Christophe was a bloodthirsty beast. ¡°He¡¯s¡­In some ways he¡¯s scarier than Piro. Those men last night were probably hand chosen by Christophe.¡±


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    Quentin¡¯s hands twitched, like they wanted to grab something and squeeze them. He nodded to show that he was listening, but otherwise stayed as silent and still as a statue.


    ¡°At first I was just there to enjoy the sights and be arm candy. And the parties got wilder. Eventually Piro had the idea of me charming some of his rivals and sending me over as a gift, with the goal of fucking them over. I thought that idea was fantastic, and we went for it. It¡­It worked.¡± Razia took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m responsible for several of them being killed. They weren¡¯t good people, and I don¡¯t feel bad about them no longer being around. But it was because of me it happened. As far as I¡¯m concerned, I murdered them.¡±


    That made Quentin stir. ¡°It¡¯s not the same,¡± he said. ¡°Guilt happens regardless, but it¡¯s a much different thing to actually take a life than to just think about it or make it happen. Have you ever killed someone yourself?¡±


    Razia sighed. ¡°Once. As I was leaving him. I¡¯ll get to that. After the third target, I was pretty well accepted among his men, save for Christophe and a few of his most loyal. The community started to know me and reaching out to me to ask things of Piro, or to give gifts so we wouldn¡¯t mess with them. And I started to revel in it.


    ¡°I was born into a wealthy family on Nalek, one of the Dell Archipelago¡¯s biggest islands. I had everything I needed and wanted, but it was all based on my father¡¯s wealth and power. None of it was because of me, I was just reaping the benefits of it. Here, in Orchrisus, I had started making something of my own. It was working with a gangster, having fun and living without inhibitions. I felt free. I felt alive. Me and Piro were an unbeatable team, and Christophe hated that.


    ¡°The way I understand it, they¡¯ve been best friends since childhood. Christophe is a giant and was raised on the streets and Piro showed signs of being a shaper early on. They were the terror of their neighborhood, and that only got worse when they grew up and Piro came back from a magic school on the other side of the continent. Me entering the picture, I guess it made him feel left out or left behind. He got increasingly belligerent about me and hated how I would give my ideas and opinions on his plans. He badgered Piro until he got what he wanted.


    ¡°In the middle of an open party among the different rival gangs to discuss peace terms, Piro turned on me. I gave my opinion like I always did, and he turned around and started yelling at me. Horrible things.¡± This was the ugly part she re-lived more often than everything else. ¡°About me knowing my place, being only good for my ability to fuck on command, and how he was tired of me trying to act like I was anything other than his whore.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s when you decided to betray him,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I remember you telling me some of this, when you first moved in.¡± Maybe it was just her imagination, but he looked more severe by the minute. This wasn¡¯t going well, but now that she started Razia couldn¡¯t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯d always had an¡­intense relationship. Big passions meant great times and awful times. And this was the most awful he¡¯d ever been, just to try to look good in front of his best friend. I knew what it was at the time, but he turned me into a laughingstock in front of everyone I¡¯d spent three months impressing. So I decided it was time to move on, but I¡¯d get him first.


    ¡°I acted like I was properly put in my place and waited. I let three weeks go by being the perfect obedient whore while I plotted. I decided on my course of action, and when they were going out for a job one night, I stayed in and struck.¡± She tapped her neck and said, ¡°Piro¡¯s got this talisman he made. He¡¯s not a very powerful shaper, but he¡¯s a good artificer. He enchanted his talisman to be a better focus for his magic, and it hides him from magical spying. Other shapers and speakers can¡¯t track him with it. I took it, a bunch of shards, and information about a job coming up and I left.


    ¡°That¡¯s when I got caught, and killed the man who tried to stop me. I didn¡¯t mean to, but if he stopped me I was as good as dead.¡± Razia could see and feel it fresh in her mind. The way that the knife had sunk into him, the look of surprise on his face and the way he fell to the ground. She wanted to ask, suddenly, when the guilt for that would go away. When the nightmares would stop. She was afraid of the answer. ¡°I stabbed him and ran north.¡±


    ¡°You gave the talisman and information to Cicero,¡± Quentin said, understanding what came next. ¡°That¡¯s the deal you made with him, isn¡¯t it? His protection, your overall safety, for an enchanted necklace and information Cicero could use to hurt Piro.¡±


    ¡°The enemy of my enemy is my friend,¡± said Razia, half smiling. ¡°Mr. Cicero listened and agreed, and even hooked me up with the Silk Lounge. I got to know the North for the month before I met you and spent a night or two a week working there while I explored and just¡­Tried to live without causing too much trouble. Until Otho fucked up. And here we are.¡± Now that it was all out, it was all on Quentin.


    He kept her waiting for a few minutes as he mulled it all over. His hands were on his knees, gripping so tight his hands shook. When he did speak, it was slowly and carefully, like he was trying not to lose control. ¡°What I¡¯m getting out of this,¡± he said, ¡°is that you came to town, found a dangerous and powerful man to hook up with and hide behind, and then burned him when things got bad. And then you came north, and found a dangerous man to hook up with and hide behind, and also rebuild the reputation you lost. Is that right, Razia? That¡¯s what I was afraid of in the first place.¡±


    She flinched. ¡°It¡¯s not like that with you,¡± she said.


    Quentin snorted. ¡°I bet Piro thought the same thing, didn¡¯t he? I bet everything was great until it wasn¡¯t. What¡¯ll it take for you to do the same to me? If I piss you off or even just disappoint you, are you going to just pack up and leave me to deal with your problems?¡±


    ¡°No Quentin, gods, I --¡±


    He stood up suddenly, making Razia cringe away. There was no way that he would hit her or harm her in any way, but seeing him worked up like that, knowing she was the cause was agony. His face went through a cycle of grimaces and pauses, like he was going to speak but thought better of it. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.


    ¡°One of the first things I thought when you first propositioned me was that you pitied me, or wanted something from me. Maybe that wasn¡¯t true at first, but it became true later, didn¡¯t it? Once you knew who I was, and what I was. You even said so when you showed up at my door and asked to stay here. Gods, I must¡¯ve been your easiest mark ever, right?¡± Quentin buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. ¡°You could lead me around by the cock without ever having to actually touch me.¡±


    ¡°I want to touch you,¡± she said, eyes burning. This was going all wrong. Her every instinct told her what was coming and she didn¡¯t like it. She didn¡¯t want any of this, but she deserved it. ¡°I want to be with you. That¡¯s not a lie. I¡¯ve been honest with you since I moved in. Gods, Quentin, you¡¯re the only stable and consistent thing in my life.¡±


    ¡°Honest, huh?¡± Quentin looked at her with such contempt, such anger, it nearly broke her right there. ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you told me about the real deal you made with Cicero?¡±


    Her blood turned to ice. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The deal you made with Cicero when you took him into your room. I may be your current dumb muscle, but I¡¯m not stupid, Razia. I knew what you were going to do in there. I told you no, and you don¡¯t like hearing that. Not when you¡¯ve got your mind set on something.¡±


    What else was there to say? ¡°I was going to tell you,¡± she said, looking down. ¡°Not yet, but I was. I was going to see about us connecting with more of his people, and then once I showed you how helpful it could be I was going to tell you everything.¡±


    Quentin turned away from her and grabbed his boots. He slipped them on and grabbed a fresh tunic and belt. He didn¡¯t care that she was there with him exposed. That more than anything told Razia how badly she fucked up. ¡°Then tell me now. What did you promise him?¡±


    ¡°Names only,¡± Razia whispered, wringing her hands together. ¡°Names of our clients, occupations, and who they saw and how much they paid. No direct information, nothing overheard or gotten through charms. Just a copy of records we needed anyway. He said he¡¯d have one of his people working here for us for anything else he needed.¡±


    He nodded, as if that was exactly what he was expecting. Without turning around he said, ¡°I can¡¯t be here right now. We¡¯ll¡­We¡¯ll finish this when I get home.¡± He walked out the door, leaving her behind on his bed.


    When she was taken, fear devoured her and she spent the better part of an hour thinking she was going to die. Now she would¡¯ve preferred that. The worst part of all of it was that Quentin wasn¡¯t wrong. She did all of this, and most of it she¡¯d justified or rationalized after the fact. Razia knew herself and her flaws. She was impulsive, she was reckless, and she hurt everyone around her. When Quentin got back, he was going to kick her out.


    It would be so easy to run. Just steal some money, write an apology, and get the fuck out of Orchrisus for good. Start over in a new city, far from any remaining debts or grudges she left behind. It would be so easy, but Razia didn¡¯t want easy. Not anymore. She wanted to fix things, to make them better than they were before. She had people now, people she cared about and wouldn¡¯t screw over. Not willingly. That meant staying and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe with a little luck, Quentin wouldn¡¯t hate her enough to hurt the others.

 Chapter 72: Father and Son

    Chapter 72: Father and Son


    At first Quentin didn¡¯t really have a goal, he just let his feet carry him away from home. Walking around Orchrisus had always been one of the few hobbies he enjoyed, though rarely during the day. Now that he had his dark spectacles to protect his eyes, it was more enjoyable. Knowing they were a gift from Razia, and a particularly thoughtful one at that, just made the recent pain harder to bear. Even when walking away he couldn¡¯t escape the influence she had on his life. The same went for the dark blue cloak with stars embroidered along the back. It hid him less and was, he hated to say, stylish. There was no hiding like this, and for a change he didn¡¯t give a damn about the people he passed by. Another thing he could tally up as being because of her. He didn¡¯t like it, but what could he really do about it now?


    Quentin kept walking. It was normally easy to get lost in his anger and just stew in it for hours and hours. When one lived alone, cut off from the rest of the world, it became a natural habit. Being angry at least meant feeling something other than loneliness. Now he couldn¡¯t claim to be lonely, and that was just another thing to be angry about when all was said and done. Another thing for the pile, matched up against two distinct wrongs.


    Lying to him was bad, but Quentin really didn¡¯t expect any better out of her. What did that say about their relationship? How healthy was it to be attached to someone you couldn¡¯t fully trust? Over the last ten years he¡¯d seen the results of lying and cheating and betraying your partner¡¯s trust. He¡¯d lost count of how many executions came down to vengeful lovers acting out while hurt. Quentin wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever be angry enough to hurt Razia intentionally, but there was no denying her responsibility here.


    Demetrius was gone because of her. Because of him, too. Quentin had demanded that he and Jonas look out for the place if he was going to be gone for the night. Demetrius may have been a crotchety old bastard, but he was an honorable man who kept his promises. In the fifteen years Quentin spent at the Colosseum, it was Demetrius who had been there for him the entire time, treating him the same way he would any other overly proud brawler who wanted to prove himself. He¡¯d been as close a thing as Quentin had to a father in years.


    Maybe that was why his footsteps led him east, towards the more packed, far side of town. It wasn¡¯t a slummy area, but it was crowded and the homes were piled on top of each other, each a garish color clashing with the others. This neighborhood straddled the line between low and middle class, where craftsmen and skilled laborers and stall vendors could afford to live with their families. Years had passed since Quentin last set foot here, but the only difference was some of the neighbors were older. It took them a few seconds to recognize him, but most of them knew him when they saw him.


    Quentin passed by a middle aged woman and her now teenage daughter, hanging their laundry in a nook between two houses. Mrs¡­Digo, was it? Her daughter waved at him with an uneasy smile and Quentin returned it, moving on to the house just past there. He faced the door, raised his hand to knock, and hesitated. He never thought he¡¯d come back here at all, let alone for advice or sympathy. Without Demetrius, who else did he really have? Sighing, Quentin banged on the door.


    Nearly half a minute later the door swung open, revealing a hawkish, frowning face very familiar to Quentin. He saw the same face whenever he looked into a mirror, sans color. Seeing him, the man stiffened, his scowl deepening. Quentin¡¯s heart raced, but he ignored it and sighed. ¡°Hi dad.¡±


    Quirrinel Quintius stared at him silently, long enough for it to go past awkward and right into uncomfortable. Long enough for the man to build up a head of steam and unleash it on Quentin, ready to tear into him for a lifetime of mistakes and disappointments. Long enough for Quentin to think that maybe this was a bad idea after all, and maybe he should just apologize and walk away. Quirrinel opened the door and motioned with his head for Quentin to enter.


    The only change in his father¡¯s home was how much messier it was without Quentin. The majority of the open room was a workshop, with a big barrel of water in the corner, plenty of mud and clay in big pots around it, a kiln off in the opposite corner, and a study stone table set against the wall where his father worked and ate his meals. On another smaller table were chisels and hammers and rags. Quirrinel stepped into the middle of it and tried to smile.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re still alive. I feared the worst when I heard about the new executioner. I expected somebody to come speak with me, but they never did.¡±


    Quentin bit back a sharp retort. It was his father¡¯s decision to cut him out, not his. Instead he just shook his head and sighed. ¡°No, they just retired me. More or less.¡±


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± said Quirrinel. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you lasted as long as you did without some degenerate getting lucky. Do you have any idea what it¡¯s like, having to constantly worry that one day some men will come and inform you that your child is dead and that his killer gets freedom? I worried about you every night.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Quentin, giving in to the white flash of anger. ¡°You were so worried about losing me you said fuck it, and decided you never wanted to see me again. Don¡¯t have to lose your son if you get rid of him first. Great logic.¡±


    Quirrinel¡¯s lips drew back in the same silent snarl Quentin¡¯s did when he was angry. ¡°I didn¡¯t get rid of you, I gave you a decision to make. It was your choice to stay at the Colosseum. It was your choice to make a living killing people. You chose all of that over family. Every night I not only waited to see if you were coming home, but how bad a shape you were in. I couldn¡¯t live like that, watching you destroy yourself.¡±


    ¡°What other choice did I have, dad?¡± Quentin demanded. ¡°How else was I going to make a living? Do you know what it¡¯s like, looking the way I do? Having people fear me and be disgusted by my very existence? Who the fuck would¡¯ve hired someone who can¡¯t be outside during the day and can¡¯t see very well? I was good at this.¡±


    Qurrinel took a deep breath, and Quentin did the same. The two eyed each other with nearly identical baleful glares before Quirrinel broke and looked away. ¡°I¡¯m genuinely happy to see you, son,¡± he said in a voice laced with restraint. ¡°I¡¯m even more glad that you¡¯re retired. What brings you here today?¡±


    There was no use rehashing the same old arguments that led to the same fights over and over again. Going around in circles was exhausting and wouldn¡¯t get them anywhere. Quentin swallowed his anger and years of resentment and moved on. ¡°You remember Demetrius at the Colosseum?¡± His father nodded. Quentin¡¯s eyes dropped. ¡°He was killed last night. Because of me.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Oh, I¡¯m so sorry Quentin,¡± he said, reaching out and falling short of Quentin¡¯s shoulder as he thought better of it. ¡°I remember when you started working in the practice yard, and you brought him home for dinner. He¡¯s the only one I could remember treating you like a real person. He spent the whole night teasing you and talking about how sloppy you were and it was the first time I saw you not get angry at being criticized so much. What happened?¡±


    Quentin ran a hand through his hair. Where did he even begin? Moving past his father he grabbed one of the two stools and sat himself down, slumping over. ¡°I¡¯m mostly retired, but they wanted me for one last job. You don¡¯t want to know the details,¡± he quickly added, heading off any questions before his father could even think of them. Quirrinel nodded in gratitude and took the other stool. ¡°Demetrius did me a favor and decided to work security for my new business.¡±


    ¡°Your new business?¡±


    Gods, how did he explain this? ¡°Yeah¡­so. A few weeks before I retired, I met a prostitute on the way home. We got to talking, went out drinking together, and before she left she told me she knew who I was. We ended up becoming friends after she blackmailed me to let her stay in my house. Within a week she introduced me to her friends, we all hit it off, and now I kind of sort of own a whorehouse.¡±


    Quirrinel blinked. He worked his mouth open and shut but no sound came out. He stood up abruptly and went into the kitchen nook. He came back with a bottle of cheap liquor and set it down on the work table near them. ¡°Alright. You¡¯re going to start from the beginning, and tell me everything.¡± He pushed the bottle over to Quentin.


    Taking the bottle with a smile, Quentin said, ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a long story. But that night, I got injured during a fight, and had to walk home instead of taking the beetles. That¡¯s when I met Razia¡­¡±


    It was oddly freeing, to be able to talk about all of it with a person who hadn¡¯t been in his life at all for the better part of a decade. Quirrinel knew Quentin¡¯s life up to him getting his villa, but everything after that was just what he overheard about the executions from friends and neighbors who went. He told his father all about meeting Razia, and how playful and fun she was. About her bad past, the way it kept coming back to bite her, only to miss and sink its fangs into someone else instead.


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    He told Quirrinel about Samantha and the Silk Lounge, the three gangsters who tried to hunt Razia down, meeting the other girls. He told him about Maria and Lucy and Isa, and how he¡¯d fought for them and protected them against a harsh and uncaring nightlife. The way he¡¯d found people who didn¡¯t know what he did other than the fact that he was on their side, and how they welcomed him and became his friends. And then the fight that ended in death and Quentin¡¯s arrest, and the revelation that he was working as a pimp without knowing it.


    That made Quirrinel laugh so hard Quentin half expected the neighbors to come in and check on them. He had to wipe tears out of his eyes before motioning for Quentin to continue the story, never interrupting him save to ask for clarification here and there. That led to finding Maria behind bars, trying to save her and failing, and Quentin¡¯s failures in protecting the girls. All the way up to buying a place and spending the last month and a half having the time of his life.


    He spared no detail about any of the girls or how he felt about them. Lucy was cute and he had to protect her, Jenna was chatty and not much phased her, Lynne was a bit snooty but Samantha was the friendliest woman in the world. He had no clue what went on in Isa¡¯s head but oh how he respected how genuine and honest she was. And about Razia¡­Quentin talked about her the most.


    ¡°So I woke up with her curled up against me,¡± said Quentin, finishing off the liquor. It made an already warm day sweltering, but he couldn¡¯t deny how much he needed to loosen up. It did wonders for his father as well, and Quirrinel was as animated and pleased as Quentin could ever remember seeing him. ¡°I confronted her about all of this, and she told me more. What I think is everything. I don¡¯t know if I can ever trust her again.¡±


    Quirrinel took a deep breath, blinking as he thought about it. His tolerance was lower than Quentin¡¯s, and he was comfortably drunk. ¡°Well,¡± he started. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But you know what I do know? I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve got a girlfriend.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face heated up even more. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know what we are,¡± he said.


    ¡°Pfft. C¡¯mon now,¡± Quirrinel prodded. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve been together since just after she moved in.¡±


    ¡°But we haven¡¯t done anything,¡± Quentin said. It felt like every time he told that to someone, it sounded weaker and weaker to his ears. ¡°Razia would¡¯ve, but I¡¯ve had issues since¡­¡± He didn¡¯t need to finish the sentence, and drunk as he was, Quirrinel knew better than to bring it up.


    ¡°And?¡± Quirrinel scoffed. ¡°Over the last hour, you¡¯ve spent half of it talking about her. How you¡¯ve done basically everything you have because of her. You kept getting this look in your face every time you talked about times when you two got close.¡± He screwed up his face and took on a wistful, faraway look and sighed dramatically.


    ¡°Shut up, I do not,¡± Quentin grumbled, looking away. ¡°How can I trust her? She¡¯s never told me everything, and --¡±


    ¡°Did you ask?¡±


    Quentin froze. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said, did you ask her?¡± Quirrinel sat up straight. When Quentin didn¡¯t answer, his sloppy smile turned smug. ¡°You know, about all the things you say she was keeping from you. Did you ever ask about it, or did you just leave it in the past and ignore it?¡±


    Suddenly, Quentin was brought back to being a small child, caught doing something wrong that in hindsight had been very stupid. ¡°No,¡± he said, groaning. ¡°Yes. She told me the basics but I never pushed for more. Whenever it comes up she says something to shrug it off and I never pry. Especially about her clients.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, yeah,¡± Quirrinel nodded. ¡°About that. What are your thoughts on her seeing as many people as she does? Is that what¡¯s kept you from going for it? I¡¯ve known plenty of men who would happily enjoy being with a whore, but would never marry one.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn about that,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Mostly. I don¡¯t judge her for what she does, just like she didn¡¯t judge me. But I¡­I don¡¯t want to be another guy. One of many. I want it to matter. I want to matter.¡±


    Quirrinel nodded in understanding. ¡°Who says it wouldn¡¯t? I loved your mother more than anything in the world. But when she got sick, she encouraged me to see others. Especially when she knew she wasn¡¯t getting better. When I did, it was nice, but it was different. It¡¯s not the same as when you love someone.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t know how to process that. Part of him wanted to immediately take a swing at his father for cheating on his mother, but¡­If she was okay with it, why shouldn¡¯t he be? It hurt, but it wasn¡¯t his business. That wasn¡¯t even what stopped him in his tracks. It was that word. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure we love each other,¡± he said. ¡°How the fuck would I even know what love is like? Not like I¡¯ve had much of it.¡±


    That smug, knowing smile came back. ¡°Sure. But I imagine she has. Have you asked her?¡±


    Maybe this was the real reason Quentin hadn¡¯t come back in years. There was no one in the world who could make him feel stupid quite so easily as his father. ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t even the main problem. Whatever we are, she¡¯s the reason Demetrius is dead, and so am I. If it wasn¡¯t for her pissing off her dangerous shaper ex-boyfriend, we wouldn¡¯t have been attacked and Demetrius wouldn¡¯t have been hurt trying to save her.¡±


    ¡°And why do you think he tried to save her?¡± Quirrinel scoffed. ¡°She matters to you, and you mattered to him. He was a grown-ass man and he made a decision, because he wanted you to be happy. Should you be pissed off and hurting? Absolutely. That doesn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t make a choice. That also doesn¡¯t mean you and your girl shouldn¡¯t own up to your end of it, but you didn¡¯t make him do anything.¡±


    How did one explain what it was like to lose your oldest friend? Quentin¡¯s life had been filled with violent death, but this was different. This wasn¡¯t him sending a condemned soul on their way or losing his mother to sickness. This was Demetrius, the turtle, the immovable object. The man who could outlast any of them and had one of the longest and most successful careers in the Colosseum¡¯s history. And just like that, he was gone.


    ¡°It hurts,¡± Quentin said. ¡°I¡¯m not used to losing people. I¡¯ve never had anyone to lose. He wasn¡¯t supposed to die like this. Not for me.¡± He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes to keep them dry. ¡°He thought the same that you did. That I should¡¯ve quit years ago and done something else. And he was happy that I was finally out. But he didn¡¯t trust Razia and told me I was making a bad decision.


    ¡°But,¡± he said before Quirrinel could interject with something truthful that would make him feel stupid, ¡°he didn¡¯t try to stop me. He told me how he felt about her but didn¡¯t try to tell me to stop or leave her. But how can I stay with her after this?¡±


    Quirrinel sat up straight. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said.


    Quentin tilted his head to the side. ¡°I am?¡±


    His father nodded enthusiastically. ¡°You are! How could you stay with her after this? You should leave her. Tell her to get the fuck out of your house, out of your life, and to take her problems with her. You don¡¯t need to deal with that shit. Let her deal with assassins. When she dies, it won¡¯t be your problem.¡±


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Quentin said. ¡°I don¡¯t want Razia to die! I don¡¯t want anything bad to happen to her. It wouldn¡¯t bring Demetrius back.¡±


    ¡°No, but what do you think happens if you decide that you two are through? She¡¯ll still be in danger. And you¡¯ll either let her die because it¡¯s not your problem, or you¡¯ll make it your problem and keep her close. There¡¯s really only two options here, Quentin.¡±


    All Quentin could do was sigh. His father was right. Maybe he¡¯d been right all along. ¡°Why are you so intent on me forgiving Razia? After everything I¡¯ve said?¡±


    Quirrinel stood up and gathered their cups and the bottle before going back to the kitchen nook. He brought them both back some water, which Quentin happily accepted after the long talk. ¡°Because every parent wants to see their child happy, and you wouldn¡¯t be this miserable about it all if she didn¡¯t make you happy. We all want to see our children find someone.¡±


    It came back to happiness, but at what point in his life had his happiness ever been a choice he could make without having to pay dearly for it? He chuckled ruefully. ¡°The only things that make me happy are things that are bad for me. Destructive, even.¡±


    That made his father smile and shake his head. ¡°In the end, life is going to kill us. So long as you¡¯re not hurting someone else, why not live doing the things you love? I¡¯d rather let something I love kill me than to go through life without.¡±


    It gave Quentin something to think about, even as he already knew what decision he had already made. ¡°Things have to change,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t let something like this happen again. And I need to tell her that. Thank you, dad.¡± He surprised his father by hugging him. His father hugged him back tighter and they stayed there until Quirrinel pulled away, slapping Quentin on the back a couple of times.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger, Quentin. I¡¯d love to meet her sometime.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°You should come over sometime. We¡¯ll get some spicy noodles and you can meet the girls.¡±


    Quirrinel looked hopeful. ¡°Does family --¡±


    ¡°Yes, family gets a discount.¡± He shook his head, smiling.


    All that remained was to go back and set down some terms. Losing Demetrius still hurt, and Quentin knew it would hurt for a long time. There was no escaping it, no hiding in a bottle again. He couldn¡¯t afford to do that, and in spite of everything that happened, he realized he did want his life. Every part of his life. And he¡¯d do whatever he had to to keep it safe.

 Chapter 73: A New Contract

    Chapter 73: A New Contract


    In the end, Razia didn¡¯t run. She could¡¯ve claimed it was out of guilt and because she wanted to do the right thing, and that wouldn¡¯t have been a lie, but it wasn¡¯t the whole truth either. The sad fact was that it was just impractical to run. The day after an incursion from southern gangs, Cicero was liable to be getting every bit of information he could and watching all the ways in and out of the city. Razia might¡¯ve been able to do it with enough shards to bribe or smuggle her way out, but ever since moving in with Quentin she didn¡¯t keep much money on hand. With him paying for almost everything, stealing from him in order to get away from facing him would¡¯ve been bad, even for her.


    So instead, Razia did the best she could. She cleaned herself up, got something small to eat, and planned ahead for possible consequences. It was calming, in a way. Either Quentin would kick her out and they¡¯d be done, or he wouldn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t see him doing any worse than that. Quentin was many things, but cruel was not one of them. Not like her, with her need to tweak the noses of people who annoyed her.


    Cicero worried her more. She¡¯d paid dearly for his initial protection, and then more and more in information along the way. How far would that go? Powerful men had little reason to stick to any deals that were no longer benefiting them. There was always the risk of losing face at canceling a standing agreement, but that only mattered when the person they betrayed was important. It was doubtful any of the major players of the North Orchrisus Underworld would give a shit if Cicero just handed Razia over to Piro to save himself the headache.


    But that was a problem for later. It would happen or it wouldn¡¯t, there was nothing she could do now. Nothing until Quentin came back home and she found out what was going to happen to them. For now, all she could do was distract herself and keep going on. Razia spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, making sure she didn¡¯t look too tired, too battered, or like she had been crying. She put on different smiles until she found the right one, tired but relaxed. Then she headed over to the Garden.


    It was close to noon, but none of the girls were out of their rooms. Usually at this point at least Jenna would be out there and taking up half a couch on her own and there would be one or two people talking or eating something before going out for a bit. Maybe they were already gone. Maybe they were looking for some place else to work so this didn¡¯t happen again. Either way, Razia had her mess to clean up before she could worry about that.


    One of the Warlords died there the night before. His body had already been removed but there was a long, dark streak where the coppers dragged his body out for identification and transportation. She shouldn¡¯t have been surprised that they made more work for her, but she was. Maybe she even deserved the trouble. This was yet another dead body because of her. Not that she would weep over a dead Warlord. Sighing, Razia grabbed a bucket and a sponge and filled it with water and soap from the kitchen.


    Truth be told, Razia had minimal experience cleaning anything, let alone dried up blood. There¡¯d always been other people to do that. When scrubbing seemed to do nothing, she dumped the soapy water all over the floor and went to refill the bucket, hoping the water would help soften up the mess. She got on her hands and knees and worked at a small spot on the floor, wincing at how big the task was. If she wasn¡¯t going to run, then she had to clean up after herself.


    Fifteen minutes later one of the doors opened. Samantha came out and stood over Razia while she worked. Razia looked up and greeted her but went back to her task. She was making some headway now, even if it was going to take her all day she¡¯d do it. Samantha didn¡¯t say anything at first. She went into the storage room and came out with another sponge and joined Razia on the ground, silently scraping the rough material against the tiles.


    She wasn¡¯t the only one. Lucy eventually came out, as did Jenna. When they saw what Razia and Samantha were up to, they joined in without saying a word. Even Jenna remained quiet as she worked. When Isa came out, she sat on a nearby loveseat instead. Razia looked up to see that the woman looked about as haunted as she herself felt. The dusk-girl stared off into space somewhere vaguely near them, but Razia didn¡¯t think she really saw them on the ground.


    Little by little, the brown smear on the floor was wiped away. Without needing to be asked, Lucy dumped the bucket and came back with a fresh one, and then came back again with an armful of tattered rags they used to dry away the water and wipe away the last remnants of blood. After an hour of work, the spot was gone as if it was never there to begin with. Tired and wonderfully sore from the effort, Razia sat back on the floor, wiping away sweat.


    ¡°Thank you girls,¡± she said, looking around. Lucy looked about as tired as she did, while Samantha mostly looked nervous. Jenna met her gaze, and Razia braced herself.


    ¡°What the fuck happened last night?¡± Jenna said.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Isa said from her spot on the loveseat. ¡°More people came for Razia. How long is this going to keep happening?¡±


    ¡°Would you give her a break?¡± Samantha demanded. ¡°It¡¯s not like she¡¯s doing this on purpose.¡±


    ¡°No Sam,¡± Razia put her hand on Samantha¡¯s arm. ¡°She¡¯s right. This shouldn¡¯t be happening. If it hadn¡¯t been for Quentin, I¡¯d probably be dead right now. You all deserve better than this.¡±


    ¡°And where was Quentin?¡± Isa said, standing up. Normally so elegant and composed, her hair was frizzy and there was a wild look to her eyes. ¡°You said he was taking a personal night, but he shows up shortly after and then just arms up and rescues you? And we¡¯re supposed to accept everything is fine?¡±


    The other faces showed the same curiosity, the same need to know. Sighing, Razia looked down. ¡°Quentin killed several of the men who invaded the Garden. Others were arrested, and most of the problem is already dealt with. We¡¯ve got this under control.¡±


    ¡°Until next time,¡± Isa scoffed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to seem like I¡¯m on Isa¡¯s side,¡± said Jenna, earning a dirty look from Isa, ¡°but she¡¯s got a point. What¡¯s going to stop them from trying again? What if they take more of us as hostages to make sure Mr. Q can¡¯t act?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Q can handle it,¡± Samantha insisted. ¡°He did in the past, he did last night too. We¡¯re going to be just fine.¡±


    Gods how she loved Samantha¡¯s faith in them. If only it was deserved. Razia climbed to her feet, smoothing out her dress. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have to. This is my problem, and I¡¯m dealing with it. I¡¯m going to make sure this doesn¡¯t happen again.¡±


    ¡°You say that,¡± Jenna pressed, ¡°but how? Isa¡¯s right in that it keeps happening. Samantha¡¯s right in that Mr. Q keeps handling it. What exactly are you going to do to stop it from happening? What happens when Mr. Q decides that this is too much of a hassle and we have to go back to taverns? I mean, I¡¯ve got some savings now, but I don¡¯t want to have to go back to sifting through shit at an inn when we¡¯ve got men with money and class coming for us now.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to find a new place to stay,¡± Lucy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. ¡°I like it here. I don¡¯t want things to change.¡±


    This was the real cost of her actions, Razia reminded herself. These were good people, and all of her good intentions in the world didn¡¯t mean shit if they were the ones who were put at risk by her behavior. She wanted to do right by them, even as she kept failing them. Razia could outrun nearly any fire she started, but that didn¡¯t mean bystanders didn¡¯t get burned. She forced a smile and shrugged.


    ¡°Mr. Cicero¡¯s not going to be happy about this. I¡¯m going to talk to him about having better vision on the bridges to prevent this from happening again. Or at least, to give us better warning. When Quentin gets back, he¡¯ll --¡±


    ¡°And where is he now?¡± Isa challenged. ¡°Are we completely open in case your old friends care to try again? Or is he hiding in his room and feeling sorry for himself again?¡±


    Razia took a deep, calming breath. ¡°He took a wound during last night¡¯s fights and he¡¯s getting it patched up. I chose to stay home and clean up and check in on all of you. When he gets back he and I are going to figure out a long term plan.¡± Or he¡¯d tell her to fuck off for good. Maybe she should¡¯ve felt bad for lying more, but they needed hope right now. They didn¡¯t need to know how close it all was to coming unraveled.


    Footsteps echoed in the hall. Everyone looked up to see Quentin trudging his way in. He looked about as bad as Razia felt, run down and battered. His cloak hid the horrible wound on his shoulder, most of the way healed already, but Razia saw the way he carefully held himself to avoid aggravating it worse. What surprised her was the smell of alcohol coming off of him from several feet away.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said, coughing to clear his throat. His eyes slid over all of them, lingering on Razia and making her want to shrink. ¡°Is everyone doing okay? Did anyone else get hurt?¡±


    ¡°Just scared,¡± Jenna said. ¡°Last night was fucking terrifying. I mean, we had those two friends of yours to guard us but they just walked right in like they didn¡¯t matter!¡±


    Quentin flinched, but nodded to show his understanding. ¡°My friends are¡­were great at what they do. But we were expecting a few unruly clients at worst, not an invading force. We¡¯re not going to let it happen again and if it does, I promise that every single person who crosses us is going to end up dead or locked up for the rest of their miserable lives.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Razia blinked. Did that mean that he was still going to be doing this go forward? She wanted to hope, but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn¡¯t go away. This is what he was telling them, what would he tell her? Trying to read his expression was pointless. When it was just the two of them he wore every emotion on his sleeve, but he was putting on the same brave face she was.


    ¡°Are you okay, Mr. Q?¡± Lucy asked, coming up close. To her credit, she barely made a face at the way he smelled. ¡°Razia said you got hurt.¡±


    The smile he sent her way was real, at least. Real enough for Razia to be hopeful. Lucy was one of the girls he liked best, and she couldn¡¯t picture him abandoning her. ¡°Yeah, but it wasn¡¯t too bad. I¡¯ll live. But you can consider this a good time for another three days or so off of work while we figure things out. That¡¯s actually what I¡¯m here for. Razia and I need to talk.¡± His inscrutable gaze fell to her.


    That sinking feeling in her stomach plummeted. There was no getting out of this. She nodded to him. ¡°We should probably go do that as soon as possible. We¡¯re going to do everything in our power to make sure this doesn¡¯t happen again and the Garden will be run smoothly and safely.¡±


    ¡°We know you¡¯re good for it,¡± Samantha said, puffing up. The redhead looked like she believed it, too. Not for the first time, Razia was amazed that Orchrisus could produce someone that soft and kind and good, when the rest of them were worn down or warped by the city.


    Razia went up to Quentin¡¯s side. He nodded to her and they left together. Razia looked over her shoulder to see Isa glaring daggers at them. That wasn¡¯t new so much as something she thought they were done with. The past month and a half had done wonders for the Ramali woman¡¯s temperament and now it was back to square one. Whatever, she had bigger problems to worry about.


    She followed Quentin back through the garden and the courtyard to their home, and right back onto the lounger where they had spent so many hours talking. He sat down on one side of it facing outwards, and she sat down on the other side. He shrugged out of his cloak and Razia winced at the sight of his shoulder. It was red and swollen, but if it was as bad as he said it was it looked damned good now.


    ¡°Quentin, I¡¯m really sorry,¡± she started. ¡°What happened was completely unacceptable and --¡±


    ¡°I think I want to do the talking,¡± he said, surprising her. ¡°You talk a lot more than I do. It¡¯s my turn.¡±


    Razia swallowed and gestured for him to continue while trying to bury the feeling of panic clawing its way out of her. She owed him this much, at least. Whatever his decision was, there was no running away. She¡¯d face it and deal with it, and then what happened would happen.


    ¡°What you¡¯ve done is not okay,¡± he said. ¡°Not getting people killed, not helping out gangsters, not lying to¡­basically everyone you talk to. You really have a problem, and I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re going to change. I don¡¯t know if you even can change or if this is just who you are.¡± Quentin didn¡¯t sound angry so much as tired and resigned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I could possibly trust you again after all of this. If I just take it and we move on, what¡¯s to stop you from doing this again at the first opportunity? My gut is telling me to just tell you to leave and for me to walk away from all of this.¡± Razia shrank with every new word. She thought of what she could say or do to plead that he not punish the girls because of her. Then he surprised her. ¡°But the worst part is I can¡¯t.¡±


    Quentin laughed bitterly and buried his face in his hands. ¡°You¡¯re good at what you do, and part of me hates you for it. I can¡¯t just walk away. What would I even do? I¡¯m retired at the Colosseum now and after last night I don¡¯t think Amicus is going to ask me for any more favors. How could I just sit around drinking myself into a stupor after I¡¯ve gotten to live for a bit? How could I throw you out when you¡¯re the only thing that¡¯s made me feel good about myself?


    ¡°You may be a terrible liar Razia, but you¡¯ve kept your most important promise to me.¡± Quentin turned towards her, expression softening. ¡°You¡¯ve shown me what life could be like, how to have more fun, and how to be a person around others again instead of just¡­hiding and waiting to die. For as much a fucking mess of a person as you are, you¡¯re¡­you. Remember when you first cornered me in here? You asked me what I wanted. Ask me again, Razia.¡±


    Hope stirred in her chest. She¡¯d remained silent as he requested, but as he went on and the pain gave way to hope, she wanted to latch onto it and give her side of things, encourage him, do everything in her power to guide things towards an outcome she wanted. It looked like she wouldn¡¯t have to do that. ¡°Alright, Mr. Q,¡± she said, unable to resist smiling at him. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    He moved closer to her, until their knees were touching. ¡°I want to keep going.¡± he said, icy blue eyes locked on hers. ¡°If I¡¯m going to be a high end pimp, I want to have the best whorehouse in all of Orchrisus. If we¡¯re going to keep this place safe, I want to figure out how to make it happen so that none of my girls get hurt. And that includes you. I¡­I want you, Razia. But I don¡¯t want to be your muscle of the month until you run away again, and I don¡¯t want to be your charity project.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t,¡± said Razia, unable to stay silent. ¡°You were never my charity project. Well,¡± she amended, shrugging, ¡°not after the first night. That first night, I really did want to see what I could do to make you feel better, give you just a little moment of happiness. It wasn¡¯t out of pity. It was compassion, and¡­pride, I guess, that I could make it happen. After that? Everything¡¯s been real. I haven¡¯t been playing with you Quentin. Ask me what I want.¡±


    Quentin studied her. ¡°Alright. What do you want, Razia?¡±


    Maybe she could¡¯ve given a speech or pleaded her case, or done any number of things to say she was sorry and that she wanted much the same as him. It wouldn¡¯t have had quite the same punch as showing it all. So Razia gathered all of her hopes, her affection, her dreams of the future, the combined weight of a couple of months of growing closer and closer. She grabbed Quentin by the front of his tunic and pulled him in to kiss her.


    He didn¡¯t fight her this time. It was like on the bridge, something tentative and cautious, seeking more. She broke away, stomach fluttering as she just let her words come tumbling out without restraint or any plans guiding them. ¡°I want you. You. You¡¯ve spent so much time hating yourself and hiding that you don¡¯t even see what kind of man you are. You¡¯re good, Quentin.¡± She laughed, shaking her head and leaned against him. ¡°After everything you¡¯ve been through, you could easily be the world¡¯s biggest bastard. But you aren¡¯t. You¡­you make me want to be a better person.¡±


    Quentin shook his head and opened his mouth to protest but Razia put a finger against his lips. ¡°None of that self deprecating crap. I want to keep going, and to do better. I want to do it at your side. With you in charge,¡± she said, ignoring the way her worst self screamed at the loss of control. ¡°You¡¯ll have me and I can help you plan, but what you say goes.¡±


    ¡°And no more lies,¡± he said pointedly.


    ¡°And no more lies,¡± Razia promised. All of her anxieties melted away and she was left with this happy, giddy wave that made her want to cry more than his anger did. ¡°We¡¯ll talk to Cicero and make this right. We¡¯ll beat Piro and build something great. You and me.¡±


    He smiled, but then something occurred to him and he pulled away. ¡°If¡­If we¡¯re going to be a thing, then I want it to be a real thing. I don¡¯t want to be an afterthought, or just one of many. I don¡¯t want to ask you to stop what you¡¯re doing, because I don¡¯t think it¡¯s bad but¡­¡±


    There it was. Razia couldn¡¯t help but laugh. It always came down to this with men, and it was something she supposed she couldn¡¯t blame them for, even if it wasn¡¯t the same for her. ¡°You want me to be yours and yours alone,¡± she said.


    Quentin looked down. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± That surprised him. Razia took his hand in hers and brought it up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. ¡°You¡¯ve been my patron this entire time, Quentin. It started as a cover story, but it¡¯s been true, hasn¡¯t it? It¡¯s common for patrons to demand exclusivity, and it¡¯s something I¡¯m willing to do. So here¡¯s what I offer, Mr. Q. From now until the end of summer, I¡¯m yours and yours alone. If you want to part ways or renegotiate our terms at that time, we will. But for now until then, the only people I will take to bed are you and anyone else you bring in.¡±


    His face lit up in surprise and alarm. ¡°Anyone else I bring in?¡±


    Oh, it was so hard not to go full predator at this point. Maybe he hadn¡¯t fully forgiven her and she wouldn¡¯t blame him if he hadn¡¯t, but she couldn¡¯t help the relief she felt. Things would go forward and he¡¯d give her a chance. Anything else was just her being a brat. And after spending the last few hours tormented and worried about how he¡¯d react, it was impossible not to be a little playful and take joy where she could. After a month and a half of frustration, could anyone really blame her?


    ¡°Well, of course,¡± Razia said, grinning wickedly. ¡°Just because we¡¯re together doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not who I am. I¡¯ll always be a whore, Quentin.¡± She decided to go for it and straddled his lap, hands meeting behind his neck to hang off him. ¡°But until the end of summer, I¡¯ll be your whore. And we¡¯ve got so much fun ahead of us, it would be a shame to not show you every delight you¡¯ve been missing.¡±


    To Razia¡¯s dark delight, color rushed to his face and his eye twitched. He battled himself internally, and maybe she shouldn¡¯t have gotten enjoyment from pushing him, but he wasn¡¯t rejecting her. Not entirely. His arms circled around her and kept her close. ¡°You know I¡¯m not going to be very good, right? I¡¯m probably crap after this long.¡±


    ¡°Oh Quentin,¡± Razia sighed. ¡°Do you really think that¡¯s going to last? By the time I¡¯m done with you, you¡¯ll be able to charge for it.¡±


    He made a helpless sound in the back of his throat. Razia smiled. It wasn¡¯t fair, the way she ducked consequence after consequence and still got what she wanted. But for the first time in her life, she really wasn¡¯t lying about anything. She wanted to do better, and as far as she was concerned the best way was through him. That didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t have some fun along the way. They had tons of work ahead of them and would need to deal with more dangerous men, but for now? They had each other. They could afford one day to recover together.


    Quentin closed his eyes. He was smiling, but it was almost sad. ¡°I still don¡¯t forgive you,¡± he said. ¡°About Demetrius. I don¡¯t forgive you and I don¡¯t forgive myself for it. I¡¯m not sure I can.¡±


    Some of the anxiety and pain came back, but Razia brushed it aside. ¡°I know,¡± she said. ¡°I understand. I can¡¯t change the past, but I¡¯m going to do better in the future. You have my word, for what little that¡¯s worth right now. All I want to do is make things right and make us happy and safe.¡±


    His smile grew a bit. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking for.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow I¡¯ll set up a meeting with Mr. Cicero,¡± said Razia. ¡°We¡¯ll talk this out and find a solution. But for the rest of today let¡¯s rest and just¡­See how things go, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± Quentin leaned in, hesitantly, and Razia placed a simple, gentle kiss on his lips. He sighed against her, resting his head against hers.


    ¡°For now¡­¡± said Razia, unable to help herself. ¡°How about we take a bath and recover?¡±


    For the first time since they met, he said yes.

 Chapter 74: Pit Dog Nostalgia

    Chapter 74: Pit Dog Nostalgia


    Although he knew where they were going before they arrived, actually seeing the place stopped Quentin in his tracks. In a busy part of town southeast of his home, right where the middle class and lower class overlapped was a familiar building, painted with minimalist scenes of men battling. The faceless men on the building punched and grappled and warred with one another from every side, with one proud conqueror standing tall above double doors, fists raised triumphantly.


    ¡°Everything okay Quentin?¡± Razia asked with more than her normal amount of concern, putting her hand on his arm. She was more cautious with him now, almost comically so. Maybe in the past Quentin would¡¯ve seen it as genuine concern, but now he knew it for what it was: guilt. The abduction and loss weighed on them both.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, sighing. ¡°I just used to come around here a lot as a teenager. Why is it that the problems we face are always your past coming back to bite us in the ass, but the solution is always a painful place for me? This is a load of shit.¡± He flashed her a crooked smile.


    ¡°If and when we get this problem taken care of, we¡¯ll take a vacation, just the two of us. How does that sound?¡± Razia smiled at him, and it was hard not to go dizzy at the sight. He still hadn¡¯t fully forgiven her, but things were¡­Complicated, now. Both better and worse than they were.


    ¡°You¡¯re on.¡± They stepped forward, acknowledging the two bulky men at the door with respectful nods and grunts. They were hit with a wall of thick, sticky heat as they crossed the threshold. It was only spring and Quentin wanted to tear his cloak off. Come summer it would be unbearable and would likely still be as crowded as it was right then. Quentin pushed their way through the crowd, hand intertwined with Razias as he led her in deeper.


    Fight clubs weren¡¯t uncommon in Orchrisus. Go to any random neighborhood and there were bound to be people in a makeshift ring, fighting for some spare shards and the adulation of their friends and neighbors. They were anything from just a few people who tested themselves against each other to miniature colosseums, bringing in an audience and gambling. Anywhere in North Orchrisus with a wager of any kind belonged to Mr. Cicero or one of his associates.


    So Quentin really wasn¡¯t surprised when this turned out to be where their meeting would take place. It was a pointed reminder of their own shared past, limited though it was. Unlike the Temple, the Kennel as it was called wasn¡¯t nearly as full of bad memories. There were memories, loaded ones, but there was good to be had with the painful. If it wasn¡¯t for his time here, he wouldn¡¯t have ended up at the Colosseum. Quentin would take every silver lining he could get.


    The ground floor was an extended entrance, with men standing behind barred off counters exchanging shards and bet slips for the fights below. There was a line to get in, but not for them. Quentin led them around to the front. The doorman paused, eyed him and Razia, then nodded for them to go down. His heart pounded as memories trickled in with every step down.


    The stink of sweat and blood was thick enough to taste, and the air was hazy. Razia made a face and coughed, grateful to descend lower where the air was clearer. Most of the building was underground, where it remained the same temperature year round and they controlled the only entrances and exits. Alchemical lights hung from the ceiling, some spinning and casting dim blue circles over the dozens of people down below. The majority of them hung around pits dug further into the ground, where men and women would do their best to tear each other apart like savages.


    Quentin¡¯s eyes lingered uncomfortably on a teenage combatant picking himself up off the ground. Blood streamed freely from his nose. The teen wiped it off and launched himself at his bigger opponent while people screamed and cheered. He tore his gaze away and continued up to the far wall, where a raised platform held a place for Mr. Cicero and guests to watch the festivities away from the constant press of the crowd. Two guards stood at the steps.


    ¡°I believe we¡¯re expected,¡± said Razia, smiling widely and turning on the charm.


    One of the two thumb-like men smiled back at her. The other was all business and motioned for her to come close. He patted her down thoroughly and she gamely took it without making a joke or stink about it. Then it was Quentin¡¯s turn and the man found his new knife. He took it and held it up. ¡°You can have this back when you¡¯re done,¡± he grunted, stepping out of the way and motioning for Quentin and Razia to ascend.


    Mr. Cicero was sitting in a plush chair too expensive for the surroundings with a glass of liquor in one hand and a cigar in the other. A thin, reedy looking man in spectacles was talking to him animatedly, leaning over and whispering in his ear while Cicero nodded every now and then. Seeing Quentin, Cicero waved a hand and the man straightened up. He bowed his head respectfully to Cicero and then left the platform, eyeing Quentin suspiciously as he went.


    ¡°Mr. Q, Ms. Rashid,¡± Cicero greeted, standing and setting his drink down. He shook each of their hands in turn, smirking. ¡°You brought some trouble to my doorstep, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of looking at it,¡± said Razia. ¡°I think we both know the problem is Piro Pentius. He disrespected you by intruding on your territory, and he won¡¯t stop disrespecting you until he gets what he wants.¡±


    ¡°That might be true,¡± Cicero conceded, ¡°but the day after the unfortunate incident at your business he sent a messenger with an apology and a fat sack of shards. A hundred aquilos to make up for crossing the border and working in my territory. Not only that, but he¡¯s offered another two hundred for me to hand you over to him. It¡¯s not the worst offer I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    Quentin forcibly unclenched his fists before he could hurt himself. ¡°Please don¡¯t take that offer.¡± He kept his voice even and as soft as the dull roar of the venue would allow, but Cicero wasn¡¯t fooled. This was a polite threat.


    ¡°And why not?¡± Cicero shrugged, waving his cigar in the air. ¡°He¡¯s offering a fair amount to guarantee peace and stability. It would make him happy and it would remove a recurring source of drama and intrigue. A source of drama that I have no real obligation to protect. Now, if you were one of my tributaries it would be different, but you sadly declined.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon Mr. Cicero,¡± said Razia, ¡°you¡¯re not going to punish us for wanting to remain independent are you? I thought we came up with a decent alternative and have had a good working relationship. Is a one time payoff really equal to what we can offer over time?¡± She was smiling, but there was a quiet fear there, under the surface. It was a subtle thing, but Quentin knew her well enough by now to recognize it.


    ¡°A one time payoff that ensures you can¡¯t cause any more trouble. Those closest to me have advised me to take the deal, maybe try to bury the hatchet with Piro after all this time. Your pretty little head would go a long way towards mending that rift.¡± He took a puff of his cigar and blew the smoke out the side of his smile.


    Razia¡¯s expression dropped. Right then she had the same look on her face as she had when she and Quentin had their fight just a couple days before. It was a mix of shock and the sudden realization that things weren¡¯t going her way. Cicero savored the expression, opening his mouth to speak. Quentin beat him to the punch.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Whatever he¡¯s offering, I can match it,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Under no circumstances is Razia going to be handed over to him. Not while I¡¯m still alive.¡± He put his hand on Razia¡¯s shoulder and pulled her closer to him. Her arm went around his waist and together they stared the crime lord down.


    ¡°Some might take that as an invitation to threaten you,¡± said Cicero, stroking his salt and pepper beard. ¡°But I think that would be pointless. You¡¯re not the type to listen to warnings or threats. Maybe you can match this offer, but I¡¯m not sure your pockets are as deep as Piro¡¯s. I know exactly how well you¡¯re doing, and while it¡¯s an impressive start it doesn¡¯t compare to a man with over a decade of squeezing a third of the city. He can outspend you, he¡¯s got more manpower than you, and he¡¯s got an ax to grind. What do you have?¡±


    Before meeting Razia, Quentin hadn¡¯t exactly had much experience with Mr. Cicero. Certainly not enough to be able to claim to understand how he did things or what went on in his head. Three years working in one of Cicero¡¯s businesses had at least put Quentin in a place to hear enough stories and gossip to hear a few consistent things.


    He was a prideful man. Anyone in his position would be. Cicero wasn¡¯t nearly as violent or destructive as other people under him were. He demanded respect and obedience, but he wasn¡¯t known to be sadistic or cruel if he didn¡¯t have to be. Business is what mattered to him. Business and control, and maintaining his kingdom. Quentin didn¡¯t think he was a threat to any of that, and he didn¡¯t think Cicero¡¯s pride was that tender.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Quentin, trying to sound more confident than he felt, ¡°since you know exactly how well we¡¯re doing, I imagine you have something particular in mind that you want from us in exchange for a bit of protection and not handing Razia over.¡± Razia squeezed his side gratefully.


    Mr. Cicero said nothing at first. He took another puff of his cigar and then dropped it in the glass ashtray next to his seat. He turned out towards the rest of the room and leaned against the railing around the platform. He motioned with his head for them to join him. Quentin mimicked his pose and Razia went to his side, keeping Quentin between her and Mr. Cicero.


    Below them was the largest of the pits, surrounded by people ready for the show. In it was a man half a head taller than Quentin and built like a behemoth beetle. He leaned against the wall, nursing a bottle of wine. Half his face was swollen, with one eye sealed shut but Quentin knew that whoever he fought last was in a much worse state. He looked to be in no hurry to go anywhere. Maybe another fight was brewing.


    ¡°All of the people in here work for me or work for someone who works for me,¡± said Cicero, gesturing out at the room. ¡°Even you did at one point. I never knew you personally, of course, but I knew of you. You were a curiosity. An angry moonkissed teen who lost nearly every fight you were in, but always showed up for more. We had no shortage of kids trying to make some quick shards, but none of them lasted more than a few fights before leaving with whatever teeth they had left. You kept going until one of my best fighters had his little incident.¡±


    ¡°Little incident?¡± Razia asked, tilting her head up at Quentin.


    ¡°Mad Mank,¡± Quentin replied. ¡°Got a bit too keyed up after one fight and started a brawl that ended up with over a dozen dead and half the fighters that day arrested. Including me.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Q here had a chance to get out of trouble by ratting out my man. He didn¡¯t. I answered that good turn with one of my own and I never forgot it. That''s why I was surprised when he popped up again just a couple months ago.¡± His smile seemed more genuine now. ¡°I don¡¯t get surprised often. The point is, I¡¯m something of a sentimental man. Old faces and loyal men inspire weakness in me. Enough weakness to accept the destruction of my business and what was an unintentional but nevertheless very real insult and move on.


    ¡°After our shared history, I offered my hand out in friendship and you rejected it. Before Piro¡¯s men stormed your whorehouse, you were too good for me. Now that you¡¯re in trouble you come to me with your tails behind your legs asking for what you rejected? Why should I help now?¡±


    This was normally the part where Razia would work her magic, go too far, and Quentin would do his best to reel her in a little. This time, Quentin nudged Razia before she began speaking and skipped to the end. ¡°Razia could probably think of half a dozen good reasons for it, but honestly? I think the most important thing is that we¡¯re sorry. We made a terrible mistake.¡±


    Mr. Cicero was as still as a statue. Right when Quentin started to sweat, Cicero gave a tiny nod. Emboldened, Quentin continued. ¡°It was never about being too good for you. It was wanting to start something on our own and seeing how far we could take it. Turns out, Orchrisus is a bit dangerous for those without connections. We¡¯re not asking you to put men at the Garden to look after us. We want the same thing as you: keeping Piro out of your half of the city.¡±


    This time, Razia did speak up, leaning further over the railing to get his attention. ¡°Let¡¯s be real here Mr. Cicero. You hate Piro, possibly more than I do. You may even hate Piro more than he hates me. Do you really want to deal with him?¡±


    ¡°Honestly?¡± Mr. Cicero snorted. ¡°No. He¡¯s an obnoxious bastard with all the charm of a burning building. He¡¯s reckless, immature, arrogant, and greedy.¡± Right when Razia beamed, Mr. Cicero added, ¡°You two are honestly not too dissimilar. Alright. Let¡¯s say I agree to help you instead of him. Would you be willing to become one of my tributaries?¡±


    Razia looked up at Quentin. This was on him, and it was something they discussed as a possibility. Joining Mr. Cicero wasn¡¯t just handing him money once a week. It meant being a part of his network. It meant being obligated to him in ways that made Quentin uncomfortable. He understood why Razia made the deal behind his back, and deception aside it was one he found acceptable. Circumstances changed. ¡°Yes,¡± said Quentin. ¡°If it means the safety of my girls, then yes.¡±


    Mr. Cicero nodded, looking out at the big pit once more. The ring was surrounded now, the champion standing in the middle and flexing for people. He turned in place, letting out a roar that Quentin supposed was meant to sound tough but really just came out as goofy. ¡°That¡¯s my current best brawler,¡± said Mr. Cicero. ¡°Do you think you could beat him?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± His response came out a little too fast. Mr. Cicero arched a brow at him. He shrugged and said, ¡°I¡¯m not good at much, but I¡¯m good at this.¡±


    Once more he nodded, a dark smile creeping across his face as an idea struck him. ¡°Maybe you can have a second chance, if you¡¯re willing to indulge me in a moment of sentimentality.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± said Razia. ¡°What do you want us to do?¡±


    ¡°Not you,¡± he said, ¡°him. I want Mr. Q to fight my best man, right here and now.¡±


    Out of all the things he could¡¯ve requested, this one was honestly not bad. Quentin never thought he¡¯d fight in the pits again, and while the memories of his time there weren¡¯t especially positive, he wouldn¡¯t have ended up where he was without them. ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°You just want me to fight him? And if I win, you¡¯ll let us join up and not hand Razia over?¡±


    The expression on Mr. Cicero¡¯s face turned positively gleeful. ¡°No Mr. Q. For old time¡¯s sake, I want you to fight my best man and lose.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Razia made a face.


    ¡°Mr. Q was one of the scrappiest losers we had here. What were you, 15? 16? Up against grown men, seasoned fighters and killers. He has one of the worst win-loss ratios in memory.¡± Mr. Cicero pushed away from the railing and retrieved his drink. He took a sip, looking pleased with himself. ¡°That was a while ago, but I think we can get some good bets going. If we work the crowd just right, maybe even enough to cover what Piro would¡¯ve paid me.


    ¡°Yes, I think I like this idea. If you want protection, you¡¯re going to not only lose to Lugo for me, you¡¯ll make it to round three before you take a fall. You¡¯ll put on a good show.¡±


    Quentin and Razia looked at each other. She had the same guilty, sad look that she¡¯d had all day. The one that made his will turn to jelly and reason go out the door. If Mr. Cicero wanted to take him to take a beating before he¡¯d forgive them and they could at least stabilize their position before figuring out a solution to Piro, was that really so bad? It wasn¡¯t like Quentin hadn¡¯t taken his share of beatings in the past.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±

 Chapter 75: Bare Knuckle Diplomacy

    Chapter 75: Bare Knuckle Diplomacy


    It turned out, right here and now wasn¡¯t actually right now. The fight was half an hour later to account for the need for an announcement and for Cicero¡¯s men to hype up the fight. To Razia¡¯s amusement, a great deal of it was centered around Quentin¡¯s past as a punching bag and how much he was sure to lose. By the time they were almost ready to go, the odds were staggeringly in favor of the champ. People didn¡¯t bet on whether or not Quentin would lose so much as when. Smart money was a knockout in round three.


    So it was agreed that Quentin would put up a fight, he¡¯d take his punches and make it believable, and then take a fall in order to get some appeasement money and offer a show of humility and submission before the king of the underworld. It all sounded so logical and straightforward that Razia couldn¡¯t trust it. The plan didn¡¯t add up, but there was no way of telling for sure one way or the other. There was only trusting her gut and Razia wasn¡¯t so sure about that anymore. Nevertheless, she placed a bet of her own.


    ¡°You¡¯re really going for that?¡± asked Quentin, wrinkling his nose as the Mediant took her money and quickly jotted down the information of the bet and the odds on a piece of paper with the Mediant¡¯s signature at the bottom. ¡°That¡¯s not the plan.¡±


    All Razia could do was shrug and hope she was right about her feeling. ¡°I¡¯ll never bet against you,¡± she said as they made their way downstairs once more. All of the other fights were placed on hold and all of the Kennel¡¯s attention and hype were dedicated to the upcoming sham. Heads turned their way as they passed, with more than a few of the people jeering and booing at Quentin who kept his head held high and ignored them.


    ¡°I appreciate it, but you¡¯re just throwing away shards. Don¡¯t do this because you¡¯re feeling guilty, Razia. I¡¯ll be okay.¡± They arrived at the outside of the pit. Across the gap was the champion Lugo, surrounded by fans and drinking from a large bottle. ¡°He¡¯s not so big. And it¡¯s not like it¡¯ll take me long to heal whatever hurt he puts on me.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± she said, sighing, ¡°I¡¯m not used to feeling guilt and actually wanting to do something about it.¡±


    Quentin looked over at Lugo, who let out a window rattling belch and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned at Quentin and winked at him. ¡°How about this,¡± said Quentin, turning back to Razia with a crooked smile. ¡°If you want to make up for the savage beating I¡¯m about to take you could always¡­nurse me back to health later.¡±


    Razia¡¯s face split into a delighted grin. ¡°Why Mr. Q, that¡¯s awfully forward of you! I¡¯m not sure what kind of woman you think I am but¡­¡± she couldn¡¯t finish and started giggling. Quentin joined her and soon they had people staring at the scene. ¡°Look at you,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°The dam burst, huh?¡±


    His face reddened, and he shrugged. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Mr. Cicero stood up on his platform and motioned for silence. Lugo crouched down and dropped into the pit. ¡°After the match, then,¡± he said.


    ¡°Even if you have to lose, make that bastard remember you forever,¡± Razia said, tugging at his tunic so she could kiss his cheek for good luck.


    Quentin smiled at her and dropped down as well. The crowds parted for Razia as she made her way up to join Mr. Cicero for a better view and for what Razia suspected would be an important conversation that would determine things going forward. She loved how straightforward Quentin was, but that wasn¡¯t how the rest of them did things. Mr. Cicero wouldn¡¯t be satisfied to just watch the show in peace and enjoy their show of submission. Razia leaned against the railing by the crime lord as he cleared his throat to speak.


    ¡°Friends, followers, and fighting fanatics,¡± he began, a bit of fire entering his voice. ¡°Welcome to a very special match between the very best and the very worst! Here we have Lugo Skullcrusher, champion of the pits and an unstoppable behemoth!¡± The crowd shrieked with joy as Lugo himself pulled his shirt off and flexed, showing a heavy frame packed with both muscle and fat.


    ¡°Lugo here hasn¡¯t lost a match in months, and today his strength and fury will be tested against a very interesting opponent. Mr Q here used to fight in these very pits. With nearly a hundred losses to his name and only three victories, there are few people who can take a beating and walk away like he can. Let¡¯s see how long he can last, huh?¡± There was some laughter, but most of their attention was on the two fighters, staring each other down as they stretched out for the fight.


    ¡°Gentleman, on the count of three. One.¡± Cicero glanced sideways at Razia, smirking at her. ¡°Two.¡± The fighters got into position, with Lugo looming menacingly over Quentin who dropped into a defensive stance. ¡°FIGHT!¡±


    Lugo rushed at Quentin immediately, throwing a heavy punch that would¡¯ve floored Quentin if he didn¡¯t duck out of the way and lash out with a counter to Lugo¡¯s jaw. The big man took a step back, eyes widening in surprise. Quentin followed through immediately, letting out a flurry of quick blows to the man¡¯s ribs. Lugo jerked backwards, twisting and swinging, but Quentin danced out of the way.


    ¡°Interesting way to begin a loss,¡± Cicero said, casually leaning over the railing.


    ¡°You said to put on a show,¡± said Razia, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°And we figured if Quentin got in some good blows early, maybe it would tire the big guy out before he could hurt him too much.¡± Despite the fact that Quentin was a large man, Lugo had size and reach on him and Quentin couldn¡¯t dodge forever. Quentin was surprisingly graceful for his size, bouncing from foot to foot and staying on the move, forcing Lugo to keep up with him. ¡°Assuming you just want the loss and don¡¯t care how badly he¡¯s hurt.¡±


    ¡°You assume correctly, Ms. Rashid,¡± Cicero chuckled. ¡°He¡¯s very loyal, to take yet another beating for you. You¡¯ve got yourself a good right hand this time.¡± Lugo¡¯s next punch didn¡¯t miss and Quentin took it on the chin, reeling sideways but catching himself before he fell. He kept his fists up and circled, looking wary now.


    ¡°He¡¯s in charge, Mr. Cicero. We¡¯re partners, but I¡¯ll be deferring to him.¡±


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t insult my intelligence. We both know what it takes to survive in our world, and strength isn¡¯t enough. It comes down to people like us, the schemers and the dreamers. I¡¯m sure Mr. Q makes for an amazing figurehead, but we both know who¡¯s really directing the action and coming up with the ideas. There¡¯s no need to pretend with me.¡±


    Razia¡¯s cheeks heated up. Anger was better than guilt, but anger was dangerous for her. Anger was what led her to making her dumbest, pettiest decisions. She needed to be better about it. So she said nothing as Quentin got in another couple of good hits to Lugo¡¯s ribs before the bigger man reared back and drove his fist into Quentin¡¯s face, sending him sprawling backwards. Quentin flipped over on his hands and knees, panting as the crowd started counting. On three, he was back up, though his movements were slower.


    Then a bell rang and they both retreated to opposite ends of the pit. Someone handed Quentin some water, which he gratefully swished and spit. The area around his eye was already swollen and was going to bruise and blacken before too long. Other than that he looked mostly okay. He met Razia¡¯s gaze and winked at her. She smiled back and waved to him, trying to will away the sinking feeling in her stomach.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I don¡¯t quite get,¡± she said to Mr. Cicero as the fighters took their break. ¡°Your bit about sentimentality. I¡¯m not buying it.¡±


    Cicero laughed, the sudden sound startling coming from the normally cool man. ¡°It¡¯s true, though I may have been playing it up just a bit.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why act hurt and offended? So I --¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia interrupted. ¡°Why is all your focus on Quentin? Sure, you teased me about how easy it would be to hand me over, but all of your focus has been on getting Quentin to cooperate. You want something else from him.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± said Cicero. ¡°I think Quentin has a lot of potential. The other night, when Piro made a move for you, your man took on four armed men and walked away with just a few scratches. He¡¯s loyal, can take a beating, and I have things he wants and needs. And frankly?¡± He turned away from the fight. His eyes glittered dangerously.


    ¡°If you two want my ongoing help, then I might have to borrow Quentin and put him to work every now and then. He¡¯ll be a valuable asset, if you two can learn to behave.¡±


    The bell rang again and the fighters got back into position. Quentin moved forward and practically ran face-first into the champion¡¯s fist. One punch turned into two and then four as Lugo struck again and again, faster, softer blows this time. The big brute wasn¡¯t capable of speed, but he seemed to realize glancing blows were better than missing. Quentin was forced backward until his back hit the edge of the pit.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Razia winced as another heavy blow came and Quentin just took it, doubling over as the bigger man¡¯s fist sank into his stomach. She didn¡¯t like this. Any of this. ¡°That¡¯s more than we agreed on.¡±


    Mr. Cicero¡¯s smile became predatory. ¡°My help comes with a lot of strings attached, and you¡¯re hardly in a position to be choosy. I¡¯m going to be making demands of you both soon. They¡¯ll be for your own good.¡±


    Razia¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°What exactly do you mean?¡± she demanded as her heart thudded and picked up the pace.


    His entire body language changed. No longer was there the quiet menace hidden underneath a tightly controlled surface. It was all on his face now, the pure glee of a conqueror about to claim his next victory. ¡°I seem to recall the two of you wanting to be seen as good friends of mine. Wasn¡¯t that what you requested? That we play everything off as a misunderstanding and you got my blessing? Well Ms. Rashid, if you want to project the image of respected friends then you¡¯ll need to prove it to others.


    ¡°If you want my protection and the protection from all the best and brightest of North Orchrisus, you¡¯re going to need to make it clear to everyone who you are and what you stand for. Being one of my subjects means living and operating under my purview, and that means being a part of my community. You will not be getting any manpower from me, nor will you get any special attention. You want to shield yourselves with a lie? It¡¯ll be on you to convince everyone of that lie and use it to protect yourselves. With my blessing that you so badly wanted.¡±


    Quentin remained pinned on the wall, holding his arms up in front of his face, twisting and weaving away from some blows while blocking the rest as the relentless assault continued. The next blow broke his guard and slammed into his nose. The audience let out a collective gasp as Quentin swayed and collapsed against the wall, clinging to it to keep him from collapsing.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be my tributaries for real,¡± Mr. Cicero continued, turning back towards the fight. ¡°You¡¯ll have all the privileges and responsibilities that entails. That means getting called on to provide your services for parties and get-togethers, at your own cost. You¡¯ll get your high end whorehouse, and the rest of my people will benefit from the connection. Welcome to the family, Ms. Rashid.¡±


    The second Quentin raised back up, Lugo reared back and slugged him. Quentin spun in place and dropped to the ground. Everyone screamed loudly as Lugo raised his fists in the air and circled his fallen opponent. Quentin¡¯s hands pushed at the ground, trying to force himself to his feet. He faltered, falling back on his knees as the count went on. ¡°Five! Six! Seven!¡± Quentin stood, swaying in place. He raised his fists just as the bell rang and the round ended.


    The two fighters retreated to their sides. Quentin took another quick sip and gratefully wiped some of the blood off his face with a mostly clean towel. Clutching the sides of the pit to keep himself standing he looked up at Razia again, gaze sliding over her until he made eye contact with Mr. Cicero, who nodded and turned to Razia. ¡°Any complaints?¡± he asked.


    There were plenty of things she could complain about, but his demands weren¡¯t entirely unexpected. Quentin wouldn¡¯t be happy about being dragged in deeper and deeper, but it was a possibility they¡¯d discussed. It would have to work for now. Safety and survival were their first priority, everything else was secondary. Razia shook her head. ¡°No complaints,¡± she said. ¡°You said it. We¡¯re not in a position to bargain.¡±


    Cicero nodded to her and then raised his hands. The noise faded until it was silent save for breathing and the occasional cough. ¡°This has been an interesting, exciting match so far,¡± he said. ¡°But I think it needs to get more interesting. Mr. Q? I changed my mind about our deal. You don¡¯t have to just survive this fight. If you want my help, you¡¯ll turn it around and win.¡±


    The audience didn¡¯t know what to make of the announcement, but the fighters did. Lugo burst out laughing and leaned back against the wall, arms spread out across the lip. Quentin stared up at Mr. Cicero with thinly veiled frustration.


    Razia, however, wasn¡¯t surprised. In fact, after a long, stressful couple of days, she felt like her old clever self again. ¡°Does that mean Quentin has permission to go all out?¡± she asked.


    Mr. Cicero inclined his head. ¡°I¡¯d expect nothing less.¡±


    Smiling, Razia called out to Quentin, ¡°Stop holding back. Take a breath and then fuck him up!¡±


    Quentin looked at her puzzled, then he understood. That only made him more concerned, but Razia maintained eye contact, grinning at him. Eventually Quentin just shrugged and grinned back. He closed his eyes and grimaced. It was hard to see from this far away, but some of the swelling around his face lightened.


    The audience didn¡¯t know what to make of it, but Mr. Cicero did. ¡°Huh,¡± he said. ¡°Interesting. Let¡¯s see how this plays out then.¡±


    Razia took a deep breath and centered herself. It was an uncomfortable truth that she fucked up. A lot. The majority of her problems were self-inflicted and she knew it, but she was who she was, and Razia liked herself. It was times like these she was reminded just why she had such high self esteem. Pride was very much one of her biggest flaws, but also her greatest strength. Quentin had to fake his confidence. Razia had it in spades. The bell rang, and the two fighters got into position.


    ¡°Mr. Cicero,¡± Razia began in a pleasant, unconcerned voice. ¡°Your terms are reasonable and fair.¡± In the pit, the fighters circled each other slowly. ¡°But we have terms of our own that aren¡¯t negotiable. Firstly, Quentin will not murder anyone for you. If you want his services, he¡¯ll act for you and fight for you if needed, but he will not be a killer on call for you or for anyone else ever again.¡±


    Quentin feinted, baiting out another heavy blow from Lugo he sidestepped and swung a vicious hook into the bigger man¡¯s ear. He faltered and Quentin hit the other ear, forcing him back. The crowd booed and hissed as their champion reeled. The challenger didn¡¯t let up, advancing and peppering Lugo¡¯s ribs with fast, sharp punches that kept him off balance.


    ¡°We¡¯re happy to supply entertainment for parties at cost. However, we¡¯ll only bring people who want to come serve gangsters and mercenaries. If any of them say no, we¡¯re not forcing them. Likewise, no whore under us will ever have to serve a person who makes them uncomfortable or feel unsafe, and we don¡¯t care who that pisses off. Our priority is our people, and they will not be disrespected or mistreated. If we¡¯re to be friends,¡± she said the word with a sardonic flutter of her eyelashes, ¡°then that friendship will be based on mutual understanding and respect.¡±


    Below them, the fight turned. With Quentin on the offensive, Lugo found himself unable to get in a good blow. The bigger man stumbled back further, twisting away from the blows. He may have been able to hit harder but Quentin could hit first, and he wasn¡¯t letting up. The moment Lugo¡¯s back hit the wall, Quentin dropped and drove his fist into his gut. The champion folded in half.


    Quentin grabbed him by the beard and hammered his fist down against his jaw. The crowd screamed foul, but no one stopped him. It didn¡¯t end until one final heavy blow made Lugo convulse then go limp and fall to the ground. Quentin straightened up, heaving and panting for air. He looked up and around, smiling at the dead silence that followed. Both he and Razia looked to Mr. Cicero.


    Razia wore a big smile on her face, knowing it was risky. All of it boiled down to this one moment of judgment from a powerful, prideful man. Her heart soared as he exploded into applause, which stirred the crowd into clapping as well, slowly at first and then rising into a pleased cacophony. ¡°Excellent. Excellent!¡± Mr. Cicero called out. ¡°Mr. Q is our winner, in round three with a knockout.¡±


    That was something the audience couldn¡¯t pretend to be pleased about, save for the handful of people who went for the longshot. Turning to Razia he said, ¡°Your terms are acceptable. If the pride and dignity of your whores offend some of my people, it¡¯ll be on you to deal with any problems that arise from it. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Perfectly,¡± said Razia, turning and throwing herself into Quentin¡¯s arms as he climbed the steps back up. He grunted as she collided with a bruised and battered body but held her there. They parted and she looked up at him. He¡¯d looked worse in the past, but it was still pretty rough. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Tired. Sore. Ravenous.¡± Quentin half smiled and looked past her to Mr. Cicero. ¡°Are you satisfied, Mr. Cicero?¡±


    Mr. Cicero inclined his head. ¡°I am. You performed well, surprised me, and made me some money today. You are now one of my tributaries and are under my banner.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s shoulders slumped in relief. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath. When he relaxed, he was smiling as well. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who made money, I think. Forget what I said Razia, you were right.¡±


    ¡°Oh how I love to hear those words,¡± she sighed.


    Cicero paused. ¡°You bet he would win?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing, Mr. Cicero. And more importantly, I understood what you were doing. You said you wanted it over in the third round, so I took that to heart. Sorry you¡¯ll have to split your winnings with me, but hey. Looks like I have enough to pay off Samantha¡¯s and my debts, Quentin. With plenty left over.¡±


    Whatever fear she had at Mr. Cicero¡¯s reaction was dispelled by the genuine smile on his face. While he was mostly back to his restrained, neutral mask, he seemed pleased. ¡°Well done, then. We need a sitdown with Piro and his partner to discuss our options. I¡¯ll arrange the meeting and get back to you. In the meantime, I¡¯ll send a man over with details you¡¯ll need for the party. Until next time Ms. Rashid, Mr. Q.¡± He bowed his head respectfully and left them on his platform.


    ¡°Party?¡± Quentin asked.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°While you were fighting he put some extra conditions on the deal, and so did I. And when we get home, I¡¯ll tell you about all of them. You trust me, right?¡±


    He looked at her, then snorted. ¡°I¡¯m choosing to, for now. Disappoint me again and it¡¯s over. For now? I trust you.¡±


    Her heart swelled. Sure there had been plenty of missteps, but they were on the same page now, they had a mutual enemy and they had plenty of work ahead of them. But for now, all was well and things were looking up. ¡°C¡¯mon Mr. Q. you look like you¡¯re in need of some nursing.¡± After a quick stop for a bulging sack of shards, they walked home arm in arm.

 Chapter 76: Raise Your Cups

    Chapter 76: Raise Your Cups


    In hindsight, Quentin should¡¯ve expected the wake for Demetrius Buros to be big. At fifty eight years old, Demetrius had spent forty-one years at the Colosseum before dying in battle. At the very least Quentin expected the current gladiators to come and pay their respects, and maybe some of the recently retired men and women who had fond memories of the head trainer. But Demetrius was more than just the curmudgeonly trainer: he was a Colosseum legend.


    They had to rent out the entire tavern to fit everyone who came to Demetrius¡¯ favorite place to drink, and still some people had to sit at the tables outside rotating in and out to pay their final respects. When Quentin arrived the place was lively and people were laughing and drinking. He recognized the people outside, if not by name, and most of them knew him well enough. Their eyes met his as he passed and they raised a drink to him while Quentin gave a polite nod in return.


    Inside was a pleasant dull roar of people laughing and shouting. At first, Quentin stood in the entrance, scanning the room for anyone familiar. One table in the center of the tavern was turned sideways and pressed up against the wall. There sat a portrait of Demetrius, a gift for his fiftieth birthday. His hair and beard were more groomed than normal, and he had a peaceful smile Quentin had never seen in his life. Two more years and they would¡¯ve given him another. In front of the portrait was the urn where his ashes rested.


    Pain bubbled up from his stomach, sudden and overwhelming. Quentin held his breath as it washed over him, making his eyes sting and his chest hitch. The loss of his best friend had been¡­Easy wasn¡¯t the right word. There was nothing easy about a vibrant life snuffed out, nor all the lives torn apart in the wake of that loss. Quentin knew the other side of that well, but feeling it himself was a new, unpleasant experience.


    It had been easy to grieve for Maria, and for his job, back when that mattered to him. Although he¡¯d only known the woman a short while, she was kind and good and soft. When he failed to save her, he had to join in the pain of all the other girls and her daughter. It was effortless to let it out and be hurt, and then move on. Now, there was pain, but it stuck there in his chest like some wine he swallowed wrong. It ached and that ache spread and spread and seemed to have no end. It lingered there, never getting any better or any worse.


    Being here at the wake, now, with all the people around there reminded him painfully of the worst part: Demetrius didn¡¯t need to die. It was Razia¡¯s fault for her past and it was Quentin¡¯s fault for asking him there to look out for the girls. All the people there to mourn him and celebrate his life knew how he died, but did they know why? What would they say to him if they knew? Chances were it would be worse than an entire career of being ignored and snubbed.


    ¡°Hey, you made it,¡± Jonas spotted him from one of the tables and came up. His left arm was still in a sling, wrapped up tight while the nasty cut healed. His eyes were red and puffy, but he looked to be in good spirits overall. ¡°I was beginning to wonder. I know you didn¡¯t go out drinking with the guys much, but he would¡¯ve wanted you here.¡±


    It was amazing how tight his throat could get. Quentin shook his head, not trusting himself to speak at first. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have missed this for anything. He¡­He deserves better than he got.¡±


    Jonas nodded, smiling sadly. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come over here? There¡¯s a spot over at my table that¡¯s free. I won¡¯t take no for an answer.¡± The teen put his arm around Quentin¡¯s shoulders and all but dragged him past Demetrius¡¯ portrait over to one of the tables with some of the other rising stars in the Colosseum. Half of them were young enough that Quentin didn¡¯t know them, but there was one harsh looking woman about his age (Scarlet, maybe?) and two men who were closer to Demetrius¡¯ (Brock and John, he thought).


    ¡°Hey, look who I found,¡± he announced to the table, releasing Quentin and sitting down. He pushed Quentin¡¯s chair out with his foot, beaming.


    The rest of the table looked at him, and for the life of him Quentin couldn¡¯t figure out what they were thinking or whether or not they wanted him there at all. But Jonas wanted him there, and Jonas was more or less a friend. Quentin sat down and grabbed the bottle on the table and poured himself a drink. He raised it up, looking around. One by one the others raised their cups, waiting for the toast.


    ¡°To Demetrius Buros,¡± Quentin said quietly. ¡°A giant of a man, famous for his humility, his compassion, and temperance.¡±


    Silence.


    Beside him, Jonas snickered. The woman across from Quentin bit her lip, but the burly man next to her burst out laughing. Then the tension was broken and the rest of them added to the toast.


    ¡°To the most patient of us,¡± Scarlet said, smirking.


    ¡°To the wisest of us,¡± said John.


    ¡°To the kindest!¡± Brock barked.


    ¡°To the warmest!¡±


    ¡°To the most eloquent!¡±


    ¡°To the longest lasting bastard in the whole Colosseum.¡±


    Jonas raised his cups, eyes glistening. ¡°To the man who took in orphans and troubled teens and turned them into disciplined warriors.¡± The laughter died down, but the mood remained high.


    ¡°To Demetrius,¡± Quentin repeated, ¡°May the Darkstar recruit his sadistic ass in helping the wicked atone for their sins.¡± Together they drank away the tension, the toast cracking some of Quentin¡¯s anxiety. He settled back in his chair, sighing. Quentin let himself relax, shrugging off his cloak. All eyes were on him.


    ¡°The hell happened to you?¡± Brock grunted. ¡°Have a little fight in the Turtle¡¯s honor?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Quentin said, looking away. He was still busted up from fighting in the pits. He knew now he could speed up the healing, make it happen in just hours or just minutes maybe, but he wasn¡¯t sure he trusted it. And even if he did trust it, his gift hurt like a motherfucker to use. It was like all the cumulative pain of healing happened all at once in one agonizing, full body flare. And it seemed to leave him drained and ravenous afterwards. ¡°You should see the other guy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know who you are, to be honest,¡± One of the two other younger gladiators said. He was probably close to Jonas¡¯ age, but much bigger and he looked like he was still growing. ¡°You weren¡¯t a gladiator, were you? I watched the fights for years and never saw you.¡±


    Jonas and the older three gladiators exchanged a look. Back when he was working, his identity was easy enough to keep secret through intimidation. No longer being a part of the Colosseum made that trickier. ¡°Quentin here was Demetrius¡¯ right hand man for years,¡± Jonas said, sounding mostly convincing. ¡°Just this last year he gave me private lessons. Learned a lot from him in that time.¡± Jonas gave him a silent toast, which Quentin returned.


    ¡°Like what?¡± One of the other two young ones said suspiciously. ¡°How to cheat death and have to avoid the sun?¡± He burst out laughing and his friends joined him. No one else did.


    ¡°You best watch yourself, son,¡± John drawled over his drink. ¡°First time I saw Quintius fight it was against a bunch of punks like you. It took four of us to drag him off of them and then he started fighting us until we all jumped on him to stop. I nearly got a tooth knocked out for my troubles. That sumbitch was loose for a month.¡±


    Heat flooded Quentin¡¯s face. He couldn¡¯t say he knew John well, but he could only be referring to the incident that got him in the training yard to begin with. ¡°Should¡¯ve let me at them. They had it coming.¡±


    That earned a laugh from John and Brock. Scarlet and Jonas smiled, but the two teenagers just stared at him as if they couldn¡¯t believe it. Whatever, their opinions of him weren¡¯t his problem. After today he¡¯d probably never see them again. Not like he was going to be spending any more time at the Colosseum after this. Quentin just shrugged and poured himself and Jonas some more wine.


    ¡°We were just trading stories about Demetrius,¡± said Jonas. ¡°You have to have some worth sharing. You knew him longer than just about anyone.¡±


    ¡°Not as long as me,¡± said Brock, looking smug. ¡°I was there for five years before your scrawny ass ended up in the infirmary. I think I retired halfway into your¡­¡± he trailed off, eyes sliding over to the young trio. He didn¡¯t need to finish the sentence. ¡°And I think there¡¯s a few of the old timers around here who are even older than the Turtle was.¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Scarlet said, elbowing Brock in the side, ¡°tell us a story, Quintius.¡±


    It was the kind of thing that ordinarily he¡¯d have trouble with. Quentin wasn¡¯t comfortable being on the spot, but over the last few days he had plenty of time to think about the man who¡¯d been in his life for half of it. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s any secret I was an angry kid,¡± he said, to a couple of chuckles. ¡°Not even working with Salim dimmed that at all. But when I switched over to training dummy, Demetrius decided he needed to set me straight.


    ¡°One of my first days there, he pulled me aside before we got started with training for the day. He had me suit up and he told me that my job was to get a clean hit on him. I¡¯m sure you can imagine how that went.¡± That got a couple of chuckles. There was a reason why he¡¯d been called the Turtle. ¡°I¡¯d attack and he¡¯d either block or deflect it and then counter attack. Each time I failed to get in a good hit, he¡¯d hit me with a stick. Again and again until I saw red and just dove at him. He threw me on the ground and pinned me until I thrashed. Then he lectured me.


    ¡°He said, ¡®Hate me all you want you son of a bitch, you¡¯re never gonna hit me if all you do is come out swinging. You want to be a good fighter? You¡¯re strong, you¡¯re healthy, and you got fire. Use your fucking head before you go for it and you might even win a fight.¡¯¡± Quentin paused for a drink, remembering that day well. Demetrius had been kind enough to give him that lesson in private, far from the eyes of his peers who would¡¯ve eviscerated him afterward.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°And then he helped me up and told me he was going to hit me, and I had to defend. I ended up very bruised that day, but by the end I was able to hit him a bit and lasted longer than thirty seconds when sparring. He worked with me every day after that, spending an hour with me before we¡¯d break for lunch, and then he¡¯d have me show what I learned against the gladiators he was training. He used to say it was just using me to make his job easier, but he paid me way more attention than he did anyone else.


    ¡°He was¡­He was a good friend,¡± Quentin said, that burning, choking feeling rising again. He controlled his breathing, keeping it as even as possible. He wouldn¡¯t let himself break in front of others. ¡°There¡¯ll never be another like him in my life.¡± He raised his cup again, and people joined him. He downed it, letting the light burn of the alcohol bring tears to his eyes. He wiped them away with the heel of his hand while the others kindly pretended not to notice.


    Jonas cleared his throat and then spoke. ¡°He liked to talk about the different people he trained over the years. His favorites. He said that you were his boy. And¡­¡± Jonas¡¯ handsome face screwed up as he gathered the courage to say what he was thinking, ¡°that I had the potential to be just like you. But less stupid. His words.¡±


    Quentin burst out laughing. ¡°Yeah, that sounds like him. You keep at it, you¡¯ll be better than I ever was.¡±


    ¡°How good could you have been?¡± One of the two snot nosed brats said to him. ¡°You were just a trainer right? Jonas is going to be way more famous than you¡¯ll ever be.¡±


    John put his hand on the back of the teen¡¯s neck and squeezed. ¡°There¡¯s a time and a place,¡± he growled. ¡°Learn them.¡± He shoved the kid off his chair and to the ground. The rest of the table laughed at him.


    Just as Quentin was about to let himself relax, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Jonas stared past him with a disgusted grimace. He was about to ask what was going on when a loud, boisterous voice cut through all conversations in the tavern.


    ¡°Quentin Quintius, you beautiful son of a bitch, I was wondering if we¡¯d see you here!¡±


    Oh. Oh gods no. Not here, not today. Sighing, Quentin stood and turned to see Cervenka there with a shit eating grin. He spread his arms as if he was going to run up and hug him. He stared the executioner down with every ounce of contempt and hatred he could bring forth. It seemed to do the trick; Cervenka stopped just shy of him.


    ¡°Is it true that Demetrius is dead because of you?¡± Cervenka called out cheerfully. The last vestiges of conversation died down as all eyes turned to the two of them. His words were like a punch to the gut. If things had gone according to plan, he would¡¯ve been out of there long before anyone could ask many questions about how Demetrius died or why. Leave it to Cervenka to just say it. Now there were dozens of grieving warriors who would want answers.


    Worst of all, Quentin couldn¡¯t bring himself to lie or make excuses. Demetrius deserved better than that. ¡°Yes,¡± he said, raising his voice. ¡°It¡¯s true. Demetrius died helping protect my business while I did a favor for him.¡±


    ¡°And what favor could you possibly have been doing for him that warranted him dying for you?¡± Cervenka smirked, eyes all wide eyed innocence. Not for the first time Quentin was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and take Cervenka down and see how much damage he could inflict before the others inevitably dragged him off. ¡°Where were you that night? How do we know you didn¡¯t kill him? Everyone knows what your kind is capable of.¡±


    ¡°Because I was there,¡± Jonas snapped, jumping to his feet. He stood between Quentin and Cervenka, looking up into Cervenka¡¯s smug face with an expression that looked how Quentin felt. ¡°Demetrius took a wound defending the Garden and succumbed to it. Anyone who says anything else is a liar and not welcome here.¡±


    ¡°The Garden?¡± Cerenka pretended to be confused before his face lit up with recognition. ¡°Right, right. That¡¯s your WHOREHOUSE, right Quintius? Demetrius died for your whores?¡±


    Whispers came from every direction. Gladiators of all ages got up from their tables and wandered closer until there was a very clear desire to hear what Quentin had to say about the subject. Some of them had inscrutable expressions, others were sad or angry. At him, Cervenka, or the situation, Quentin couldn¡¯t say. He took a deep breath, shackling that anger. Managing his temper was Demetrius¡¯ greatest gift to him, and there was no better time to embrace that gift.


    ¡°Shut the fuck up, Cervenka!¡± Jonas growled, inches away from his face.


    ¡°Or what? You gonna make me, with one hand tied behind your back?¡±


    Quentin pulled Jonas away before he could do anything. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, Cervenka,¡± he said loud enough to be heard. Speaking in front of A large group wasn¡¯t comfortable, but it was becoming a habit of his. ¡°Demetrius asked me to help him with something. In exchange, he and Jonas would watch out for my whorehouse. That night, a gang from the southside attacked my business, wounding Jonas and Demetrius.


    ¡°He ran after them. You all know how stubborn the bastard was. He said he was going to look out for my girls, and he took that seriously.¡± Quentin couldn¡¯t stop the tear from trailing down his face. And then the other. He kept his voice strong, unable to stop now that he started. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for him, my partner and lover would be dead now. He¡­He decided to chase after them instead of getting treatment. That¡¯s a debt I could never pay back, not even if he was still alive.¡±


    Cervenka looked pleased with himself, arms crossed over his chest as silence hung heavy in the air. Then came the flood of questions.


    ¡°Which gang?¡±


    ¡°Why did they attack you guys?¡±


    ¡°Did you get any of them?¡±


    ¡°That true, Jonas?¡±


    The ring of people pressed in closer. Quentin wiped at his eyes. He motioned for quiet. Maybe it was foolish to open up like this in front of people who barely tolerated him for the last fourteen years of his life. Out of them, only Jonas and Demetrius had been a real friend to him. The others put up with him during training and avoided him when the mask was on. In the end, he couldn¡¯t be anything less than honest. He took a deep breath.


    ¡°My lover has a history with the southside gangs,¡± he said. ¡°The Warlords. Seven of them came after her while I was gone. Demetrius killed one, and I killed another three. Two of them were arrested by the watch and another two got away.¡±


    ¡°Are they going to come back for her?¡± Bruce spoke up, pushing past the crowd. Quentin nodded at him gratefully.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re working on making sure this doesn¡¯t happen again, but we expect the Warlords to attack again.¡±


    There was a murmur through the crowd. ¡°Is that why Demetrius was asking about guards?¡± A lean woman with silver in her hair asked. She was leaning up against a wall, the picture of lazy, alert grace. ¡°Like a week ago he came and asked if I was up for some guard work.¡±


    ¡°He approached me too,¡± another man said. ¡°Said it was easy pay for easy work.¡±


    Cervenka snorted loudly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like easy work afterall, does it?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t Quentin who punched Cervenka, or even Jonas. A short man more known for chariot racing than fighting jabbed the executioner in the kidneys. ¡°Shut the FUCK up, Cervenka!¡± he growled. The bastard let out a surprised yelp and then another person punched him across the face. Soon everyone near him rushed to get a good blow in. Within seconds he was curled up into a ball as blows rained down on him. When they were satisfied people grabbed a limb each and dragged him out of the tavern. After, it was like he hadn¡¯t said anything at all.


    ¡°How much are you paying for guard work?¡± Bruce asked. He flashed a smile at him. ¡°I could always use some extra shards on nights I don¡¯t fight.¡±


    Quentin was surprised to hear the murmur of agreement in the background. The crowd pressed in tighter and the noise came back as people began talking all at once. He had to raise his hand for quiet again. ¡°Three castura a night for standing around and looking menacing. Most nights, you won¡¯t have to do anything at all.¡±


    ¡°If the Warlords come back,¡± Pete piped up, ¡°would we have free reign to rip them apart?¡± He wasn¡¯t alone in his sentiment. Another surge of noise told Quentin it was a very popular idea.


    ¡°We¡¯re working on trying to keep the peace,¡± said Quentin, ¡°but if any of them show up on our doorsteps without a flag of peace their lives are yours.¡±


    When Quentin came to the wake, it had been with the intention of showing his respects and mourning alongside the people he¡¯d once had a connection, however tenuous, with. There hadn¡¯t been any thought on his mind about his request for guards, or how the other gladiators might have a vested interest in vengeance. Now that the words were said, Quentin realized how much of a fool he was.


    ¡°Well, sign me the fuck up!¡±


    ¡°Three castura to look mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna crack so many godsdamned skulls¡­¡±


    All around him people came up close to pat him on the back and talk to him. It wasn¡¯t all of them, or even half, but enough gladiators came to Quentin to offer their services and promised their participation in any retaliatory strikes that for a moment, Quentin almost felt like Razia or Mr. Cicero. In that moment, at least, there were a number of people who would work for him or kill for him if he said so. It was a heady, frightening feeling, but not one he turned away from. By the end of the evening, nearly twenty people signed up for a shift here or there, with more promising their presence if it meant going after the Warlords directly. It was more than enough, more than Quentin had dreamed.


    It was after another several rounds of drinks and shaking hands with new and familiar faces and answering questions that Quentin finally got to pay his respects. He found himself alone in front of Demetrius¡¯ inaccurate portrait. Quentin chose to focus on the urn that housed the remains of his best friend.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Quentin swallowed hard. ¡°I guess I can¡¯t thank you enough. For everything. Without you, I¡¯d probably be dead a long time ago. Without you, Razia would definitely be dead.¡± It was weird, talking to a jar. The priests of the Darkstar taught that spirits lingered until they were released and mourned. Was Demetrius there on the other side, listening in? Maybe he had to believe in it. He¡¯d never get through this if he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°It occurred to me. I can¡¯t recall you asking anything of me. Not in fourteen years. I mean, you asked for plenty at work, but you never asked anything of me personally. You didn¡¯t want anything from anyone. You just¡­You just lived your life and encouraged everyone else to, too. You just wanted us to be happy and safe, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The tears came again, silent and slow. It was good to get them out. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do for you now, brother, but I can still promise you something. I promise you, I¡¯ll always fight using my head first. I promise I¡¯ll be less sloppy. I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m not safe, and losing you hurts, but I¡¯m happy now, Demetrius. For the first time in my life I want to live. I just¡­I promise I¡¯ll keep that up. I¡¯ll stay alive as long as I can.¡±


    He didn¡¯t know when Jonas came up beside him, but the teen didn¡¯t say anything until Quentin noticed him. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be able to fight for a while,¡± he said. ¡°Obviously. But I want to be there, at the Garden. I¡­I failed him. I failed your friends. If I hadn¡¯t gotten cocky and taken a stupid hit, maybe we could¡¯ve driven them off.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now,¡± Quentin said, awkwardly putting a hand on Jonas¡¯ good shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s done is done. There¡¯s only looking forward.¡±


    ¡°I want to be there, then,¡± Jonas insisted. ¡°Let me make up for things. Let me continue the job while I heal up at least. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±


    With as many people who said they were in, Jonas probably wasn¡¯t necessary. They could do it without him. But Quentin knew that wasn¡¯t what it was about. It was so easy to dismiss the teenager after meeting him as being some starstruck newbie who wanted his job. In that time he¡¯d basically ignored Jonas outside of training, all but disregarding him as a person. Now, Quentin could see how much Jonas needed this. Maybe Quentin needed it too.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be glad to have you join me, brother,¡± said Quentin, squeezing the teen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Together, they¡¯ll never succeed again.¡±

 Chapter 77: Fear and Faith

    Chapter 77: Fear and Faith


    Isa wasn¡¯t the type of person to stay shocked for long. Temper aside, she prided herself on being able to roll with the punches and adapt to anything Orchrisus could throw at her. Even so, learning that Quentin was one of the most prolific killers in Orchrisan history shook her. It wasn¡¯t the reveal itself. He¡¯d admitted he was a career killer multiple times, but one that high profile? Quiet, awkward Quentin was one of the most famous people in the country?


    And none of them knew. No one except her and probably Razia, who clearly didn¡¯t have a problem with it. What would they say if she told them? Would any of them care? Samantha was almost slavishly devoted to him ever since he opened his fat mouth and set in motion their exodus from the Silk Lounge. Lucy as well, in spite of him failing her and falling in harm¡¯s way twice now. Jenna at least would acknowledge that he was a scary individual, Lynne would probably shrug it off, and who gave a fuck what Kelli thought? It was likely just her who had a problem with it, which begged the question why it mattered so much to her.


    It was enough to keep Isa in her room, away from the rest of them and their petty ways of trying to self soothe after the attack. No one wanted to venture out of the Garden for fear of the Warlords being there to grab them. Most of them stuck together, talking and playing games to pass the time but going nowhere. It was enough to drive her crazy. Maybe her strategy of ruminating on it alone wasn¡¯t necessarily healthy, but at least she had her priorities straight.


    A knock on her door shook Isa from her looping thoughts. She paused in front of her vanity, brush halfway through her hair. ¡°What?¡± she bellowed.


    The door opened and Lucy peeked in. ¡°Is this a bad time?¡±


    Seeing it was just her, Isa relaxed and resumed brushing her hair. ¡°Not for you. Come in. Shut the door.¡±


    Lucy did just that and came to sit on the bed behind Isa. She said nothing at first, just sat there and watched Isa¡¯s reflection as she brushed for the thousandth time that day. It didn¡¯t take long for Isa¡¯s patience to vanish. ¡°What?¡± she demanded into the mirror.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared,¡± said Lucy, not breaking eye contact, ¡°aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ve barely come out of your room the past couple of days.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared,¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to be there for Jenna chattering nonstop for hours on end. I¡¯m in here because five more minutes of that and I¡¯ll kill myself.¡±


    Lucy crackled a smile, but didn¡¯t relent. ¡°You¡¯re scared. So am I. We¡¯re all scared. You don¡¯t have to deal with it alone. Even if you don¡¯t want to listen to Jenna and Kelli going back and forth, you don¡¯t have to shut me out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I let you come in, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    The young woman shook her head, still smiling. ¡°It¡¯s not the same. You¡¯ve been such a help and an inspiration to me. You¡¯ve made me want to be tougher. Being scared doesn¡¯t make you weak.¡±


    Isa slammed the brush down. She opened her mouth, head full of fire and ready to go off on Lucy. No words came out, only a weak croak. Frowning, Isa turned to face Lucy. ¡°Being scared makes you smart. Gods Luce, this is how many times you¡¯ve been in danger because of their mistakes?¡± she spat. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t just be afraid to be here, you should be angry!¡±


    Lucy¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°I am angry. I¡¯m scared. I¡¯m a lot of things. When they grabbed me, I had a sword up against my throat. It happened so fast I barely had time to be scared. You know why? Razia traded herself for me the second it happened. She didn¡¯t let it happen. Things haven¡¯t been perfect but I don¡¯t believe either of them would let anything happen to us on purpose. Especially not Mr. Q. I don¡¯t know what you have against him but he¡¯s only ever been good to me.¡±


    Temptation burned Isa from the inside out. Would Lucy still think that if she knew the truth? The words were on her lips, ready to be unleashed. They wanted to come out and she wanted to do as much damage as possible. Once she let it out, there was no taking it back. That made her hesitate. Would Lucy even believe her?


    ¡°Look,¡± said Lucy, sighing. ¡°The rest of us were talking about this while you were in here avoiding Jenna. What we ended up on was a question. Is your life better or worse than it was three months ago? Don¡¯t answer now, just think about it. For all of us, the answer¡¯s been yes. If it hasn¡¯t for you¡­No one will blame you for leaving after this. I¡¯d miss you, but I¡¯d come see you wherever you end up.¡± She stood up and headed for the door.


    Isa didn¡¯t try to stop her. As far as questions were, it was as loaded as they came. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn¡¯t have a good answer. Maybe it would be different if she didn¡¯t know what she knew, but the shadow of Quentin¡¯s past loomed large and she couldn¡¯t see past it. Isa was scared. If not of Quentin then of the dangers he and Razia brought into their lives. Did that win out over the shards she was making, the home she lived in rent-free, and people who could stand her most of the time?


    She let out a long, slow breath. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t tell anyone. Maybe Isa would just confront Quentin about it and demand some answers, see what would happen. Lucy may¡¯ve believed he¡¯d never hurt them, but what did she know? A secret like that, who wouldn¡¯t kill to keep it safe? If he did kill her, that would show everyone once and for all she was right. Cold comfort, but comfort just the same.


    It was a stupid idea, and the only one she had. Isa stood up and stormed out her door, heart pounding. Then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Razia was there, speaking. Isa stopped at her door, torn between just leaving and listening. Before she knew it the dusk-girl leaned up against the door, crossing her arms over her chest.


    ¡°...and really want to thank you all for your patience. I know things have been troubling, but we¡¯ve got good news,¡± Razia said, turning to look at all of them in turn. She paused upon seeing the intense, borderline angry expression on Isa¡¯s face and then continued on. ¡°For starters, we¡¯ve made a big deal. As of now, we¡¯re officially working for Mr. Cicero.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Kelli spoke up, looking confused. ¡°I thought we already were. What¡¯s changing?¡±


    Razia stared her down, just long enough for the girl to wilt. Isa enjoyed her discomfort in spite of her fear and anger. ¡°It was unofficially before. Not much is changing for you all, it¡¯s mostly things Quentin and I have to deal with. You¡¯ll still make the same pay and have all of your perks and benefits.¡± She licked her lips. ¡°But we¡¯ll be expected to provide entertainment at the get-togethers of some of Cicero¡¯s friends and allies. Not mandatory, and you will be paid a special fee for your troubles.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your solution?¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°We get mixed up with dangerous people and so you turn to other dangerous people and we¡¯re the ones who have to risk our asses?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s got a point,¡± said Jenna. ¡°This has been some scary shit. Why are we making it worse?¡± A murmur of agreement passed through the room. Maybe things weren¡¯t as hopeless as Isa thought.


    ¡°Honestly?¡± Razia shrugged. ¡°Orchrisus is a dangerous place. Not sure you¡¯ll be better off on your own again. We offer the best safety we can, and we¡¯re working on making sure something like the other night never happens again. If you want to leave, no one¡¯s going to stop you or hold it against you. We¡¯re not going to make you do anything against your will.¡±


    Lynne cleared her throat. ¡°I think we all know how much of an improvement that is over the alternative,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s not Darriq.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°He¡¯s not like Otho either,¡± said Samantha, to Isa¡¯s complete lack of surprise. It always came back to Otho for her. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Neither am I,¡± Lucy said, turning towards Isa. ¡°If anyone tries anything on a job, no matter who they are, Mr. Q will break pieces of them off. I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m not too worried.¡±


    It was Jenna¡¯s turn, and for once she was a badly needed voice of reason. ¡°Well, I am. Things have been good, but good doesn¡¯t matter if it ends with one of us dead.¡±


    ¡°One of us is already dead,¡± said Isa, struck with inspiration. She made eye contact with Razia and continued. ¡°Did everyone forget about Maria, or Quentin¡¯s little pity party after? Why was that again, Razia? What could Quentin have done to save her again? I forgot.¡±


    In times like these, Razia was adept at hiding her true feelings when she wanted to. Either she didn¡¯t or couldn¡¯t hide her frown. ¡°We both tried bribes and threats to get her free. Nothing worked.¡±


    ¡°And you were there when she died, right?¡± Isa pressed on. ¡°Watched her be killed by the Butcher. Quentin couldn¡¯t have stopped him somehow?¡± She arched her brow, smiling. Judging by the way Razia froze, her message was received loud and clear.


    ¡°We were there, yes,¡± she said. ¡°But it was the DeathHawk who killed Maria. Our last minute bribe didn¡¯t work. We almost succeeded, but didn¡¯t. I miss her a lot.¡±


    ¡°We all do,¡± said Samantha. She then added, ¡°Trish is doing okay with my family. She¡¯s a tough kid and is bouncing back. You couldn¡¯t save Maria, but you¡¯re making sure her daughter is okay.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Kelli interrupted, earning her glares from both Razia and Isa. ¡°I feel safer here than I do out there. I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡± That meant it was everyone but her and the two men, who weren¡¯t there for this little meeting. They¡¯d find out later, Isa assumed. There were plenty of benefits from living at the Garden, as annoying as it could be to share space with the others. Always being up to date on news was one of them.


    So it was down to Isa and what she decided. To her frustration, she was on the fence. The fact that everyone made some good points filled her with bitter resentment. More than anything, she wanted to be able to just say ¡®fuck you¡¯ and leave. Truth was, Isa had gotten comfortable. More than comfortable, complacent. For the month they¡¯d been open, things had never been so smooth or easy. Until they weren¡¯t, and she was painfully reminded of every fear and doubt that never went away, only lay dormant.


    ¡°Can I talk to you in private?¡± Isa asked Razia quietly. All eyes were on her and she hated it.


    Razia nodded once, then turned back to the group. ¡°Anyone have any questions?¡± If they did, they kept quiet about it. Razia walked towards Isa, who opened the door and followed her in. Razia turned around, calm but as serious as Isa had ever seen her. ¡°What is it you think you know, Isa?¡±


    Isa looked towards the door, shaking her head. She went to the far side of her room and sat at her vanity again. Razia took the place Lucy had sat just a few minutes before. ¡°I know enough,¡± she said without any heat. ¡°I know who Quentin is. What he is.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± Razia took a deep breath. ¡°Then say it.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t confronting Quentin himself about it, but it was still a rush, fueled by equal parts fear and excitement. Maybe it was better in Isa¡¯s room, filled with reminders of her culture and heritage. The Ramali were not a fearful people, and above all else they were honest. They didn¡¯t run away from the truth. Even if her hands trembled while she said it. ¡°Quentin¡¯s the Butcher.¡±


    Razia looked down. ¡°He was the Butcher. Not anymore.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Isa scoffed. ¡°Do you think you can just stop being something like that? Do you have any idea how many people he¡¯s killed? If you go around asking them, chances are more often than not people will have known one of his victims. I lost a cousin to him, six years ago. You¡¯re not from around here. You couldn¡¯t possibly know how much of a feared figure he was for ten fucking years. Mothers would warn their children to behave or he¡¯d end them!¡±


    ¡°And are you afraid of him, Isa? After all this time with us? After all he¡¯s done for you. Do you think he¡¯s just a killer and that¡¯s all there is to him?¡±


    That was the hard part. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­I don¡¯t know,¡± Isa admitted, feeling like she lost something for it. ¡°I¡¯m having trouble with this. Trouble with reconciling who I know and what he¡¯s done.¡±


    Razia nodded patiently. ¡°I understand. That¡¯s actually how he and I got together. We met one night after an execution, and he walked me back to town. I figured out who he was by then and I teased him about it before we parted. When he came looking for me, it wasn¡¯t to shut me up or beg me to stay silent.¡± She smiled at the memory. ¡°It was to warn me about men coming after me. I had to get to know him better after that.


    ¡°Even with all the hiccups and the loss, it was one of the few decisions in my life I have absolutely no regrets about. What do you have against him, Isa? You¡¯ve had a problem with him right from the start and I¡¯ve never understood it. Is it really because of the Silk Lounge?¡±


    Isa almost laughed. ¡°It was at first,¡± she admitted. ¡°The Silk Lounge was a shithole. We fucked scum but we were protected. Mostly. I didn¡¯t like having to uproot and start over. How could I not hold it against him when I lost a place that was halfway decent?¡± There was more to it, but it was complicated, even to Isa. How could she talk about the problem when she didn¡¯t fully understand it herself?


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t one of the first things he did when he first joined us saving you from a group of rowdy drunks?¡±


    ¡°...Yes,¡± Isa said with a sigh. ¡°I was fine. Probably. After that I kept waiting for one of the men to come back and try to take it out on me. You know, like what happened to Lucy. He shows up, causes trouble, you cause trouble, and then things keep heating up and getting violent because of him? I¡¯m¡­¡± Lucy¡¯s earlier words haunted her. ¡°I¡¯m scared of him. I¡¯m scared of you too. I¡¯m scared of what you two bring around, but you know what really pisses me off?¡±


    Razia shook her head.


    Ramali didn¡¯t run from the truth, no matter how much they wanted to. ¡°It pisses me off that things are better. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and crush us all. Right from the start it seemed too good to be true, and it is. We¡¯re never going to be safe, but every so often I start to believe that things are better for us than they are for others.¡± Isa clenched and unclenched her hands. ¡°And I wait to see how that¡¯s going to be ruined. No one else seems to think it will happen. They¡¯re too busy living it up and acting like it¡¯s going to be great forever.


    ¡°No one else is looking ahead or worrying when they should be. Because it¡¯s never going to end so long as either of you have enemies. Let¡¯s be real, Razia, you will always have enemies.¡± To her credit, Razia shrugged and nodded. ¡°And now I found out that so will he. That despite the fact that he seems like an awkward, mopey teenager at times he¡¯s killed more people than all of us have fucked, combined. If anyone else figures it out, how safe do you think we¡¯ll all be? If word gets out, it will be like Lucy only a thousand times worse.¡±


    Razia didn¡¯t answer immediately, and Isa was grateful for that. If she had come out with platitudes or empty reassurances, Isa would¡¯ve screamed. As bad as things got, it was good to finally be taken seriously and not just written off as a bitch. Maybe Isa was a bitch, but if she was it was because no one else was willing to be. No one should be above scrutiny, and slavish devotion towards anyone was not only wrong, but dangerous to them all.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you found out about Quentin,¡± Razia started slowly, standing up. ¡°And I guess it really doesn¡¯t matter. You¡¯re right. If word gets out, then chances are he¡¯d be a target and we could all very easily be collateral damage. I could say we¡¯re working on it and won¡¯t let it happen, but if you didn¡¯t believe me before, why would you start believing me now? What do you want, Isa?¡±


    The simple question unraveled her. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Isa, looking down, wringing her hands in her lap. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m more scared of being right or being wrong about him. I want things to be good -- stay good. I want for us all to be safe, and to prosper and thrive. I don¡¯t want to leave, but I don¡¯t know how to stay.¡± She slumped in her seat.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Razia, ¡°I guess it all comes down to you, then. I¡¯ve made my case, and so has everyone else. At this point you either trust us, or you don¡¯t. I just ask that if you¡¯re going to rat Quentin out, give us some warning. I won¡¯t stop you and neither will he. Before you make any big decisions, maybe just talk to him for a bit. If you want to leave, you can go and we¡¯ll pay you for your silence if we need to.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Isa snapped, grateful for the ember of anger that kept her from collapsing. Anger was easier. ¡°I don¡¯t want or need hush money. Maybe I will talk to him,¡± she conceded. ¡°I¡¯m not promising anything though.¡±


    ¡°Of course. If there¡¯s nothing else?¡± Isa shook her head. Razia nodded to her and exited, leaving Isa alone with her thoughts.


    Nothing added up anymore. Things may have been worse before, but they were simpler. Sitting there alone in her room, Isa couldn¡¯t remember a time when she¡¯d felt less certain about anything. There were no easy solutions, no last puzzle pieces that clicked into place and made sense. All she had were more questions, and an uncomfortable amount of them pointed inwards.


    Isa got up and flopped onto her big, plush, comfortable bed, groaning. She looked up at the expensive wall hangings and tapestries, at the nice rug and decent sized room she shared with no one. Every step of the way she¡¯d complained and questioned everything, and yet here she was living in relative luxury compared to most of the city. That confused her more than anything else. More than ever, she toyed with the idea that she was wrong about everything, but if all her fears and worries were misplaced¡­what did that mean? Who was she?

 Chapter 78: Take a Breath

    Chapter 78: Take a Breath


    While grief was nothing new for Quentin, celebrating that grief instead of wallowing in it was new territory. Demetrius¡¯ memorial lasted longer than he expected, and he stayed until the end, coming back home long after dark and feeling no pain. He staggered into the atrium suppressing a laugh, catching himself on a pillar before he fell.


    ¡°Wow, haven¡¯t seen you like this in a while,¡± Razia said from her place on the lounger. She pushed herself upright, smiling crookedly. ¡°The memorial went well, then?¡±


    Quentin wobbled a little, keeping one arm around the pillar for support. He thrust a finger into the air, and said, ¡°Yes! Better than I expected. Everyone was¡­honestly great.¡± His eyes focused somewhere near her and he let out an uninhibited giggle. ¡°For the first time in my life, I was one of them. We were all there together, remembering our friend. And it was good. Hurt like a motherfucker, but we focused on all the good times and the angry shit he would say when motivating us.¡±


    Razia slipped off the lounger and came up to him, nose wrinkling at the fumes coming off him. She pressed herself up against his chest. He didn¡¯t hesitate, lowering his head for a quick kiss. That hadn¡¯t gotten old yet, and he hoped it never would. ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± she said. ¡°I was kind of worried it would end poorly, or you¡¯d come home upset.¡±


    ¡°I was too, at first,¡± he admitted. ¡°But we all got to drinking --¡±


    ¡°I can see that. And smell it.¡±


    ¡°--and every time someone finished a story about the old turtle, we¡¯d all share a drink and then it was someone else¡¯s turn to tell a story. Everyone had a story, so there were a lot of drinks. Do you think I drink too much?¡± he asked, brows furrowing in concern.


    Razia shook her head, laughing. ¡°You know, sometimes I wonder how you drink as much as you do without getting fat or having a constant hangover. I¡¯ve been thinking about that for a bit, actually. How¡¯s your shoulder doing?¡±


    That threw him for a loop. ¡°My shoulder? I mean, I guess it¡¯s been sore and all, but it could be worse. I almost have full range of motion again. Why?¡± Quentin let go of the pillar, swaying in place.


    ¡°Well, you haven¡¯t healed it all of the way, right? Even though you can do it. You just did a little bit, and as we saw from your pit fight you can do it on command. So why haven¡¯t you healed it all of the way? You could do it now, if you wanted.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit, you¡¯re right,¡± Quentin nodded, his last few wayward brain cells coming together to try to put it into words. ¡°It scares me,¡± he said. ¡°It hurts really bad when I do it, and I get a bit dizzy and hungry. I guess I just haven¡¯t wanted to do it again if I didn''t need to.¡±


    Taking him by the hand, Razia carefully brought him over to the lounger, where there was a basket. ¡°Yes, I remember you talking about the hunger. Luckily, I got us dinner. Why don¡¯t you try and heal it, and see what happens?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, not seeing a point in resisting. Sure it was scary, but at least he wouldn¡¯t be alone. He sat down next to her and took a deep breath. If he concentrated, he became acutely aware of all the myriad aches and pains throughout his body, dulled by a lifetime of endurance and a decent amount of wine. The wound stood out as dull, pulling sensation in his shoulder. Like it was being pinched and pulled at the same time. It wasn¡¯t comfortable.


    The same itching from the other night made him want to tear his flesh off. It flared in pain, stretching until it felt like his arm was going to come off. The feeling of being clubbed over the head sent him reeling backwards. Razia caught him before he fell, then as swift as it had come it left him. His arm no longer hurt, his head was clear, and a light headed weakness like he hadn¡¯t eaten all day made itself known through a wildcat roar that made Razia bust up laughing.


    ¡°Wow, you weren¡¯t kidding about the hunger, were you?¡±


    ¡°I was not,¡± Quentin confirmed, licking his lips. ¡°I think I just made myself sober too. What the hell?¡±


    Razia opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine. ¡°Maybe your body recognizes it as poison. I guess that explains why you can drink so much and not be fat or useless. You want fruit or a skewer?¡±


    ¡°Skewer,¡± he said, taking the bottle from Razia and popping it open. He took a drink, marveling at just how good he felt, outside of the weakness. ¡°My shoulder feels fine, for the record. So I guess that works.¡± Setting the bottle down he took a skewer of meat from her and tore into it. ¡°Gods,¡± he moaned, ¡°this tastes so good right now.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you have the drunk munchies even after you¡¯re no longer drunk,¡± Razia suggested, sticking her tongue out. She took a handful of grapes for herself, smiling and shaking her head at his enthusiasm as she popped one into her mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t want to ruin your good mood, but there¡¯s something you should probably know.¡±


    Part of him recoiled instantly upon hearing that. After the last week, surprises weren¡¯t very welcome. The rest of him was in too good a mood to be bothered by it. ¡°Bad news, then?¡± Quentin shrugged. ¡°No better time for it.¡±


    She looked down into her lap, sighing. ¡°I don¡¯t know how and I¡¯m not sure it matters, but Isa knows who you are. Were. She pulled me into her room to talk about it after I told the girls everything. She knows you were the Butcher, and she¡¯s freaking out a little.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± said Quentin, chewing thoughtfully. Out of the people who might¡¯ve learned about it, she was probably the worst possible choice, other than maybe Samantha. Not that he worried Samantha would judge or hate him for it so much as that she¡¯d find a way to accidentally spill it and get them all killed. With Isa, there was always a lot going under the surface. She was suspicious, distrustful, and often ready to lash out.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? Huh? Aren¡¯t you worried?¡±


    ¡°...No, I don¡¯t think I am,¡± said Quentin, shaking his head. It was a surprise to him too at first, but the more he thought about it the more it felt right. ¡°Either she rats me out, or she doesn¡¯t. I don¡¯t think she will. I think she wants, maybe needs, to have something on me. Something she could use against me if things go sour. You know, to protect herself.¡±


    Razia made a face. ¡°You think that just having that will be comforting to her, but she won¡¯t use it? That¡¯s an awful lot to gamble on. But I guess if you took that chance with me, you¡¯re not unwilling to risk it all on a whim.¡± She ate another grape, looking past him as she thought about it more.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°The thing is,¡± Quentin said, ¡°things have been way better with her lately. She¡¯s even started saying nice things to me when no one else is looking. I think I¡¯ve made some good progress, and I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll throw that away just because. And let¡¯s be honest, Razia. There are a lot of people who know who I was. More than should be safe. Any one of them could spill their guts about it, and the only thing stopping them is brotherly comradery and the fear that they¡¯ll die if they get caught.


    ¡°Which reminds me,¡± he said, eyes lighting up. ¡°I¡¯ve got some good news to counteract the bad.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve got the guard situation taken care of. We¡¯ve got something like twenty volunteers, all willing to take a shift here and there for a few castura. Jonas is feeling about as guilty as me, and he wants to make sure nothing happens again. I guess some other gladiators were moved and joined in. We spent a good chunk of the night talking about it. Felt a little bad, taking the focus from Demetrius but they were all willing and eager to talk. A few of them opened businesses of their own and understand how it is, retiring from action to do something else.¡± Quentin¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Retiring to open a whorehouse was a new one for them, though.¡±


    Razia exhaled, deflating with relief. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic, Quentin! Between Cicero¡¯s men watching the streets and your men watching the Garden, I think we¡¯re going to be okay. At least until Cicero can get us a meeting with Piro to discuss getting him the fuck out of my life. Maybe we can bribe him to forgive and forget.¡±


    ¡°How likely is that?¡± Quentin finished devouring his skewer and reached for some of her grapes.


    ¡°About as likely as me going celibate. Probably not going to happen, but I¡¯m sure there are circumstances where it¡¯s not impossible.¡±


    ¡°If you went celibate on me now I think I¡¯d be a little upset,¡± said Quentin, looking down and a little pleased with himself. The change in their situation had been a little easier than he expected, and the high still hadn¡¯t worn off. ¡°Maybe with a big enough bribe we can court the impossible. Even after buying the house, my pockets are fairly deep. And we¡¯ll be making more than ever. Minus the new costs.¡±


    Quentin made a face as he thought about it. ¡°Twenty percent off the top for Mr. Cicero, and a flat fee for our guards, and a portion to taxes, and a bit back towards operating costs. Gods, how do people keep it all straight and make a profit?¡±


    Razia puffed up, looking quite pleased with herself. ¡°Leave all that to me. With our popularity, prices have been going up bit by bit. We¡¯re expanding at a decent rate, but now that we¡¯ve got your gladiator friends, once we talk to them a bit we can start bringing girls directly to people and charge way more for it. It takes effort to go to the whorehouse. Rich men love it when women come to them. The only reason we haven¡¯t been doing that from the start is because you can¡¯t be in two places at once. Right?¡± She narrowed her eyes in faux suspicion.


    He shook his head, laughing. ¡°Nope. I can heal myself and sober up quickly, and I think that¡¯s it. That¡¯s enough, to be honest. A savant¡­¡± The idea still tickled and unnerved him.


    ¡°So we add outcalls and that¡¯ll give us a boost,¡± Razia continued, listing it off on her finger. ¡°Parties will be another big one. Nights when we can rent the entire garden out for groups. Maybe even themed parties, based on the seasons and festivals and our favorite plays. I always thought that The Speaker¡¯s Shadow would be vastly improved with more people fucking on stage.¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°We going to have the girls fuck in public and put on a show? Not against it, I just wonder if that¡¯s really consistent with the overall atmosphere of the Garden.¡±


    ¡°If they¡¯re willing,¡± Razia said, finishing off her fruit and taking a pull from the wine bottle. ¡°It¡¯d be another specialty night. Imagine allowing a client the chance to show off with their favorite girl while others watch and applaud.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the stuff my nightmares are made of, actually.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Razia grinned, ¡°but some people would pay good money to do it, and good money to see it. The point is we¡¯ve been taking things slow as we got used to it and the time has come to expand and not only show the world we¡¯re not afraid, but the attack was nothing and it''s business as usual. If we do well enough, bring in more money, we can show Cicero that we¡¯ll be valuable additions to his community. We do that, and Piro trying anything will start a gang war that he can¡¯t afford to commit to.¡±


    She sounded so confident about that. Not for the first time, Quentin suppressed a twinge in his stomach at thinking of her past with the southern crime lord. It was a part of her life that led to their current problems, but more than that it was the reminder of just how familiar she was with their operation. That traitorous voice in the back of his head wasn¡¯t quieter these days, it just had new things to whisper into his ear.


    Trusting Razia after her confession and losing Demetrius was hard, and even as giddy as he was about being with her, part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing. Or if he was just thinking with his dick for the first time in years. Swallowing all of his insecurities down, Quentin asked, ¡°What makes you say that? You¡¯ve said his greatest asset is manpower.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia nodded, ¡°in his own territory. With my help he expanded really fast and took over some rival¡¯s territory. It wasn¡¯t entirely smooth and not everyone who works for him is happy with him. The other gangs big enough to not be consumed by him resent him for his growth and if he overextends, he risks losing power at home. I had a plan for that, but¡­¡± She shrugged, looking away.


    ¡°Great,¡± said Quentin, pushing the last bit of the skewer back into the basket, no longer hungry. ¡°That means you probably know how to fuck with him more if we have to. I¡¯d rather we find peace, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m sorry,¡± Razia said, for about the hundredth time since she confessed. ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay. We¡¯ve got guards, we¡¯ve got plans, and we¡¯ve got connections. All we have to worry about is Cicero¡¯s party next week.¡±


    ¡°And what he wants from me,¡± Quentin added. ¡°And possibly Isa. I¡¯ll talk to her and see if we can come to some sort of understanding, but I¡¯m worried about having to fit in among a group of vicious, greedy crimelords. It¡¯s bad enough I went into a career change blind, this is playing for much higher stakes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me,¡± said Razia. She beamed at him and his remaining trepidations didn¡¯t seem so important anymore. Maybe that was what made it all worth it, in the end. There were things to think about, but they didn¡¯t feel like full worries just then. ¡°I made a point of learning the major players. I haven¡¯t really had to use any of that since the Silk Lounge, but I can get you up to date on the bigger ones. But you know what?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Razia got up from the lounger and offered him her hand. Quentin took it, standing as well and just enjoying the feel of her hand in his. ¡°That¡¯s all stuff for the future. We¡¯ve got time and we¡¯ll get it done, but for now we¡¯ve got something more important: a chance to catch our breath. Let¡¯s worry about all of that tomorrow and go out and do something. Just the two of us.¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely! We¡¯ve been so busy with opening the Garden and now this that we haven¡¯t gotten to see much of the city lately.¡± She wore the same happy, carefree grin that lit up the room. It was what made her face go from merely pretty in her odd, unique style to beautiful. Something that transcended mere appearance and really made her stand out. There was life to her, as big and bright as the sun.


    Quentin thanked his lucky stars he got to bask in that warmth. ¡°Think you¡¯ll be able to avoid getting us into trouble for one night?¡±


    ¡°Only one way to find out, right?¡± Mischief twinkled in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can find us some entertainment that may or may not be safe. How do you feel about dancing, followed by some rabble rousing and light incitement of violence?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Sounds perfect.¡±


    Hand in hand, they went out into Orchrisus and on to more bad decisions.

 Chapter 79: The Prickly Rose

    Chapter 79: The Prickly Rose


    Quentin stared at the note, not sure of what to make of it. Since the attack, life came at them fast and it was all they could do to keep up and keep moving. Slowing or stopping meant stumbling, and there was too much at stake to let that happen. This letter gave him pause as he debated whether it was real, whether it was serious, and whether or not he¡¯d go along with it. Now with just an hour to spare, the time for a decision was coming.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably fine,¡± Razia said, looking over his shoulder. They¡¯d both read the note several times, and argued about it just as many. ¡°I don¡¯t think Cicero would go to all of this trouble just to screw us over on the first opportunity. This is a test.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Quentin grumbled, letting the note drop to his bed. ¡°You¡¯re not the one risking your neck for the shadiest instructions I¡¯ve ever seen. I still can¡¯t believe Isa agreed to this.¡±


    He still hadn¡¯t talked to her or spent any amount of time with her alone over the past couple of days, but that was about to change. When she saw the amount being offered, she agreed and disregarded his apprehensions. ¡°You going to keep me safe or not, Mr. Q?¡± she¡¯d said to him with a huff before disappearing to get ready.


    ¡°But she did. You¡¯re the only one who doesn¡¯t want to do this. If you say no, the answer¡¯s no,¡± said Razia slowly in her I¡¯m-not-manipulating-you-I-promise-BUT voice, ¡°but maybe let¡¯s walk through why it¡¯s a no. Shall we start with the obvious?¡±


    Quentin shook his head, pulling at his hair. ¡°You mean the part where we¡¯re instructed to get off the streets on the river and get onto a boat? Yeah, I¡¯d say I¡¯m a little worried about that. Last time I had to go down to the river, things didn¡¯t turn out so well.¡± He groaned and let his hands drop to his sides. ¡°You really think it¡¯s a test?¡±


    Razia took his hands. ¡°I know it is. He wants to see if you¡¯ll go along with it or back off at the first opportunity. He¡¯s testing your trust and obedience. If he wanted you dead or hurt, he wouldn¡¯t need to go through all of this effort. Not when he seems fixated on you at the moment.¡±


    That part still puzzled Quentin. She¡¯d been completely forthcoming about their conversation while Quentin got pummeled in the ring, and the revelation that Cicero was interested in him specifically rang his bell harder than the fighter had. The most interesting thing about him was a job he no longer had. And maybe the whole savant thing. What was left?


    ¡°A test,¡± he said, sighing. ¡°Okay. Fine. We¡¯ll go to the river and get on a boat and hopefully not be delivered to Piro¡¯s doorstep.¡±


    ¡°If you die I promise I¡¯ll miss you,¡± said Razia, bringing his hand up to her mouth to kiss. ¡°A lot.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°I guess I better get ready then. If nothing else, this will give me and Isa a chance to talk. Or maybe that¡¯s a bad idea if she has to work right after. Gods, nothing is easy is it?¡±


    Razia released him with a laugh. ¡°Of course not. If it was easy, would it be worth doing? We¡¯ll be fine here. Jonas and someone else will be here to watch us, right? I¡¯ll play the role of host and you keep the two of you safe. When we meet up later we¡¯ll laugh about it.¡±


    He was a beaten man. ¡°Probably,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t have to like it.¡± He left her laughing in delight as he rummaged through his closet for upscale clothes. The note had only been specific about one thing, and that one thing was nearly as terrifying as the vague instructions: their client tonight was highborn and would expect nothing less than perfection. He chose a black and red toga, something that looked fantastic on him but would probably attract attention were it not for the cloak he wore around it.


    Minutes before they were due to leave, Quentin went over to the Garden to collect Isa. After patiently accepting some compliments (¡°Ooh, those colors are great on you!¡±) from some of the girls and gentle ribbing (¡°Who you impressing tonight? Can I come?¡±, he knocked on Isa¡¯s door and entered when he heard his name.


    Isa stood in the center of the room, breathing in deeply and slowly. She looked about as nervous as he felt. More than that, she looked ready. Her dark bronze skin practically glowed, and her silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders with a bounce he didn¡¯t normally see. What little makeup she wore made amber eyes and burgundy lips pop. She wore layered silk and was the very picture of Ramali beauty.


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Quentin, entirely forgetting the unresolved issue between them. ¡°You look incredible. You always outdo yourself.¡±


    The corners of Isa¡¯s lips twitched, but no more than that. ¡°If someone is paying five aquilos for my time, they¡¯re getting me at my best.¡±


    That was the deciding factor. That meant one for Quentin, one for Cicero, and the other three went to Isa. It was as much money as she made in a good week, and Quentin couldn¡¯t blame her for hopping on it. But he was definitely surprised at her willingness.


    ¡°Are you ready to go?¡± he asked.


    She scoffed. ¡°Of course I am. Are you good to keep me safe? You¡¯re dressed way above your station. You don¡¯t look much like a killer for once.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. If anything happens, I¡¯ll lay down my life to buy you time to escape.¡± Quentin opened the door and motioned for her to go. It was hard to take any barb from her seriously, now that he knew her better. Isa passed him with a haughty huff that made him snicker.


    ¡°Oh wow,¡± Lucy said, gaping at Isa.


    ¡°Close your mouth sweetie, you look like one of our clients,¡± said Isa, smiling.


    ¡°Next time I want to go!¡± Samantha said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be too long until you¡¯re requested,¡± Quentin said. He looked over the assembled girls and guys there, crowding around the atrium. ¡°Cicero¡¯s watching the streets and Jonas and the boys are watching the house. You should be safe, but if anything happens let me know and I¡¯ll break something or someone.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good Bossman,¡± Jenna shrugged from the couch.


    The two of them went out the front door, heading south down the avenue that missed the busier parts of the city. It wasn¡¯t going to be an especially long walk, but Quentin wondered if maybe they should think about investing in a carriage and a beetle to take them around. The night was young and there were plenty of people out and about, most of them better off than the majority of the city. It was as safe there as it ever got in Orchrisus.


    Isa surprised him by looping her arm around Quentin¡¯s as they strolled down the street at a relaxed pace. They had plenty of time to make their appointment, and there was no rushing Isa without ruining her look. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re touching me,¡± Quentin said, keeping his eyes on the road. ¡°Won¡¯t the other Ramali disown you if they see you?¡±


    ¡°They disowned me years ago when I came to the city and changed,¡± she said, calm but with a quiet edge beneath her words. A lazy sort of contempt. ¡°If you¡¯re cursed to them, so am I. Although I¡¯m maybe not so cursed as you are. My hands are clean, at least.¡±


    There it was. Her tone didn¡¯t change or betray any emotion. It was her usual mask of sneering boredom. Quentin sighed and looked around. People were looking at them as they passed but no one was going to be close enough to pay attention to one conversation among hundreds. Not if they were careful. ¡°Got something you want to say to me, Isa?¡± Quentin asked.


    ¡°How do you live with yourself after what you¡¯ve done?¡± She kept her eyes forward and words vague. She understood the current game.


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    ¡°I don¡¯t have much choice,¡± said Quentin. ¡°It¡¯s either live with myself or kill myself, and I¡¯m not ready to be a shade just yet.¡±


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll enjoy being a shade?¡± Isa said in a silky voice. ¡°You seem good at hurting people. Spending eternity tormenting the wicked seems like a perfect fit.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Believe it or not, I don¡¯t enjoy causing pain.¡± He paused. ¡°Not usually, at least. Razia¡¯s showing me when it¡¯s more agreeable.¡±


    Isa broke first, snorting in a very unladylike way. Quentin joined her, chuckling until they had to stop in the middle of the street and hold each other up. After that, it was like a spell was broken. Ignoring the weird looks they were getting they continued on past a small public garden where kids were running around under a manmade canopy for shade.


    ¡°So that¡¯s finally happening, is it? Maybe now you won¡¯t moon over her so much. Pun very much intended.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re the only one who would probably believe we haven¡¯t been together until recently,¡± Quentin admitted. ¡°Samantha and the rest seemed to buy it well enough. Why not you?¡±


    The dusk-girl looked up at him with an arched brow. ¡°You were too uptight. You had the look of a man who very badly needed to get laid if you were going to relax at all. In spite of everything going on, you seem more relaxed, so I must assume you¡¯re getting some.¡±


    A bit of color reached his cheeks. It didn¡¯t burn the way it had in the past. Isa was right. It was different now. He was different now. All he had to do was ignore the little voice telling him to be miserable and everything got a little bit better, even with all the bullshit going on. ¡°Sharp eyes. I always appreciate that about you.¡±


    ¡°Sharp enough to know there was something dark in you,¡± she returned without missing a beat.


    His patience buckled. ¡°Do you actually care about my past or are you just using it as a way to keep control? You used to work in the Silk Lounge. You¡¯ve probably mingled and consorted with killers before. What makes me so bad compared to them?¡± He forced a smile on his face as they passed an old couple who gaped at his appearance. They were almost to the river now.


    ¡°You mean other than scale? None of them pretended to be anything other than what they are.¡±


    ¡°And I have?¡± Quentin looked down at her. ¡°When?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer him. They walked in silence until the avenue ended and they had to take a side street to North River Row. She waited until there was no one else around before asking, in a voice too small and constrained to be her own, ¡°What really happened with Maria?¡±


    A familiar stab of pain in his chest. It was easier now. She¡¯d been dead longer than they knew each other, but even now he could picture the way she fussed and fretted over the other girls, and how she¡¯d make sure Quentin got enough to eat while he was out with them. Swallowing a lump, he said, ¡°I thought I was able to stop it from happening, but I couldn¡¯t. A bad man promised me I wouldn¡¯t have to kill her.


    ¡°When the time came and it was just me and her left, I expected him to try something. Maybe talk up how I was going to brutalize her and take my time with her. Amicus is a bastard that way. Instead, he had a new killer come in. He shot her with a bolter right in front of me. I¡¯m sorry, Isa. There was nothing I could do about it.¡±


    ¡°Nothing? And this man, is he still alive?¡± she demanded.


    Quentin winced. ¡°He is. I tried to confront him and he shot me too. I spent most of that week moping into a bottle, but the first couple of days were also spent licking my wounds. If I could go back and take the shots for her, I would.¡±


    Isa scoffed. ¡°There you go, pretending again.¡±


    ¡°What makes you so sure I¡¯m pretending?¡± Quentin asked sharply. ¡°Do you really think me capable of deception? What in our time together makes that seem likely?¡±


    They stopped in their tracks. Isa stared him in the eyes, a familiar look of her building up a tirade or accusations froze before it could be unleashed. ¡°No,¡± she finally said, looking away. ¡°I don¡¯t, and that¡¯s what bothers me. Everyone lies. Especially in this city. And that¡¯s what bugs me about you, Quentin. You don¡¯t make sense to me.¡±


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, that goes both ways,¡± Quentin said, motioning with his head for them to continue on. ¡°You¡¯re hot and you¡¯re cold and I never know which Isa I¡¯m going to get. One day you¡¯re busting my ass about every failure I¡¯ve ever done and the next you¡¯re talking with me like nothing is wrong, complimenting me even. What do you want from me, Isa?¡±


    ¡°...I don¡¯t know,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°I want for things to make sense.¡±


    ¡°And things only make sense when everything is wrong and everyone¡¯s against you, huh?¡± Maybe Razia was better with people, but Quentin wasn¡¯t completely blind. He¡¯d had plenty of time to observe them all, and Isa in particular had probably given him more to think about out of any of them except for Razia. ¡°It¡¯s easier when everyone and everything is a disappointment. Is there anything that meets your impossible standards?¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t know what he expected out of Isa, but an immediate answer was not it. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Samantha and Lucy meet my standards. As does my room. I¡¯m quite happy about that. You do. Half the time.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have guessed it, with the way that you act.¡±


    Just as the note instructed, there was a stairway leading down from the side of the bridge down to the river¡¯s shore. Down there were people with fishing lines in the river, and the occasional dock, some with little captains, shouting their offers to take people across instead of walking the mile long bridge. More eyes were on them now. Regardless of whether she¡¯d like it or not, Quentin pulled Isa close and gave the others a wide berth as he continued on down the line. The sound of the river rushing past them was a pleasant white noise.


    ¡°I want to be better,¡± Isa said, startling him. He almost asked her to clarify when she continued, ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡±


    ¡°You could start by trusting me,¡± he said. ¡°Like I have to trust you now. There¡¯s a lot you could do to hurt me if you wanted to. My old friend,¡± Quentin winced at the thought of the old conversation with Demetrius, ¡°would¡¯ve advised me to silence you anyway I could.¡±


    ¡°If you did it would just prove me right,¡± said Isa, sneering at a nearby sailor making kissy lips at her.


    ¡°Would that satisfy you? Would being proven right finally make you happy as you go off to meet the Darkstar?¡± There was no heat to his voice, only honest curiosity.


    Isa sighed, pulling away from Quentin as they reached the last dock before the shore ended, melding the water and the wall of earth. There was a boat there, and a man in a cloak waiting patiently. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell anyone,¡± she said. ¡°Not yet, at least. Maybe I will, if you disappoint me bad enough. For now, I am trusting you. I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I? Despite knowing what I know about you.¡± Her lips twitched into an almost smile. ¡°Even if you are a cold hearted killer.¡±


    So many people had called him that, accused him of that, it was impossible not to feel the sting. It wasn¡¯t quite the same though. She said it so often it felt like she didn¡¯t mean it. Just something to keep him at arm¡¯s length. He smiled. ¡°Good.¡± Turning to the cloaked man still waiting on the two of them he said, ¡°Only the gardener loves the prickly rose.¡±


    The boatman answered immediately, ¡°Her adept hands can pluck it safely. Mr Q. I presume?¡±


    It was now or never. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s us,¡± said Quentin as he braced himself to go with a strange man on a boat to an unknown destination.


    The boatman motioned for them to come aboard. It was a decent sized rowboat, the kind meant to take passengers across the river and no more than that. Carefully stepping into the boat first, he took Isa by the hand and helped her to her seat. The boatman untied the boat and hopped in, manning the oars. With a few strong strokes they pushed away from the shore and out into the river that cut Orchrisus in half.


    By unspoken agreement, their conversation was over, or at least over for now. Quentin didn¡¯t think Isa would betray him, even if he did disappoint her. In some way she reminded him of a toothless Dunewalla, snapping at anything that got close to hide how helpless it was. If he got close she¡¯d gnash her teeth and throw barb after barb at him, but in the end they were on the same side. They both wanted the Moonlit Garden to succeed and for them all to prosper. Maybe that was enough.


    The city melted away until the shore was a distant sight. It was only a few minutes in before the boatman put the oars down. ¡°This should be close enough,¡± he muttered. Out from his cloak he produced a small, dark red orb. The orb glowed a dull, low red.


    The boat stopped in place, water crashing against it, but they remained where they were. Then they turned, moving unnaturally in the water until they were pointed at an odd angle. For the first time that night Isa looked truly uneasy. Quentin agreed. With a violent lurch the boat sped forward, heading towards the center of the river.


    ¡°Never get tired of seeing people freak out,¡± the boatman laughed. ¡°You¡¯d do well to tell no one where you are headed, or how you got there. They have ways of finding out, and they will not be happy with you. Watch your mouth and remember where you are and who you¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Isa demanded. ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    But Quentin already figured it out at this point. Only once in his life had he gotten a talk like that, and if they weren¡¯t going to the south side of town, that left only one possible place to go.


    ¡°The palace,¡± he said. ¡°Our appointment is with someone in the palace.¡±

 Chapter 80: High Quality Bitches

    Chapter 80: High Quality Bitches


    The rowboat powered its way against the current, drawn towards their destination by what Quentin assumed was magic. The boatman looked comfortable, sitting back with one hand on the dark red orb as it pulsed periodically. Spray from the river misted into the boat, reminding Quentin that he was not a very strong swimmer. Still, it was their destination that scared him more than the chance of falling overboard.


    ¡°The palace?¡± Isa inhaled sharply. ¡°Is that true?¡± she asked the boatman.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°My lips are bound. We¡¯re heading towards a top secret dock in a very private place. Make of that what you will. I¡¯d suggest you just enjoy the ride and not worry about it.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Isa muttered. Her hands went to her hair and clothes, checking to make sure everything was in order.


    Quentin opened his mouth to try and reassure her, and thought better of it. If Isa needed to fret and fuss over her appearance to soothe herself, that was her business. He did as the boatman suggested and just settled in, reminding himself that they were safe and this was a good thing. Razia¡¯s voice was practically whispering in his ear, telling him about all the possibilities and opportunities this could bring. That Mr. Cicero was even more well connected than they thought. It beat worrying about things outside his control.


    The ride was silent apart from the rush of water all around them. The night was still relatively young and a half moon hung high in the night sky, a little too dim for their small boat to be seen on either shore. Sure enough, they approached the southwest side of the solitary island in the center of the river. The closer they got, the more the sky was swallowed by the edges of the palace, cliffs looming high over the river. They went straight for the nearest cliff, speeding their way directly at some rocks.


    ¡°Quentin¡­¡± Isa said with alarm. ¡°Are we going to -- we¡¯re going to crash!¡±


    The boatman wasn¡¯t worried, so neither was Quentin. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said. ¡°Probably. If we die I guess I won¡¯t have to worry about you staying silent, huh?¡±


    She turned to shoot him a dirty look that didn¡¯t last. Isa snorted and shook her head. When she looked forward again the boat went right into the cliff -- and through the illusion. Quentin let out the breath he was holding and relaxed, blinking at the sudden bright lights of a line of torches along the walls of the secret grotto. A marina with four spaces for boats, three of them already full, awaited them. Along with a handful of armed men.


    The boatman put the orb away as they slid into the empty spot, tossing a rope around the piling and tying it down. He paid them no mind, so Quentin carefully stood up, offering his hand to Isa. She went up onto the dock first, and he stepped onto solid ground right as two of the guards walked down the marina to meet them there.


    ¡°You the pimp and whore?¡± the older of the two asked in a low growl.


    Isa opened her mouth to protest, but Quentin put his hand on her arm and said, ¡°That¡¯s us. I believe we¡¯re expected.¡±


    The guard grunted before grabbing Isa by the arm and yanking her forward. The other one patted her down roughly. She looked to Quentin for help, but he just shook his head and held still as they switched from her to him. They took his knife from his belt and stepped back. The grizzled one said, ¡°Alright, some ground rules. You will speak when spoken to, you will not touch any of them without invitation. You will not raise your voice or be threatening in any way or we¡¯ll come down on your asses. This is a one night deal only and choosing you is not a commitment for anything more, and is certainly not an endorsement. Is this understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Quentin answered for both of them. Isa, lips pursed, nodded.


    They were led up stairs carved into the side of the island, up into a corridor leading into what Quentin assumed to be a deep, dark part of the palace where no one would disturb them. He kept his hand on Isa¡¯s arm and held her close, sandwiched in by their escorts as they climbed the stairs. They walked for only a couple of minutes before they came to a blank wall. The younger of the two guards went ahead and fiddled with something unseen. The wall opened up, and there they were.


    The room they were in was big, rich, and a bit ostentatious for Quentin¡¯s tastes. White marble pillars sat in the center, carved with scenes of naked men and women either frolicking or fucking. Big couches and loungers like the one in his home lined the walls, most underneath portraits of beautiful people wearing only jewelry or a cape. Spinning lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting the room in a low, ephemeral glow. Quentin stifled a snort. Leave it to the royal family to have a big room dedicated to the excess celebration of sex.


    They weren¡¯t the only ones invited. As Quentin half expected, there were three pairs of people in there, other than the guards. They were very clearly counterparts to him and Isa. It must¡¯ve been a party, with a sampler of ladies for the royals to choose from. Scattered all around the room, they turned to look at the newcomers. Quentin did a quick scan, putting on his neutral half-scowl as he checked them out.


    Closest to them was a lean, tattooed woman with her dark hair pulled back into a tight braid all the way down to her waist. She leaned against one of the pillars while her girl sat primly on a couch nearby. Her girl had a strong, handsome jawline and bright green eyes that met Quentin¡¯s with no fear but a determined ferocity. Further on down was a Ramali man in nice clothes holding onto a leash. At the end of the leash was a petite blonde with sharp cheekbones, wearing a bland but tight outfit. She didn¡¯t look up. On the far side of the room was an older man laying down on a lounger, eyes closed. His girl sat with his feet in her lap. Out of all the other women, she was dressed the best, looking almost as classy as her master.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± the young guard grunted before going back down the secret passage in the wall. A few guards remained, but they stuck around the two sets of doors on opposite ends of the room, leaving the occupants to kill time together.


    Isa looked around before chuckling. ¡°So that¡¯s why I was requested.¡±


    Quentin turned to her. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Isa gestured to the others with a sweep of her arm. ¡°We¡¯re all dusk-girls.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°All of them? You can tell?¡±


    She shot him a withering look, like ¡®of course I can¡¯. ¡°I recognize Sarah,¡± she said, nodding towards the girl on the leash. ¡°Poor girl is owned by Aziz. If half of us are dusk-girls, it stands to reason that the others might be too.¡±


    ¡°Owned?¡± Quentin¡¯s lip curled. For a moment he thought the leash was just a personal touch, or maybe an egotistical flourish. No, it was a pimp and a slaver. He was certainly in good company. ¡°Judge me all you want for my past, at least I¡¯ve never owned anyone else.¡±


    Before she had a chance to retort, the lean woman with the tattoos turned to him, eyes lighting up with excitement. ¡°You,¡± she said, closing the distance between them. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of you. Big pale fucker, scary yet well dressed, scowls a lot. Mr. Q, is it?¡± There was no real heat or venom in her words, just the sort of strength that came from someone without any fear of others.


    ¡°I am,¡± Quentin confirmed with a respectful nod. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.¡±


    She smiled wolfishly, extending her hand. ¡°Raquel. Did you really break both of Darriq¡¯s arm''s and steal one of his bitches?¡±


    ¡°And ripped some teeth out,¡± Isa added helpfully, smiling at his grimace.


    Quentin took her hand and gave it a firm shake. She gripped it back with considerable strength. ¡°Yes. He started shit with me. I ended it. Lynne came with me of her own free will.¡± He looked past her to Aziz, who watched with the leash held firmly in his left hand. ¡°I¡¯m not in the habit of forcing women to do what I want.¡±


    ¡°Oh ho, you¡¯re a spicy one,¡± Raquel snorted. Over her shoulder she said, ¡°you hear that, Aziz? I think he disapproves of you.¡±


    Aziz shrugged. ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less. We all have our little niches. Mine happens to be perfectly compliant little pets. Isn¡¯t that right?¡± He jerked on the leash.


    Sarah winced and moved closer to him. Her eyes were glassy and lifeless. ¡°Yes sir,¡± she said.


    Quentin¡¯s stomach turned. He hadn¡¯t been at this for too long all things considered, but he had yet to meet a¡­a colleague who he could respect. So far it seemed like all pimps were utter bastards or at the very least bastard adjacent. His instincts told him to just shrug it off and not socialize with them. His rational side reminded him that he needed to interact with the greater North Orchrisan community of lowlifes. That included him now, all the way.


    ¡°Compliant sounds boring,¡± said Quentin, putting all of his contempt into it. ¡°My customers prefer fucking someone with a bit of life to them, not someone beaten into a living corpse. But as you said, we all have our niches. What¡¯s yours?¡± he asked Raquel.


    It was Raquel¡¯s girl who answered, standing beside her with arms crossed over her chest. ¡°Rich idiots and travelers. No one powerful or petty enough to consider crossing us, stupid as that would be.¡± Her voice was low and husky. Isa was probably right about all of them being dusk-girls.


    Raquel put her arm over her girl¡¯s shoulder and kissed her cheek playfully. ¡°Thank you, Veronica. We stick to the edges of town and help caravans with their coming and their going. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any overlap between our circles, provided you''re a good boy and don¡¯t start a fight. Are you a good boy, Mr. Q?¡±


    ¡°Otho and Darriq wouldn¡¯t say so,¡± the older man said from his position on the couch. He looked asleep, but he was evidently listening. ¡°Or Georgie. Word is, you have no respect for territory, seniority, or personal property. Henry Atticus,¡± he said, turning and looking at Quentin. ¡°I believe I¡¯m the next person you¡¯ll be coming after. High quality bitches for the rich and powerful.¡±


    It had been a while since Quentin felt out of his element. He was the new kid on the street, and all of them knew way more about him than he did them. That was something to remedy. Pimps with grudges against him were the last thing he needed. He cleared his throat and addressed the old man. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Henry. Otho was a pig who destroyed himself, Georgie thought he¡¯d attack me instead of speaking civilly, and Darriq hurt one of my girls. I¡¯ve no quarrel with you. Either of you,¡± he added, eyes flitting between Raquel and Henry.


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    ¡°Besides,¡± Quentin added, with a half smile, ¡°I¡¯m not after the wealthy clients. I¡¯ve got medium quality bitches for the newly rich and moderately powerful. Completely different niche. No problems here.¡± Isa smacked him on the arm, glaring daggers at him. He smiled, resolving to apologize for the crime of calling her medium quality later.


    Raquel¡¯s eyes twinkled with mischievous delight. She looked ready to speak when one of the doors opened and two soldiers wearing quality armor with intricate heralding on the front. Behind them were three women, ranging from around Quentin¡¯s age to around Lucy¡¯s. The oldest of them was a dark haired brunette who was quite a bit pregnant, and the youngest was a slight, nervous looking woman with sandy hair and rosy cheeks. Her eyes darted between the different groups.


    The rest of the pimps and their girls stirred and lined up in a neat row. Raquel and Veronica leaned against each other, back to back. Aziz jerked on the leash and Sarah dropped to her knees at his side. Henry¡¯s unnamed but statuesque companion stood behind him with her hands folded in front of her, looking demure. Without needing to confer on it, Quentin and Isa linked their arms and stood together. To his surprise, Isa laid her head on his arm.


    The guards stopped in front of them, then stepped to the side so the three women could address them. The oldest spoke without preamble, ¡°Good evening ladies. My dear baby sister has come of age and you¡¯re her presents. Well,¡± she amended with a wicked smile, ¡°one of you will be. Two others will go to me and our other sister. If you are to address us tonight, you may do so with ¡®my lady¡¯ or ¡®mistress¡¯. Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes my lady --¡±


    ¡°..my lady --¡±


    ¡°Mistress.¡±


    Isa came in last, considering them before she bowed her head and said, ¡°yes princess.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s eyes widened with surprise and recognition. That¡¯s why they looked familiar. The youngest was the spitting image of the Emperor. These were the Caragalla heirs. Only then did he realize what Isa had done by saying that. He squeezed on her arm, just hard enough to be a warning. He wasn¡¯t sure he had it in him to punish her for being herself, but Quentin was pretty sure the guards would do it for him if she wasn¡¯t careful.


    The pregnant woman, Lavinia if he remembered, clicked her tongue. Coming up close to the two of them, she looked them up and down with a smirk. ¡°Always good to see a Ramali recognize who rules them. You¡¯re not one of those rebellious radicals who go on and on about being given land back?¡±


    Isa smiled, and in that smile Quentin saw some of the fear that had been driving her, but some of her familiar fire. Isa was the absolute worst person to be baited like that. She was going to get the two of them killed. Torn between speaking up and risking offending the princess, he froze in place. Isa didn¡¯t hesitate for an instant. ¡°No, my home is in the city. My lady. I am Orchrisan first and foremost. My cousins, on the other hand, would probably spit in your face even if it killed them.¡±


    A big unanimous wince flowed through the others like a wave. The guards nearest to them put their hands on their weapons. The three sisters looked at them with unreadable faces. Until first Lavinia snickered, and then the nondescript middle sister (Althea?) burst out laughing. Quentin released a breath he didn¡¯t realize he¡¯d been holding. He squeezed her arm even harder. She squeezed back twice in quick succession. He couldn¡¯t tell if she was acknowledging him or taunting him, and before he could think more about it the eldest addressed him directly.


    ¡°Why should we pick your girl? Sell her to us, in your own words. What is she good at and why should she be allowed to pop our dearest¡¯s cherry?¡± The youngest sister Vesta shrank, face turning an interesting shade of red.


    Oh crap. Quentin took a deep breath and thought as quickly as he could. He was getting better at speaking but being put on the spot was still a weakness. When he spoke, the words tumbled out of his mouth as quickly as he thought them. ¡°Isa is one of my best girls. She¡¯s fiery, passionate, and takes pride in what she does. As a companion, she is versatile but excels at domination. All of her clients have praised her for it.¡±


    Gods, how long ago would being that matter of fact about someone close to him¡¯s sexual prowess make him uncomfortable? It almost felt wrong saying that and to royalty no less, but when he thought about it he imagined what Razia would say in their favor. ¡°At the Moonlit Garden, my companions are constantly training to master pleasure in both passion and technique. We take inspiration from the Pierced Heart¡¯s priests and priestesses, and treat pleasure and pain as a spiritual calling.¡±


    He had to bite back a laugh at that. It was technically true, but would probably piss the church off if they made that a regular part of their pitch. Gods, they didn¡¯t need to start any more feuds, especially with the temple. Maybe later once Piro was dealt with. Quentin only hoped that the smile on his face looked confident instead of cheeky or insubordinate.


    Vesta seemed to perk up at it. ¡°Noted,¡± she said, really giving Isa a once over. Isa smirked at her, extricating herself from Quentin and running her hands down the silks covering her chest teasingly. Lavinia cleared her throat and moved on to Aziz.


    ¡°And what about you? Same question.¡±


    Aziz bowed his head respectfully and said, ¡°I offer obedience and safety. Total submission and dedication to your utmost satisfaction.¡± He planted his foot on Sarah¡¯s back and shoved her to all fours. She presented herself like an animal, head down. Her outfit was a tight slave¡¯s uniform that technically covered everything but showed it all off just the same. Quentin tore his eyes away from her almost exposed backside. ¡°Sarah will do anything you tell her to do without complaint, and without ever speaking of it to anyone. The very picture of discretion.¡±


    Vesta made a face. Althea put her arm around her sister¡¯s shoulders and said, ¡°No, not this one I think. Our dear Vesta isn¡¯t the type of person to bark out orders, now are you?¡± she clicked her tongue while Vesta squirmed in place. ¡°Now me, on the other hand¡­I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll find a use or two for her.¡±


    Azis bowed his head and offered the leash to her. Althea stepped forward and took it, tugging on it until Sarah crawled on all fours and sat at her side, face completely blank and eyes cast down to the floor. Quentin buried any feelings of sympathy he had. It was impossible to save them all, and it wasn¡¯t his responsibility. But her being picked meant that there were presumably only two slots left, and three companions.


    ¡°And you?¡± Lavinia turned towards Henry and his girl.


    ¡°Greetings, my lady,¡± he said, bowing like each of them before him had done. ¡°Gabrielle is a perfect source of joy and comfort. She is specifically trained and suited to being a companion to those with class and grace. She is for more than just base carnal pleasures,¡± he said smoothly with a slight smirk, ¡°and will stimulate the mind just as well as the body. If you choose Gabrielle you will be catered to and treated all night by one of the greatest professionals this city has ever seen.¡± Gabrielle did a curtsy, curly hair bobbing with the motion.


    He couldn¡¯t have been aiming more for Quentin if he tried. Quentin kept his face neutral, focusing on the sister¡¯s reactions. Lavinia looked intrigued, but Vesta just kind of shrugged. Gabrielle was a bit older than the other girls, and even he saw she was probably more cultured and classy than he¡¯d ever be. When Lavinia tilted her head questioningly, Vesta shook hers. ¡°Your services are requested tonight,¡± Lavinia said. ¡°But not for my sister.¡±


    Neither Gabrielle or Henry looked disappointed. Isa on the other hand frowned. There was just one last prospect now, and the sisters walked down the line to Raquel and Veronica. Unlike the others, Raquel didn¡¯t wait to be questioned. As soon as Lavinia stopped moving, Raquel spoke up. ¡°Veronica is, above all else, fun. With her the hours will dwindle away like a candle burning both ends. Just one night and you¡¯ll be begging for more and she is more than happy to give it. Choose Ronnie, and you won¡¯t spend a single second bored.¡±


    Vesta nodded thoughtfully. Veronica blew her a kiss and indeed seemed the most playful and lively of the women, if a bit informal. Maybe it was the informality that did it, because after a short muttered discussion, the youngest Caragalla child stood in front of Isa again. ¡°Y-your master said you¡¯re adept at pain?¡±


    Isa¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to Quentin as if to remind him that he was not, and never would be, her master. ¡°Yes,¡± she said to Vesta, ¡°If you wish it, I will make you choke on your screams.¡±


    The princess¡¯ face darkened. She licked her lips and then nodded. Slowly at first, then growing enthusiastic. ¡°Yes. This one,¡± she said as her sisters crowed in amusement.


    ¡°Ooh, little Vesta¡¯s not going to be able to walk tomorrow~¡± Althea laughed.


    Lavinia reached out and pinched her cheek, even as the youngest tried to ward her off with ineffectual slaps. ¡°That¡¯s our girl, always taking the road less traveled by.¡± To the assembled people, she was all business and authority again. ¡°That¡¯s our selection for the night. For those of you chosen, your masters will receive their retainer as well as a bonus for your silence. For the trouble of making the trip and waiting, refreshments and libations will be brought out. You,¡± she addressed Raquel, ¡°may stay and partake if you like. Perhaps you¡¯ll be chosen next time.¡±


    Quentin then realized they would be separated. Obviously. He¡¯d been so caught up on whether or not Isa would get picked he forgot what it would mean if she was. Waiting around with a slaver and a man who felt threatened by him while Isa had to toe the line between being herself and not offending powerful people by being herself. ¡°Behave,¡± he warned her under his breath.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me what to do,¡± she muttered back, but it was accompanied by a pleased smile. ¡°I¡¯m the companion of a princess. You¡¯re beneath me now.¡±


    He sighed and gently pushed her forward, right up to Vesta who was watching Isa intently. Isa closed the rest of the distance, passing by the older sisters without paying them any heed. She offered her hand to Vesta, who took it in a daze. This was where all her charm was turned on, and her very bearing changed into her alluring but aloof and in control persona. She put a hand under Vesta¡¯s chin and tilted her face up to meet hers, leaning forward to whisper something in her ear.


    Vesta giggled and practically melted, held in place by Isa¡¯s gentle but firm grip on her hand. Whatever Isa said, Vesta was bright red and her mind was well on its way out. Quentin chuckled and shook his head as the three sisters collected their companions for the night and disappeared back the way they came. A few seconds later a parade of servants came in with tables of food and drink and brought them over to the couches before leaving.


    ¡°Alas, no luck this time Ronnie,¡± Raquel sighed, patting her girl on the ass. Veronica just snickered and threw an arm around her.


    ¡°They were probably afraid she would rob them like you do everyone else,¡± Aziz said with a smirk. ¡°At least you got the entry fee. Not a bad amount for just showing up, no?¡±


    ¡°Eat shit,¡± Raquel laughed. She fished a deck of cards from a pocket and held them up. ¡°How about we play a few hands and see how much of your fee you can lose in one go? What about you, Henry? Mr. Q?¡±


    Quentin glanced over to the tables covered with rich and exotic foods. ¡°Maybe after a snack,¡± he said. Ever since discovering his ability, his need to eat often and in great quantities made a lot more sense and he found himself rarely turning down an easy meal. It kept him in fighting condition.


    ¡°And you, Henry?¡± Raquel whiffled the cards from one hand to the other. ¡°Think you¡¯re willing to lower yourself to associate with us street scum?¡±


    The older gentlemen snorted with scorn. ¡°I know better than to play a rigged game,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll happily watch you take these two fools¡¯ shards though.¡±


    Raquel, Veronica, and Aziz sat together on two of the couches, quickly shuffling and dealing out the cards. Quentin left them behind and headed for the table, grabbing a clean plate and filling it with a little bit of everything. He was so focused on making sure he got a good sample he didn¡¯t realize when Henry came up next to him and spoke.


    ¡°So your girl was picked,¡± he said, ¡°and by the princess of the hour no less. Tell me again how you¡¯re only catering to the newly rich? And such a newcomer too. I¡¯ll tell you this right now boy, watch your ambitions. I¡¯m not as easy to take down as the others and I¡¯ve got no tolerance for overeager pups.¡± He grabbed himself a goblet of wine and walked off before Quentin could say anything.


    Frowning, Quentin watched him go to a far couch and sit alone. It wasn¡¯t his intention, none of this was, but if they were climbing they were climbing. This is what it must¡¯ve meant to have real connections. Did they have the same loyalty to Cicero, or was Quentin and Isa more or less cheating to get ahead? The idea didn¡¯t bother him as much as he thought it would, but he still didn¡¯t need any more enemies and certainly not someone doing it for much longer.


    Either way, he reflected, it was a good step up and maybe if Isa performed really well, a repeat customer. For a second he wished Razia was here. She was going to go nuts when she found out who their client really was, and would hate having to miss it. Smiling, Quentin brought his plate over to the couch to watch them play. Maybe he¡¯d even join in and start building bridges.

 Chapter 81: A Slow Night

    Chapter 81: A Slow Night


    The look of bald faced interest and glee on the gladiators¡¯ faces amused Razia. There were plenty of places to buy sex throughout Orchrisus, but until recently the Temple had a monopoly on taking it seriously and treating it with respect. The two men, one a large man in his twenties with a great beard and the other slim and nearly as old as Demetrius had been with short silver hair, craned their heads and looked around the Garden with wonder. Most places to buy sex outside the temple were small and crowded. Maybe it was the big villa that impressed them, or the cleanliness and decor.


    Or maybe it was Samantha smiling and waving to them from her spot on the couch. No one was as warm greeting their new hires as Samantha and Lucy, and Razia wondered if her explanation of the rules they set or the duties they required sunk in. There was only one way to find out.


    ¡°Any questions?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You said we get half off?¡± The younger of the two, David, asked without shame. Beside him Patrick rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Yes. Which means that one night working here is good for an hour of one of our lovely ladies or lads¡¯ time,¡± said Razia. ¡°Any questions relating to your duties?¡±


    Patrick cleared his throat for attention and then spoke. ¡°Seems pretty simple. Two of us in the main room, one in the entrance, and that¡¯ll be Jonas while he heals up. Act when we hear a scream, try not to permanently maim any offenders. Sounds like bog standard guard work. Our presence is worth more than what we do, yeah? Seems like an easy payday. Any chance we¡¯ll be attacked by the Warlords?¡± His hand brushed the knife at his side.


    Of all the things that got the gladiators on their side, Razia hated that Demetrius¡¯ death was the reason. It was bad enough she was responsible for it without the added guilt of eagerly expected vengeance. So far all of them had asked after the invaders, and the answer worried her. No, they didn¡¯t expect another incursion but it was better to be safe. How long would their grief for Demetrius shield them?


    ¡°There¡¯s always a chance, but I hope not,¡± she said with a light chuckle. ¡°They¡¯re bound to be pissed at Quentin for killing their men, so anything¡¯s possible. Was Quentin really Demetrius¡¯ assistant for years?¡± she asked, the picture of wide eyed innocence.


    They exchanged an uncomfortable look. Good, they didn¡¯t know that she knew. Maybe that would keep them discreet. ¡°You could say that,¡± said Patrick, scratching the back of his head. ¡°He and Demetrius were close. Them two and Jonas.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Jonas was Demetrius¡¯ new star,¡± David agreed. ¡°Not sure how that injury¡¯s going to change things, but if he heals up right it¡¯ll be fine. Maybe. Recommend anyone in particular? What about you?¡± The hunger in his eyes wasn¡¯t subtle.


    Razia reached forward and patted his cheek. ¡°I¡¯m not on the menu anymore, I¡¯m afraid. If I were to recommend anything, it would be to come back on a night when you¡¯re not working, when our flowers are fresh and unplucked. But I would recommend¡­¡± her lips twitched. ¡°Kelli is a popular choice.¡± Maybe it was unkind, pushing an unknown quantity on the spy, but as long as she was there she¡¯d have a little bit of fun with it.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll remember that,¡± David said with a nod.


    Voices near the entrance got their attention. A man and a woman walked in together, reminding everyone that they were already open and ready for business. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later, yeah?¡± Razia said, gently nudging David away. He nodded and went to a spot on the wall where he¡¯d have an easy time watching everyone. Patrick shook his head, chuckling.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good enough kid, just overeager. I¡¯ll make sure he keeps his eyes on the customers at least half the time.¡±


    Razia nudged him. ¡°And what about you? We greatly appreciate the lot of you trading off on working shifts, but are the pay and perks to your liking?¡±


    Patrick looked around, a smile spreading across his face. He nodded before turning back to her. ¡°I think so. I¡¯ve worked way worse places than this before, and it¡¯s fair pay. I think you¡¯ll be able to keep a lot of us around on nights we¡¯re not fighting in the arena. Might even get some attention for it.¡± He moved up next to her and raised his hand, reading along with an invisible sign, ¡°The Moonlit Garden, the Colosseum¡¯s official place to go for relaxation. How¡¯s that sound?¡±


    Overwhelming. ¡°We¡¯d need to grow very, very quickly in order to accommodate how many people we¡¯d get!¡± Razia said, laughing and putting her hand on his arm. ¡°Baby steps first, I think. We have to be safe from the Warlords first.¡± She squeezed him before letting him go.


    ¡°You got it,¡± said Patrick. With a respectful bow of his head he took his place opposite David, leaning up against the halfway point between two rooms. Unlike his younger compatriot who stood stiff and unmoving, Patrick looked comfortably at ease and like he was just there, not waiting on anything in particular.


    The night was very much young, but Razia couldn¡¯t stop her thoughts from drifting to Quentin and Isa, out for the night from a weird note delivered by one of Cicero¡¯s runners. She recognized the runner so there was no question of who it was from unless things were way worse than expected. At a certain point carefulness became paranoia and was just self defeating. The note was real, but that didn¡¯t stop the other worries.


    Razia had full confidence in Quentin handling whatever came their way, but Isa was a wildcard for now. Who knew what kind of complications she could throw their way? The worst kind of fears were of the unknown, and she knew better than to dwell on them. When things were uncertain, you dealt with the things in your control and prepared for the worst. That much she could do, and if nothing else she would be too busy to worry.


    For being the first night back after a few nights off, the Garden wasn¡¯t as busy as it could¡¯ve been. Jenna sat between the couple who just came in and Cullen was on the loveseat with a diminutive man sitting in his lap, arms wrapped around him with a demure smile on his rugged face. Samantha was already in her room, the sounds of her exaggerated moans just barely audible. There wasn¡¯t much for Razia to do, so she just walked around the room, eyes on the three clients they had while Lucy laughed at a story Tenchi was telling, face and hands animated the entire time.


    ¡°I¡¯m here, the party can start!¡± A voice called out, followed by a young, rakish man in his mid twenties sauntering into the room. His expensive toga was half falling off and he waved around a bottle wildly. He was a handsome man, and one of their more beloved regulars.


    ¡°Rocco, you know you¡¯re not supposed to bring in outside drinks,¡± Razia said, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around him. She planted a kiss on each cheek. ¡°How are we going to sell you wine if you show up with your own?¡±


    Rocco scoffed, paused, and then scoffed again even louder. His cheeks were already a healthy shade of red. ¡°Do you think I won¡¯t drink more? It¡¯s like you don¡¯t know me at all. Just for that I¡¯m not going to share with you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but if you share with me you¡¯ll run out faster and have to buy my wine,¡± said Razia, taking the bottle from him. ¡°Which will make us happier. Happy enough to not toss your pampered ass out for breaking the rules.¡± She took a pull from the bottle and handed it back.


    Rocco clutched at his chest. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare. You like me too much. Is Samantha available?¡±


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    ¡°Alas, not at the moment. Wait around a while and you¡¯ll get your turn.¡±


    Sighing theatrically, Rocco shrugged. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll just have to share my wine and my company with everyone else. It¡¯s a burden enriching so many people at once, but I¡¯m a giver.¡± He winked and joined Kelli on the couch, offering up the bottle.


    He¡¯d been showing up since a few days after they opened, and made an appearance at least once, sometimes twice a week. As far as Razia could tell, Rocco was universally liked and a perfect gentleman behind closed doors. It was good to see that their little incident hadn¡¯t driven away their most dedicated clients.


    Jonas came in from the entrance, eyes wide. ¡°You¡¯re not going to believe this,¡± he said, beckoning Razia closer. ¡°I had to check my eyes to make sure I wasn¡¯t seeing things.¡±


    The special guest walked in, and Razia understood immediately what Jonas meant. He had the same scowling face and hairline as Quentin, just darker in skin and hair and older, obviously. There was no mistaking Quentin¡¯s father as anything else. He looked around the villa, clearly impressed, then froze when he saw Razia. Similarly intense blue eyes pierced right through her, but it made him smile.


    ¡°You must be Razia,¡± he said, closing the distance. Like most men he looked her up and down. Unlike most, he didn¡¯t seem to be undressing her with his eyes so much as taking her in. ¡°Quentin couldn¡¯t stop talking about you when he visited. Quirrinel Quintius,¡± he said, offering up his hand.


    Razia wanted to scream in delight. Quentin visited his father, the one he was very much estranged from? He hadn¡¯t mentioned that at all. Razia ignored the hand and pulled him in for a big hug. ¡°What a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said, squeezing and pulling back just enough to beam up at him. ¡°When did Quentin visit you? I thought you two weren¡¯t on good terms.¡±


    Behind Qurrinel, Jonas mouthed something Razia couldn¡¯t make out. He looked as surprised as she felt, and excited. She didn¡¯t know how much he knew, but Quentin had come back from the memorial with a lot of good things to say about the teen, so maybe he knew about the family troubles.


    ¡°Ah, yeah,¡± said Quirrinel, pulling back. ¡°There¡¯s¡­there¡¯s a lot he and I need to work on. But he came and saw me when you two had your argument. He told me everything and we hashed some things out. I didn¡¯t have anything going tonight so I thought I¡¯d drop in and see how he was doing.¡±


    For the first time, Razia appreciated how annoying it was, not being told everything. Then again, maybe it was her own fault Quentin didn¡¯t have a chance to tell her about it. The day of that argument had been a long one and very busy by design. ¡°You¡¯ve got some timing, Quirrinel,¡± she said, shaking her head with a rueful smile. ¡°Quentin¡¯s out for a good chunk of the night with one of our girls and I don¡¯t know when he¡¯ll be back.¡±


    Quirrinel¡¯s brows raised. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s moving fast. First he wasn¡¯t sure whether to reject you or not and now he¡¯s with other girls? Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡± It was amazing how proud he sounded.


    ¡°Not like that,¡± Razia laughed, ¡°there¡¯s a private party and one of our top girls was requested. He¡¯s there to protect her and mingle and schmooze.¡±


    ¡°My Quentin, a schmoozer?¡± Quirrinel clicked his tongue. ¡°Not sure I believe it. Should I go then? I don¡¯t want to get in the way if he¡¯s not here.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Razia¡¯s voice rose. ¡°You aren¡¯t going anywhere.¡± She waited just long enough for Quirrinel to be taken aback before she was all smiles. ¡°You came all this way, you think I¡¯m going to let you get away without getting to know you? I¡¯ve only known Quentin for a few months now, I must know the rest!¡±


    Quirrinel¡¯s face fell. He wrestled with himself over something before saying in a muted tone, ¡°I¡¯m afraid you probably know him better than I do by now. It¡¯s been¡­A long time since we were in each others¡¯ lives.¡±


    She understood his sorrow and refused to let it settle in. ¡°That might be true,¡± Razia admitted, ¡°but I only know the man he¡¯s become. You know who he was from the start. I¡¯ll be fascinated to pick your brain and see if I can connect the dots. What¡¯s your poison, Senior Q?¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Senior Q?¡±


    Razia tugged on his arm and led him towards the other room. ¡°Quentin is Mr. Q here, so that makes you Senior Q. What can I get you to drink?¡±


    ¡°Uh, whatever you got is fine, I¡¯m not too picky so long as it burns and gets me drunk,¡± he said, looking all around him. His face reddened in a very familiar way when he saw the girls on the couches watching the two of them come in. ¡°Uh, hello,¡± he said.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest tonight,¡± said Razia, ushering him to an empty spot on the couch next to Lucy. ¡°This is Mr. Q¡¯s father, Senior Q.¡±


    Quirrinel looked around wildly at the cacophony of cheers and greetings all around him, even from a couple of the patrons. Rocco in particular looked away from Kelli, lifting his bottle in a cheeky salute. Lucy went so far as to turn from Tenchi completely and press herself against his side. She was still a little shy these days, but she was returning to duty bit by bit. Quirrinel cautiously threw an arm around her shoulder and looked happy enough.


    ¡°Uh, hi,¡± he said, unable to suppress a pleased grin. ¡°He¡¯s told me so much about most of you. You¡¯re¡­Lucy, right? You¡¯re one of his favorites.¡±


    Lucy¡¯s eyes lit up while others in the room groaned. Tenchi even smacked her with a pillow. ¡°I am?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re not just saying that because I¡¯m pressed up against you?¡±


    Quirrinel¡¯s grin widened, and Razia could see more of Quentin in there, on the rare occasion he let his guard drop enough to be completely open. ¡°No, though it certainly helps. You¡¯re not too hard to look at.¡±


    Lucy, Razia, and even Kelli let out a low ooooh. Quirrinel looked pleased with himself, and very relaxed and comfortable. This was a chance they might not get again for a while, and Razia intended on making the most of it. ¡°What was Quentin like as a kid?¡± she asked. ¡°Like, say, eight years old.¡±


    He screwed up his face in deep thought. ¡°Gods, eight years old. Let¡¯s see. Believe it or not, he was a really soft, quiet, sensitive kid. This was before he¡¯d get into a fight with anyone who looked at him funny and was usually the one getting the crap kicked out of him. He spent a lot of time sitting at home reading until sunset.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Q?¡± Lynne made a face. ¡°A bookworm? Not sure I believe you.¡±


    Quirrinel held up a hand. ¡°Honest truth. My wife was a scribe and she used to make extra copies to bring home. She could never keep up with him.¡±


    ¡°He still is,¡± Razia interjected. ¡°Reads before bed every night to wind down.¡±


    Rocco shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Books. Feh. I could never. Real life is far too interesting to waste it on the ghosts of words from people no longer around. Why read a book when I can be around you fine people, enjoying life?¡± He lifted the bottle in a silent toast.


    Everyone started talking all at once, arguing the pros and cons of books while Razia silently drifted off towards the kitchen where, funny enough, Trish sat reading a book. Trish looked up but Razia just shook her head and motioned for her to keep reading. It was a nice and easy night so far and Razia could get some wine herself. She grabbed a bottle from the cooler and a couple of goblets and brought them back out to the main room. She set them down in front of Quirrinel and poured into both.


    ¡°Oh, thanks,¡± he said, leaning forward to grab first Lucy¡¯s drink and then his own. He smiled at her before going back to the argument at hand.


    Razia took a couple steps back, admiring the scene. There would be plenty of time to talk with Quirrinel one on one. The way she saw it, it was on her to make sure he had a good time and was well welcomed in Quentin¡¯s absence. She may not have known about their meeting but if things were good enough for Q Senior to walk on in, then it was cause for celebration. Idly, she wondered if she would ever be able to mend things with her own father. Probably not, after giving his men the slip. He was the first rich and powerful man she pissed off, and who knew when he¡¯d come looking for her again.


    ¡°Razia!¡± Jonas¡¯ voice called out from the entrance, alarmed if not afraid. Razia got moving instantly, mind already going back to the attack and praying there wasn¡¯t another already.


    When she got there, she was relieved but only a little. Huddled up together in the entrance room were six people, four men and two women, all armed to the teeth and rough looking. The leader was a bald man with a nasty scar going from the side of his neck up past his ear. He wore a lazy sneer on his face, but he and his people weren¡¯t rushing forward or drawing their weapons. Razia recognized him after a second.


    ¡°Ah, Rex, was it?¡± she asked, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes slid over the other faces, memorizing and placing them as she could. ¡°What brings you and yours here tonight?¡±


    Rex smiled, shrugging and spreading his hands. ¡°Celebration. Mr. Cicero said you were the place to go and you¡¯d hook us up. My crew is hungry, thirsty, and in need of a good pound. Tell your other patrons to clear out. The Garden is ours tonight!¡±


    It was then that Razia understood. Quentin wasn¡¯t the only one to be tested tonight.

 Chapter 82: The Lowlife Tango

    Chapter 82: The Lowlife Tango


    ¡°The Garden is ours tonight!¡±


    Well, crap. Razia put a big smile on her face, spreading her hands in a welcoming pose. ¡°And we¡¯re happy to accommodate you,¡± she lied. ¡°The Moonlit Garden is the best relaxation house in the entire city, and it¡¯s all yours. Before we welcome you inside, we¡¯re going to need a couple minutes to set things up and make sure my girls and guys are ready. Would you mind waiting just a little bit while I take care of it?¡±


    Rex¡¯s smile made the scar on his face stretch unpleasantly. ¡°But of course. I¡¯ve heard so much about the place, I wouldn¡¯t want anything but the best for my crew.¡± All around him, the crew let out a group cheer much too loud for the tiny room.


    Razia¡¯s eyes slid over each of them, taking in as much minute information about their appearance and demeanor as possible. One long, deep breath later and ready or not, it was time to act. ¡°Then Jonas here will assist you in checking your weapons into lockers for the duration of your stay.¡±


    The mercenaries shifted and muttered under their breath until Rex held up a hand, silencing them. His eyes never left hers, and there was a sharp, shrewd glint there. ¡°Not a problem. What use will we have for weapons once we¡¯re inside? At your leisure, Ms. Rashid.¡±


    She exchanged a glance with Jonas, who stood in the doorway. He nodded to her and cleared his throat and was back to all business, though there was no hiding the way his jaw was set nor the way his gaze flickered between them all. ¡°Right,¡± he said. ¡°Line up and we¡¯ll get you squared away.¡±


    Razia patted his good shoulder and went back inside. Now that she¡¯d had about a minute to think things through, the initial panic was subsiding. It was easy enough to fall back into schemer mode, thinking of it as an opportunity rather than a trial. She entered the atrium, clapping her hands together to get everyone¡¯s attention. Conversation died down as her girls recognized the look on her face.


    ¡°Alright, so,¡± she started, wetting her lips, ¡°there¡¯s been a change of plans. The Garden¡¯s being rented out for the night. If you¡¯ve not currently with one of our flowers I¡¯m going to have to ask you to clear out for the time being.¡±


    That was four people, Rocco, the couple, and the small dawn-boy sitting in Cullen¡¯s lap. The married couple got up immediately and headed for the door. Rocco raised an eyebrow, but it was Cullen¡¯s client who raised a stink. ¡°But I was here first! Give me one good reason why I should leave.¡±


    ¡®Because if you don¡¯t you run the risk of getting yourself hurt or dead,¡¯ Razia wanted to say. Instead she let out a confident laugh. ¡°Because your next visit here is completely on us, as a thanks for your patience. Will that do, sir?¡±


    He looked at Cullen¡¯s rugged, perpetually brooding face. Sighing, he slid out of his lap and stretched. ¡°Until next time then, Big C?¡±


    Cullen smiled and brought the man¡¯s hand up to his lips. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it,¡± he rumbled. The man departed and Cullen relaxed back on the couch, arm hanging off the side. Unlike Tenchi¡¯s sly, fox-like demeanor, Cullen resembled nothing so much as a big cat, lounging while keeping an eye out for prey.


    ¡°Should I go too?¡± Quirrinel asked, sitting up straight.


    ¡°No,¡± said Razia vehemently. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of kicking you out. You¡¯re more of a VIP than they are.¡±


    He made an appreciative sound and relaxed again, seemingly lost in thought.


    That left just Rocco. Razia turned to him but he was way ahead of her. ¡°If I was only here to indulge in my baser nature then I¡¯d leave, but I¡¯m here for the ambiance as much as the company. Surely whoever rented the Garden out can put up with me watching their shenanigans. I haven¡¯t even had a chance to finish my wine.¡± He raised up his almost empty glass before he downed half of what was remaining, smacking his lips.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Razia said, just not wanting to bother arguing with the playboy. She had more important problems to deal with. She looked over her employees. Just a single slow pass, taking stock of who was out and not busy. Samantha was with a client and there was no way Razia was going to stop them partway through to kick the man out. Isa was out with Quentin, which left Jenna, Lucy, Lynne, Kelli, Tenchi, and Cullen.


    Her scan couldn¡¯t have lasted long, not more than twenty seconds, but in that time everything snapped in place and Razia went with her gut. For all of her problems and bad habits, it served her well most of the time and this was exactly what she was good at. She took a deep breath and let it out.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°There are six of them out there, seven counting the leader. Two women, four men. All of them are a bit more rough and tumble than we¡¯ve gotten used to. I¡¯m talking Silk Lounge type clientele. First and foremost, remember they want entertainment, even above getting their dicks wet. Be funny, be charming, listen to the shit they say and make them feel heard.


    ¡°Lucy, how has your anxiety been? Would getting manhandled by a woman be any better or about the same?¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± Lucy was caught off guard and shrank at the question. After a second she said, ¡°Probably better. Haven¡¯t had many issues with women lately.¡±


    Razia snapped. ¡°Perfect. Out of the two women, there¡¯s one with straight black hair going down to her ass. Approach her and be demure, I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s what she¡¯s looking for. Lynne, I want you to --¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Kelli interrupted. ¡°What she wants? How do you know.¡±


    Rather than get annoyed, Razia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this for a while and I¡¯m smart. You, Kelli, will want to approach the shortest, roughest looking man out of them. He¡¯s the one with a face tattoo.¡±


    ¡°What, why?¡± She sounded so indignant.


    ¡°Because,¡± Razia sighed, ¡°you look the most girl next door out of everyone and he¡¯s going to either go for Samantha when she comes out or for you. Tenchi and Cullen, one of you is likely to go for the other woman, one of you will probably be on call for a man, and might encounter some roughness. Any problems?¡±


    Cullen just shook his head and looked as unflappable as ever while Tenchi laughed. ¡°Not a problem. I know my way around a ruffian or two.¡±


    ¡°Then hopefully a couple of them will want to spitroast you and make the numbers game easier,¡± Razia shot back. That got her a round of nervous laughs, but she was on a roll and continued. Pointing to Jenna she said, ¡°With Samantha in the back, you¡¯re our highlight for now. Let them approach you and just be yourself and if they try to fight over you, pull back and let them do it.¡±


    ¡°And me?¡± Lynne asked, leaning forward on the edge of her seat.


    Razia smiled. ¡°Blondes aren¡¯t as common around here, especially with long hair like yours. Stay back and at least one of them will approach you. Use your attitude to your advantage and make them work for it so they feel special that you accept them. Any questions?¡±


    A quick look around the room showed everyone more or less got it, save for Kelli who looked like she wanted to argue but didn¡¯t. Rocco seemed amused and Quirrinel fascinated by everything going on. He picked a hell of a night to come visit. Razia clapped her hands together. ¡°Great. Everyone on your feet and look alive and welcoming.¡±


    Everyone, including the two patrons, got up. Razia bit her lip to avoid laughing and telling them to relax. It was good that she had their attention so thoroughly. As one last second preparation she went to some of the lanterns hung about the room and dimmed them, casting the villa in a lurid dimness. She went back to the other side of the house with no time to spare. The first of the mercenaries came through, looking no less dangerous for the lack of weapons at their belts. Another came in after a few seconds, and then another. Once in, they shared a similar look of surprise and interest.


    If they were used to the likes of the Silk Lounge like Razia suspected, then this might¡¯ve been the first truly decent establishment they¡¯d been in. The Silk Lounge may have been (overly) decorated, but it was a tacky eyesore that pretended to be better than it was. The Moonlit Garden was clean, well decorated, open and welcoming, and not just a redesigned tavern for lowlifes. Razia waited until everyone but Rex was in before clearing her throat.


    ¡°Ladies, gentleman, welcome to the Moonlit Garden. You¡¯re welcome to any of our people currently out on the floor. We¡¯ve got a full kitchen and extensive wine selection, and your choice of comfortable facilities to enjoy.¡± She bowed, mind racing and kicking herself over not having a staff musician to keep things lively for occasions like this.


    Those were the magic words. The mercenaries practically tripped over each other to call out their drink order at Razia, who stood there and let the wild onslaught of words wash over here. She smiled and said, ¡°Maybe one at a time would be better. Find yourself a partner and I¡¯ll just bring out some drinks and snacks to start.¡±


    That was agreeable enough. They poured on past her over to the atrium. Razia held very still as they set themselves loose in her business. There was a part of her that worried, but worry wasn¡¯t going to help her if things turned to shit. The last of them moved past her and a clamor rose as they found their targets. Finally in sauntered Rex, looking around the room, clearly impressed.


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    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± he said, letting out a sharp whistle. ¡°What a nice place you¡¯ve got here, Ms. Rashid. I trust you have some entertainment for me as well.¡± His eyes were locked on her in a way she didn¡¯t like.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, inclining her head. ¡°What¡¯s your preferred poison, Rex?¡±


    His lips twitched. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never had islander before. Always wanted to, but never got around to seeing you at Otho¡¯s place before you ruined it. Seems like the gods are giving me a second chance.¡±


    Oh. Oh no. ¡°You flatter me,¡± Razia said, leveling a knowing smile his way. ¡°But you want the best we have to offer, and it¡¯s not me. A bit of patience on your part and I have a girl who will take you to another world entirely. Did you ever get a chance to play with Samantha?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± said Rex, shaking his head. ¡°It was nice enough. I wouldn¡¯t say no to a round two, but that¡¯s not what I¡¯ve got my mind set on.¡± He reached for her face.


    Razia intercepted him and brought his hand to her cheek. ¡°Oh, the delights I could show you,¡± she said, kissing his palm. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to make his breath catch and to take her seriously. ¡°But I have a party to start, now don¡¯t I? Why don¡¯t you and I set your crew up first and then we¡¯ll talk.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Rex took his hand back and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m in no rush. It¡¯s time to let the children play. I¡¯ll have my own fun later. Shall we?¡± He offered her his arm.


    She took it. This was not the kind of hiccup she expected to be sent her way, but it figured Cicero zeroed in on something to use against her. Razia didn¡¯t know if Cicero knew about her temporary monogamy or just suspected something along those lines, but damn him for being right anyway. They¡¯d just gotten together, what was she going to do, break that agreement at the first time it became convenient? Absolutely not.


    It was a shame, too. Any other circumstances Razia would¡¯ve been all for it. Rex wasn¡¯t bad looking and he carried himself with an easy, genuine confidence. There was lust in his eyes, sure, but it hadn¡¯t turned him into a jackass. Yet. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean he would take no gracefully. The solution was to not have to tell him no, and to put it off as long as possible.


    When they made it to the atrium, she left him and went into the kitchen. Tricia was already alert and grabbing trays and filling them with mugs and bottles of wine, mead, and beer.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to get so I grabbed a bit of everything,¡± said Tricia.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine sweetie, that¡¯s perfect. You been keeping up on your cooking?¡± Razia grabbed some bottles and helped arrange them on the trays.


    Tricia made a face. ¡°Well enough. What should I cook?¡±


    ¡°Grubs and dessert, but start with grapes, figs, and oranges. Light fare to start, then bring out something savory and finish with something sweet for after they¡¯ve had their fun.¡± Razia took the tray and went back in.


    The two groups had mixed well, for the most part. Quirrinel stood apart from everyone, watching the goings on with a familiar interested expression, but everyone else had someone by their side. Just as Razia suggested, Lucy was with the woman with the long hair, giggling over something said as the woman played with Lucy¡¯s hair. The other female crew member was, surprisingly, sitting sideways in Rocco¡¯s lap, drinking from his glass. That wasn¡¯t nearly as unexpected as the stocky man with the face tattoo had his tongue halfway down Cullen¡¯s throat. The others paired up with roughly who Razia imagined.


    Razia wove her way around the room, stopping to let everyone grab their drinks, ever mindful of Rex¡¯s eyes on her as she checked in with each pair. Most were content to talk at first, some of the mercs telling outlandish stories while their captive audience made all the right sounds to show they were captivated. Others, like Kelli, were already being kissed and fondled out in the open. The Garden had never devolved into an open orgy before, but Razia wouldn¡¯t put it past this group.


    Just as her tray was empty, the door to Samantha¡¯s room opened and Samantha¡¯s client walked out. Everyone turned to him and he froze. Slowly, as if afraid to startle them, he shuffled off to the side and then out the front door. Samantha came out, looking around at a room that was a lot fuller than she remembered. ¡°Hey there,¡± she called out, catching on. ¡°Is it a party?¡±


    That got her a cheer as the mercenary crew lifted their drinks and made some noise, while their partners were only fractions of a second behind them to celebrate. Samantha met Razia¡¯s eyes, following a jerk of the head over to Rex. The redhead draped herself over the man, who finally tore his gaze away from Razia. Maybe Samantha could knock a round or two out until he was too tired to want more.


    Tricia came out with a platter full of snacks. She wove in and out of pairings, stopping to lay out trays on the various tables. As she passed one of the mercenaries looked away from Lynne long enough to notice Tricia. He pinched her ass as she passed, making her jump and whirl around on him. Razia was moving before she realized it, closing the distance and grabbing the man by his short beard.


    ¡°None of that,¡± she said sweetly, tugging harder. ¡°Any of our adults are available. Tricia here¡¯s off limits.¡± Razia released him. From the corner of her eyes she saw David put his hand on his weapon but stayed by the wall for now. He had enough sense to wait until he was needed, at least.


    The mercenary didn¡¯t know whether to be surprised, upset, or go along with it. His eyes narrowed at her, and Razia could practically feel the growl rise in his throat before she heard it. Lynne jumped in, grabbing his hand and placing it under her shirt. Slowly, the merc¡¯s eyes slid off Razia and back to Lynne. Shrugging, he went for it, leaving Razia to hurry Tricia out of the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Tricia said, breathing a little hard when they were back in the kitchen. ¡°So, grubs and bread, then maybe bake something for dessert.¡±


    Razia put her hands on her shoulders and squeezed. ¡°Forget the bread and grubs, but something a little sweet for when they wear themselves out would be good. For your safety, maybe you should stay in here.¡± Tricia nodded gratefully, She looked past Razia¡¯s shoulder and Razia followed her gaze. Quirrinel stood in the entryway, looking nervous.


    ¡°Are you sure I shouldn¡¯t leave?¡± he asked.


    Razia shook her head. ¡°No. You want some honesty Senior Q? They might try to bully you and Rocco, but you being here might just make them behave a little better, if it means not pissing off their leader. You¡¯re fine, I promise you. Quentin will want to see you when he gets back.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Quirrinel said, scratching the back of his head. ¡°Can I at least help? So she doesn¡¯t have to risk getting her ass grabbed,¡± he nodded towards Tricia.


    Razia took his hands in hers and squeezed. ¡°That¡¯ll be perfect, thank you. Stay on the edges and if you see empty bottles just replace them with full ones. We really appreciate it.¡±


    The genuine smile on an otherwise rough face was pure Quentin. Razia had to fight to avoid giggling at the similarities before ducking back out.


    It was about what she expected. Half of them were still talking and laughing, but the other half knew what they wanted and were going for it. Lynne joined Kelli in being topless as their men devoured their lips and necks on the couch. Samantha hung off of Rex, but he only had eyes for Razia. She ignored him for now and went over to the corridor that led to the baths.


    ¡°For anyone who wants a bit of privacy or the ultimate in relaxation, I recommend the bath as you take your time and enjoy yourselves,¡± she said after clearing her throat for attention. Tenchi and his merc slid off the couch and headed her way, as did Lucy and her woman. That stirred the rest of them well enough. Kelli led her man back to an open room, while Lynne¡¯s partner seemed content to go for it out in the open. The other remaining mercenaries didn¡¯t care, and neither did her girls. Cullen¡¯s tattooed man all but tore Cullen¡¯s pants open.


    It was silly, Razia reflected, how she expected to direct things. Everyone was doing fine enough without her guiding them. Her people knew how to work a crowd and were tough. There were several times when one of them got a little excited or rough and they¡¯d deal with it. Kelli rolled her partner over entirely, straddling him on the couch and getting more aggressive in response. Jenna responded to hands around her throat by doing the same to him, ending in them crashing against each other in a fierce kiss before she dragged him off to her room.


    That meant there was no more putting it off. Rex came up beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. ¡°They certainly didn¡¯t waste any time. How do you deal with being in the middle of all of this without being horny all night long?¡± he asked, eyes locked on the scene before them.


    ¡°Sometimes, it makes the job easier,¡± said Razia. ¡°With sex happening everywhere, it¡¯s easy to stay in the mood and perform. Sometimes it¡¯s obnoxious and you want a break. Times like this? I¡¯d say it feeds into each other. Your crew all pent up?¡± She looked up at him, tolerating the hand on her shoulder but getting no closer.


    ¡°You could say that,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Spent the last week ferreting out spies and sending them to meet the Darkstar. It¡¯s been a week of intense hunting and plucking out eyes. Difficult, delicate work that leaves a man tense afterwards.¡± His hand trailed down her back, stopping just shy of her ass.


    ¡°Piro¡¯s spies?¡± Razia asked, equal parts pleased and irritated. It was good to get rid of the spies, but bad that he had a legitimate reason to expect gratitude from her. It truly was irritating that her hands were bound.


    ¡°Mm.¡± He gripped her hip and pulled her closer to him, walking the fine line between assertive and respectful. ¡°Cicero decided it was time for a purge. We went for some known agents, and used them to dig deeper. We found someone near here, even. All of this to say,¡± Rex chuckled, leaning down closer to her, ¡°is that we¡¯re holding up our end of things. And I¡¯ve been looking forward to the perks of a new partnership.¡± He pressed his lips where her neck met her shoulder.


    Razia shuddered. This was bad. She had trouble seeing any outcome where this ended well. The path of least resistance was to go along with it and beg forgiveness from Quentin after. She couldn¡¯t do that. Not again. But how could she refuse? What happened when he took it poorly and decided to punish them all for it?


    She reached up and cupped the back of his head, pressing him deeper into her neck. ¡°Then you¡¯ve given me plenty of reasons to be grateful, Rex,¡± she said, letting out a ghost of a groan. ¡°I wonder if you have what it takes to fully appreciate my gratitude.¡±


    Rex stiffened. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    Razia laughed, moving closer until she was against his crotch and she felt his growing erection pressed up against her ass. She pushed against him, making him groan. ¡°What I mean is that you Orchrisans are all about fast and furious pleasure, no hesitation or patience. In the Archipelago, we do things a little differently. We draw things out, really explore that line where agony becomes ecstasy¡­¡±


    Rex¡¯s other hand went to her hip. He grabbed her by the waist as they ground together. Razia felt her way through it, moving against him and pulling away when he tried to thrust back. He let out a frustrated groan. ¡°I think I understand what you mean¡­¡± He licked his lips. ¡°And how long do you draw it out?¡± His hands went up her body, cupping her breasts.


    She groaned, turning it into a heady, distracted laugh. ¡°Hours,¡± she whispered. ¡°If you think you can keep up with me.¡±


    His groan told her all she needed to know. Now all she had to do was waste his time.

 Chapter 83: Dick Measuring Contest

    Chapter 83: Dick Measuring Contest


    Arm in arm, Quentin and Isa spent most of the walk back silent, save for the small giggles that would escape one of them at random intervals. They left in good moods, with a faraway look in Isa¡¯s eyes. There was so much he wanted to ask her, but she was uncharacteristically silent and he wasn¡¯t about to intrude when things were as off between them as they were. She seemed happy, and that was good enough for him.


    On Quentin¡¯s own part, spending time with the other pimps had been surprisingly inoffensive, ignoring Aziz¡¯s very existence. Raquel was a firebrand that was impossible to dislike, even when she pushed past his comforts. Maybe he had a type. Henry was a dismissive, ornery old bastard but there was a dignity there Quentin envied. Aziz had a smug face, but Quentin managed to take his shards when they played, and even though Raquel won those same shards off Quentin, it was enough to take from a slaver. He left the palace appreciating Mr. Cicero for arranging this chance to network.


    Now that the neighborhood was in sight, Quentin had to break his silence. ¡°Well? What was it like? What did you do?¡± He stopped them, turning to face Isa.


    Isa¡¯s normal smile was something sly and just a little smug. Like someone who was perpetually in on a joke you weren¡¯t, and it was at your expense. Now, she had a shit eating grin and was practically bouncing in place. ¡°You know, I really shouldn¡¯t say,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°I did promise my discretion, and you wouldn¡¯t want to make me a liar would you?¡±


    Quentin knew her game. He shrugged, doing his best to look disinterested. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. But if you think about it, I¡¯m the only one you can tell without being indiscreet. Tell anyone else, like say Lucy, and you¡¯d be breaking that promise.¡±


    She shot him an incredulous look. ¡°LIke you¡¯re not going to tell Razia about tonight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he said, smirking. ¡°She¡¯ll know where we went and nothing else. I¡¯m starting to understand the fun of teasing and denial, and this will be perfect.¡±


    Her smile dropped, and for a second Quentin wondered if he went too far. She stared at him intently for a short eternity with an expression he couldn¡¯t read. Then she just shook her head, chuckling. ¡°Razia¡¯s torment is a strong case. Alright, fine. I won¡¯t give you any specifics, as that was between the princess and myself,¡± Isa was more than pleased with herself. ¡°But let¡¯s just say that I consider what we did to be a small down payment on reparations owed to Ramali everywhere.¡±


    Quentin burst out laughing, grateful that no one else was around at this hour. ¡°Then I¡¯m pleased to be a part of that reparations effort. May this be the first of many until you all have justice.¡±


    She smirked but again looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. ¡°You don¡¯t mean that, do you? I¡¯m sure my people don¡¯t care much for you.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t, usually. There are two Ramali I know who like me well enough. Three if I count you,¡± he added.


    ¡°It depends on the day,¡± Isa said loftily.


    ¡°Right. But even with the rest of your people thinking I¡¯m cursed and unclean, this land was yours before my people took it. You all got the shit end of the deal. So honestly, good for you.¡± He shrugged again. This took an oddly serious turn, but it was better than Isa shitting on him. ¡°I¡¯ll have to assume you showed her enough contempt and depravity for everyone who couldn¡¯t. Well done, Isa.¡±


    She bowed her head and accepted the compliment gracefully. Then they were back on their way to the house, no longer laughing but still smiling. For as odd as the start of the evening had been, it turned out well and Quentin found himself in a good mood. That lasted until they got back to the Garden and he saw the look on Jonas¡¯ face.


    ¡°Something happened,¡± he said. Then realizing how bad that sounded he quickly added, ¡°no one¡¯s hurt, but some men showed up and demanded the entire Garden for themselves.¡±


    Quentin sobered up immediately. He took his arm back from Isa and drew himself up. ¡°Who? What¡¯s going on, then?¡±


    Jonas looked down, face reddening. ¡°They came in, said they were sent here by Cicero and that it was on us to provide them with entertainment. Razia had me check all their weapons and let them in and they¡¯ve been at it for a couple hours now.¡± He ran his good hand through his messy blonde hair. ¡°As far as I know they¡¯ve been behaving themselves, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Quentin, nodding gratefully at him. ¡°Thanks for the heads up, Jonas. I¡¯ll tread carefully. You should probably wait here,¡± he said to Isa.


    ¡°Like hell I am,¡± she scoffed.


    He shouldn¡¯t have expected any different. Shrugging, Quentin moved past Jonas, patting his shoulder as he made his way into the Garden. As soon as they were inside he heard the familiar sounds of sex and laughter. Lynne was there on that side of the villa, bent over a stone bench and getting it from a lean, wiry man who was too into it to notice them pass by. Lynne met his eyes with a crooked smile before he moved on.


    Moans came from the bathroom, so he assumed the tub was seeing good use. The main room had Kelli riding a merc on the couch, Cullen and a rough looking man were cuddling on the floor, and one of their regulars sat in Quentin¡¯s throne with an unfamiliar woman in his lap. All in all, things could¡¯ve been a great deal worse than this, but no one sat in Quentin¡¯s chair but him. As silly as it was, he left Isa behind and went right to Rocco.


    ¡°You seem to be lost,¡± Quentin said, putting on his best scary smile.


    Rocco was unphased. ¡°Mr. Q, you sexy son of a bitch! We were wondering if you¡¯d show up to the party. And you brought more girl. Singular. Hi Isa!¡± he waved brightly at her. Isa sighed and shook her head.


    ¡°So you¡¯re the guy who owns this place?¡± the woman in Rocco¡¯s lap asked. She had short, spiky blonde hair and a septum ring. Her smile was at least as sloppy and pleased as Rocco¡¯s. ¡°Your selection is choice.¡± She leaned over and nipped at Rocco¡¯s neck.


    ¡°He¡¯s not one of ours,¡± said Quentin, sighing. Looking around he added, ¡°He¡¯s the only person in here who isn¡¯t one¡­of¡­Dad?¡± His face screwed up. Right next to the kitchen was his father, leaning against the wall and watching the goings on with an intent expression. Upon noticing Quentin he jolted back to the present.


    ¡°Hey. Looks like I picked a hell of a night to visit, huh?¡± He jerked his head over his way.


    Quentin left the revelers to their activities. Isa stayed behind, taking the bottle from Rocco and planting herself in the one empty space on the couches, ignoring the couple writhing together beside her. She toasted Quentin as he passed by and he chuckled, shaking his head. Maybe things would be alright between them after all.


    ¡°So, uh. Welcome to my place,¡± Quentin said, leaning against the wall. He made eye contact with David, leaning on a nearby wall and waved at him. The gladiator waved back and shrugged, gesturing at the action and making a face. Quentin understood well enough. ¡°It¡¯s normally a lot more subdued than this, believe it or not.¡±


    Quirrinel chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse. Not my first time in a whorehouse, and even those lads and ladies that came in have been mostly well behaved. Just eager. It¡¯s been a pretty good show.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve had a good time, overall?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°Did Razia hook you up with anyone?¡±


    ¡°Naw,¡± said Quirrinel, ¡°she¡¯s been a bit busy. Once this lot came in she came in and gave a pep talk and then went out of her way to pair people up. I offered to help with running drinks while she took care of their leader.¡±


    Something about that gave Quentin pause. He looked around the room, noting and marking off each of his people. Only a few were missing, including Razia. ¡°What do you mean took care of their leader? Where is she now?¡±


    His father shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Everyone else was already paired up at that point except for her and the redhead. She took it on herself to entertain him, I guess. So you two worked something out?¡±


    Blood rushed in his head. His fathers words echoed and bounced around, trapped in Quentin¡¯s head as he fought to accept what they meant. ¡°We made an arrangement,¡± said Quentin through clenched teeth. The world had an odd buzz in the background. Everything was just a little unreal, like the dying remnants of a dream. ¡°Of exclusivity.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, uh¡­¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡± Quentin asked quietly.


    Quirinnel pointed at the master bedroom. Quentin pushed off the wall and let his feet carry him to the door. Doing his best to ignore the sounds behind him, he focused on the room itself. There was a man¡¯s laugh, muffled through the door, and nothing else. His heart hammered against his chest. Quentin didn¡¯t know how he felt, but he knew he didn¡¯t like it. His thoughts went to all the people he executed who lost their head when finding their partner with someone else. For the first time, he truly understood them.


    He opened the door and stepped inside. His heart seized. A bald mercenary lay on his belly, using his folded arms as a pillow, with Razia crouched on his back. Neither of them wore anything, and Razia had her fingers dug deep into his back. She looked up and blanched at the look on Quentin¡¯s face. The mercenary did as well, though he just scoffed and looked back down.


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± The mercenary asked. ¡°We¡¯re a bit busy right now.¡±


    ¡°So I see,¡± Quentin said.


    Razia hopped off his back and strode up to Quentin as if there was nothing wrong. She gripped the front of his toga and smiled at him. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back, Mr. Q.¡± She tugged until he bent over. He didn¡¯t know how he didn¡¯t recoil when she kissed his cheek, but he remained in place when she whispered, ¡°I gave him the runaround. I¡¯m yours.¡±


    At this point, it was either believe her and trust her, or don¡¯t. Quentin took a deep breath, thoughts racing. She was naked in a room with another man. Razia loved what she did and there was nothing wrong with what she did. But they had an agreement. It all came down to faith. Quentin let out the breath and kissed the top of her head. ¡°Talk later.¡±


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    ¡°Absolutely,¡± she agreed.


    The mercenary looked up again, scowling at them. He sat up, clearly caring as little as Razia about his nudity. He made himself comfortable and demanded, ¡°There a problem here?¡±


    ¡°None at all,¡± said Quentin with a forced smile. ¡°Razia¡¯s mine and you¡¯ve reached the limit of what she¡¯s permitted to do. You appear to be more than ready for more, so you¡¯ll have to find someone else to finish up. I recommend Samantha or Isa.¡±


    ¡°Like hell,¡± he growled, standing up, fists balled at his sides.


    ¡°Rex,¡± Razia started.


    ¡°No, I made my choice. We¡¯ve been cleaning up your fucking mess. This is the least you can do to say thank you.¡± He stalked forward. Quentin put himself between Rex and Razia. Rex sneered at them. ¡°Cicero said you were to hook us up with entertainment. Should I go back and tell him you refused?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°We made it clear to Mr. Cicero that no employee will be forced to fuck anyone they don¡¯t want to. We¡¯re not refusing Mr. Cicero, we¡¯re refusing you. You want any of our other girls, ask them. You don¡¯t like it, leave.¡±


    Rex twisted his head around until his neck popped. He looked seconds away from violence but he held himself back, breathing hard. There was a familiar hate in his eyes, the kind of entitled arrogance that only came from a person being told no. Quentin understood why Razia didn¡¯t just reject him. ¡°And who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you could stop me if I chose to take what I wanted?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Quentin said without hesitation. ¡°Easily. You and your men outnumber us. We might lose, but you wouldn¡¯t survive the attempt. You¡¯re not going to get what you want. You might as well get over it and accept it. It¡¯s not too late to have a pleasant evening.¡±


    Quentin realized his mistake. Men like Rex didn¡¯t like hearing no, and they sure as hell didn¡¯t care to be belittled or warned. His jaw set, and Quentin saw anger rise and build momentum. Quentin wanted to deal with this without violence and without the risk of pissing off Mr. Cicero. Maybe that wasn¡¯t possible. Once again, the options were clear to him: try to talk him down and avoid violence¡­Or try to beat the man into submission. To show him Quentin was the one with the power.


    There were times in this job when Quentin knew he had to embrace his intimidating nature to get what he wanted. Most of the time it was an act from a man avoiding violence unless there was no choice. For the first time since he¡¯d broken Darriq¡¯s arm in the Twilight Dancer, Quentin thought about the value of proactive violence. He thought of his reputation, and he thought of power itself. It had never been something Quentin found attractive, but now he saw the necessity of reaching out to grasp it and make it his.


    ¡°You really want to fuck my woman?¡± Quentin demanded, not needing to force the heat into his words. ¡°You think you¡¯re a big man, coming around and demanding what you want? You can have her on one condition.¡±


    The surprise on Razia¡¯s face almost ruined it. Quentin had to keep from laughing at her flinch. He kept his customary scowl on his face, but under the surface he was all but dancing. Things were about to turn violent, and if he did it right no one would be harmed.


    ¡°And what¡¯s that, Mr. Q?¡± Rex asked, eyes flitting over to Razia and raking over her body. The only reprieve from the outrage was the hunger piercing through.


    ¡°You want to prove you¡¯re a bigger, stronger man? Then take me on in front of your men. Loser limps away to lick their wounds, winner gets Razia.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Razia looked like she didn¡¯t know whether to be pleased or offended.


    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± said Rex, smile splitting his face. To Razia he said, ¡°When I win, we¡¯re going to have a little chat about wasting my time.¡± He pushed past Quentin and left the room, still naked.


    ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Razia hissed.


    ¡°What¡¯re you worried about?¡± said Quentin with a small smile. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m going to lose?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that! I just never expected you to be willing to gamble my body away.¡± She crossed her arms over her bare chest. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how I feel about it.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s words surprised himself. ¡°Until fall I have your contract, right?¡± He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for that contract, would you have had any issues fucking him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razia answered.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡± He smirked. ¡°He¡¯s not going to win. I am. And then I¡¯m going to spend the rest of the night enjoying my prize.¡±


    Razia shuddered, but she was pleased. ¡°I think I¡¯m a corrupting influence.¡±


    ¡°You are.¡± Quentin leaned down and kissed her. Together they left the bedroom. All activities in the atrium had stopped in favor of the upcoming fight. As they arrived the girls and the mercs were finishing up pulling the couches and loveseats away from the atrium, leaving just the plush rug. Rex stood there with his hands on his hips, proudly awaiting him.


    ¡°This ugly motherfucker challenged me,¡± he called out to his crew, who let out a bunch of boos. ¡°He told me he could beat me in a fight. That we¡¯d fail against him. What do you think of that?¡±


    All eyes turned to Quentin. Their jeers and insults poured out and over each other, too many to hear anything but a wall of sound. His heart pounded and he turned his scowl on them all, drawing himself up to his full height and doing his best to radiate strength and vague menace. ¡°I didn¡¯t challenge you,¡± Quentin said, spreading his arms. ¡°That would imply I consider you a challenge. I called you out.¡±


    His own crew backed him up, letting out cheers, though they remained with their dates. His father shook his head at him, laughing as if he couldn¡¯t believe what was going on. It wasn¡¯t unapproving at least. Beside Quentin, Razia squeezed him one last time before joining the ring. Quentin stepped forward, on the other side of the rug. ¡°What¡¯ll it be then?¡±


    Rex made a show of stretching and rolling his head along his shoulders. ¡°Wrestling. Shed the clothes, Quintius, and let¡¯s see what you¡¯re made of.¡±


    Quentin blinked. There were just under twenty people in the room there, all watching him intently. Waiting for him to get naked. In front of a crowd. He swallowed hard. Rex smirked, waiting patiently on the other end. Under twenty people, but more than enough to laugh at him, to point and laugh while he was dragged through


    He breathed in and out. Quentin wasn¡¯t a child anymore. He wasn¡¯t a victim, he was in control. He¡¯d issued a challenge and received one in turn. It wasn¡¯t about how he looked naked, it was about having the confidence to expose himself in front of everyone, to be on an equal level with the confident mercenary. Gods, this was cruel.


    He shrugged off his golden toga. Razia collected it from him and stored it on his chair. His father turned right around and disappeared into the kitchen. He was grateful for that. With his hands trembling he pulled the tunic up and off of him, then pulled off each boot, one by one. All that remained was the wrap around his privates. This was stupid. It was his own fault. One tug later and it fell to the ground.


    Quentin was naked in a group. His heart worked overtime, screaming at him to run and escape the situation. His flesh crawled. It wasn¡¯t the jeering mercenaries that made him uncomfortable. It was all the people he knew, seeing him naked and knowing he¡¯d have to face them afterward. He kept his eyes forward, refusing to look at any of them. ¡°Ready when you are,¡± he said, bowing.


    Rex dropped into crouch, hands ready as he approached Quentin. Quentin adopted a similar pose and they fell in pace, circling each other in the center of the rug. It was hard to focus when he could feel every bounce when he moved. Was that Isa staring right at his cock? Why would she -- Rex launched himself forward and speared him in the middle. Quentin braced himself and wavered in place, holding Rex there without falling over.


    The two men struggled, Rex fought to break Quentin¡¯s stance, and Quentin twisted and pulled on his opponent. Quentin had size on his opponent, but Rex had the better leverage. He shoved forward and Quentin fell back a step, wrapping his arms around the mercenary¡¯s sides. It took all his strength but Quentin pulled and lifted Rex upside down. There was a second of surprise flailing, and then Quentin slammed him into the ground.


    Rex landed flat on his back, a wave passing through his body outward as he crashed hard. Quentin wasted no time in extending his elbow and dropping to the ground, but Rex had just enough time to roll out of the way. Then it was Quentin¡¯s turn to be grabbed as Rex launched himself on his back and pulled Quentin¡¯s arms backwards. He drove Quentin¡¯s face against the fur.


    A cheer went up through the mercenaries. Gods, was that his cock up against Quentin¡¯s ass? Quentin thrashed against him, rolling them over until Rex was on his back. He raised up enough to slam back, tearing an arm free and elbowing Rex in the ribs. They rolled again and when they came back up Quentin had him in a headlock. His girls screamed and clapped. Rex elbowed him in the ribs, and again and again.


    The first hit hurt, the second loosened his grip, and the third knocked him off. Rex twisted until he had an arm and a leg and Quentin bending backwards until his spine protested and he let out a strangled cry. The room held its breath as Rex pulled harder, all but demanding Quentin surrender. It wasn¡¯t going to happen. He caught Razia¡¯s eye. She winked at him. Quentin pulled hard on his arm. Rex¡¯s grip tightened painfully around his wrist. Quentin shifted and put his entire body into it. Letting out a cry he ripped his arm free and twisted around and crashed into his opponent.


    He was a good opponent, Quentin reflected as his arm screamed with heightened pain as he healed the tears out of his tendons. He was fast, decisive, and strong. But Quentin was stronger, and he could push himself further. Quentin had something to prove. He let out a roar and climbed to his feet, lifting Rex with him. The man thrashed but couldn¡¯t escape his grasp as Quentin lifted him high into the air. Then the fighting stopped altogether as he braced himself for the impact.


    The entire room held its breath as Quentin stood there, ready to destroy his opponent. It would¡¯ve been easy to break him, or to take an extra step and hurl him into the pool. That would be a way to demoralize him. But as much of a prick as he was being, Rex wasn¡¯t his enemy. Quentin had spent the night building bridges. Why not build one more? He twisted and deposited Rex back onto his feet.


    The mercenary stared him down, panting and trying to get a read on him. Quentin extended his hand. Rex looked at it for a second. He took it and Quentin pulled him into a brief one armed embrace. ¡°Razia¡¯s mine,¡± he whispered into his ear, ¡°But why don¡¯t you take a couple of girls back with you instead?¡±


    Rex pulled back. Some of the anger was still there, but it was replaced by confusion. Quentin couldn¡¯t blame him. It was a spur of the moment decision, his gut telling him the right thing to do. He was getting better at listening to it. Why make a new enemy when he could make his point and stand down? Showing strength didn¡¯t mean being excessive about it. Nodding in new understanding, Rex flashed him a grin.


    ¡°A good match, Quintius. Fuck me, you¡¯re strong. What the hell are you doing running a house like this? We could use a man like you on the streets.¡±


    A wave of relief passed through the room. The fight was over and things were good. All eyes were still on him and while Quentin couldn¡¯t shake the constant revulsion from being exposed like this, he understood what he was doing. He was cultivating his reputation. ¡°I put my time in, same as anyone,¡± Quentin said, showing a crooked smile of his own. ¡°This is my retirement job. I¡¯m here to drink and have fun.¡± Might as well live up to the stories that spread like wildfire.


    Rex let out a low whistle and made a big show of looking around. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he said, nodding again. ¡°Might have to do something similar when I¡¯m good and ready for the easy life.¡±


    ¡°When you do, come back here and I¡¯ll show you the ropes.¡± Quentin turned from him back to Razia. He gratefully took his underwear back and put it on, followed by the tunic. The toga and boots he left off. Razia handed him a glass of wine next, reading his mind. He downed it, hoping no one noticed the way his hands shook.


    After that, things went back to normal. They put the couches and table back and resumed their celebration. Rex took Samantha and Lynne together and disappeared into the master bedroom. His father came out and joined Quentin and Razia at his oversized chair.


    ¡°So,¡± Quirrinel said, staring past Quentin. ¡°Was this an exciting night for you two, or¡­?¡±


    ¡°Very exciting,¡± said Razia. ¡°Way more exciting than usual.¡±


    Quentin relaxed in his seat, drinking the night in. He wore an amused smile as he released some of the tension and let himself be happy. ¡°You have no idea. If you think this was wild, wait until you hear about my night. I think we¡¯re in a good position with Cicero.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Razia draped herself across his lap. ¡°Good. Because that party is coming up soon, and we need to be ready for it. If it¡¯s anything like tonight we¡¯re going to have to stay on our toes if we want to stay on top.¡±


    Quentin shrugged and threw an arm around her. ¡°We¡¯ll be ready,¡± he said. Maybe it was overconfidence, but Quentin just couldn¡¯t find it in himself to worry. ¡°We¡¯ve got this.¡±


    ¡°You really didn¡¯t scale back on the dangerous lifestyle at all, did you Quentin?¡± his father asked.


    He smiled. ¡°I guess not.¡±

 Chapter 84: Its Party Time!

    Chapter 84: It¡¯s Party Time!


    The problem with being a spy was needing to be where the action would be, even when it would put you in danger. Kelli wasn¡¯t looking forward to tonight, but missing it would¡¯ve pissed off both sets of bosses she had, and at this point she wasn¡¯t sure which of the two pairs was scarier. Sure, Quentin and Razia were softies and tended towards indulging their employees, but Kelli knew damned well that would change if and when her true nature was revealed. Especially after tonight.


    She fingered the enchanted ring on her left hand, resisting the urge to twist the stone repeatedly. Kelli did that once without thinking about it and her handler for that week chewed her out. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hands flat on her knees and focused on not moving and just letting the beetle carriage take her further and further away from town. Away from the safety of home and into the unknown, all to play a role and record the fallout.


    ¡°Relax,¡± said Jenna beside her, nudging Kelli with her elbow. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. It won¡¯t be much different than the party earlier this week. We survived that one, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said Kelli through clenched teeth, ¡°but there were just a few of us then. Not¡­This.¡± She gestured to the cart they were in, and the three beetle carts ahead of them. ¡°I know we¡¯ll be fine, I¡¯m worried about all the gutter girls ruining things for us.¡±


    One of those gutter girls, Marigold, glared at Kelli. ¡°Worry about yourself, bitch. No way any of us are gonna fuck up this payday. You really think you¡¯re so much better than us just because you work in a big house and -- ¡°


    ¡°Nothing like that,¡± Jenna said, holding up her hands to ward off the rest of the diatribe. ¡°I think Kelli¡¯s just worried because we¡¯ve all been working together for a while now and we know how we work in a group. You¡¯re all just¡­New to us. Right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Kelli muttered, looking down. She put a smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m really bad at talking,¡± she said, ¡°everything that comes out always makes me sound like an asshole, no matter how hard I try.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Marigold didn¡¯t look convinced, but she did fall silent again. Kelli was grateful for that. The first half of the beetle ride, everyone was talking a mile a minute and laughing as the novelty of performing out of town consumed them and nervousness hadn¡¯t yet set in.


    The extra whores didn¡¯t really come as a surprise, given the size of the party. Just eight people to service a few dozen would¡¯ve been awkward and impractical. It was that bitch Isa who came up with the idea of her and Sam and a few others reaching out to the girls they used to work with to see if people were down for an upcoming job. A well paying one. All of them, the eight originals and the sixteen temporary hires, were receiving a full aquilo for their time.


    As far as Kelli could tell, this was Mr. Q¡¯s big debut as a boss to be respected and introduced to everyone else. A way for the former contract killer to interact with the movers and shakers directly instead of just being one of Cicero¡¯s many daggers in the dark. Mere grunts didn¡¯t get to meet with the leaders, and Quentin was no longer a grunt. Maybe by the end of the night he wouldn¡¯t be alive. Kelli hoped so. The sooner she could get out with her money, the better.


    The thought cheered her up some. It was easy to worry, but even easier to just sit back and abandon herself to the night. Whatever happened would happen. For now they were out of Orchrisus proper and headed towards a manor in the wild expanse of the desert. The spring night was beautiful and the night sky was brilliant with countless twinkling stars. Maybe Kelli would die tonight. Maybe Mr. Q or Razia would. Maybe no onedied and the big event she was warned about wouldn¡¯t happen. Either way, she was going to be passed around and used again and still have to keep her ears open for anything she could use against¡­Anyone on the north side, really.


    Nearly an hour from the start of their trip, the manor was visible off in the distance, a lone bastion of light and color shining in the dark. There were other manors around, but none for at least a mile. The city was still considered the best part of Orchrisus to live in when one worked for a living, but the truly wealthy had homes in the safer parts of the hostile great desert. This one was closer than most, but still far enough out to have privacy for the owner of the house, Cicero she guessed, and his staff.


    ¡°Look!¡± Jenna¡¯s outstretched finger whizzed by Kelli¡¯s face. Kelli bit back a sharp retort. ¡°We¡¯re finally almost here. Thank the gods. I¡¯ve been needing to piss for like half the trip.¡±


    ¡°Save it,¡± Marigold said with a smirk. ¡°Might be someone there who would happily be your toilet.¡±


    That got a groan from almost all the whores while Marigold just cackled. Kelli shook her head. After over a month of working the job maybe she should¡¯ve been more desensitized to the shit they¡¯d say, but some of it still made her want to gag. Worse still was knowing there were people actually into it. Kelli was, in a lot of ways, lucky. She¡¯d gotten a reputation as fairly standard, but it also meant she didn¡¯t have too many weird requests.


    As the manor got closer, everyone craned their heads to see around everyone else. A few people muttered stuff under their breath but the general consensus was to be impressed, and even a little fearful. Their whorehouse was something to be proud of, but this¡­This was like really making the big time. The only thing higher than this would be a schedule of nothing but appointments with wealthy men in their own homes. Kelli would be gone long before she got to that point.


    The walls were the same sandy color most desert dwellers used by default. The tops of the walls were a dark color Kelli guessed was red in better lighting, going all the way up to the four towers on the corner of the property. This was less one giant house and more an entire complex. Unlike most of the big buildings in Orchrisus, that was the extent of the paint and general aesthetic. It was a big, beautiful, minimalist building, and Kelli was definitely impressed.


    Their carts were ushered in the front gate by guards armed with bolters. One of them caught Kelli¡¯s eye and winked. She looked away from him and back to Jenna, who looked like a kid who was just told she could have whatever candy she wanted. The beetles lumbered in, directed by more staff to the stables, where the big beasts headed drawn by the smell of the garbage they ate. A guard undid the cart¡¯s latch and opened the back up.


    One by one the men and women in the carts were helped down, the cramped space becoming mercifully open in just moments. Kelli followed Jenna and ignored the helping hand, hopping down to the sand below. She stretched hard, continuing until her back popped and her legs screamed with relief. Three dozen of them were there in the courtyard and there was still plenty of room for more. Now that they were there, the sound picked back up, everyone buzzing with conversations overlapping so badly Kelli couldn¡¯t keep them straight, much less capture any individual voice for her own use.


    ¡°Alright everyone, listen up!¡± Razia called out, capturing their attention. By unspoken agreement people gathered around her, forming loose rows of people. Kelli hung out in the back, trying to avoid attention. Once everyone had hushed up, it was (gag) speech time.


    ¡°This is the big one. I don¡¯t need to tell you how much is riding on performing well here. All of you have the ability to make or break the entire night for everyone. Even with that in mind, our first priority is to all of you. It¡¯s on all of us to be on our best behavior tonight. Sometimes that means not starting shit, sometimes that means not escalating. If any of you are in danger or hurt, you can count on us to help. Take a good look around at the new faces.¡±


    The men and women gathered there did so, some making goofy faces at one another. A few laughed nervously, but it was otherwise silent as they waited for Razia to continue. ¡°You might know each other, you might not. The important thing is remembering our gladiator friends, who are here to keep us safe. One of them will be near all major areas tonight, and will respond if you call for help.¡± Who could forget? The Garden now had gladiators hanging out every single night, even when they weren¡¯t working. More than a couple were into her.


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    ¡°That said, we need to be very careful. We¡¯ll protect you from harm, but these are dangerous people who are used to a certain level of respect and fear from people. For the love of the gods, do not provoke them if you can avoid it. If you fuck it up for everyone, you¡¯ll still get paid.¡± Everyone relaxed a little after that. ¡°But you won¡¯t be offered more jobs in the future. So, keep it all in mind as you perform tonight. Be safe, be strong, be friendly, and be fun. Any questions?¡±


    Samantha raised her hand, waving it wildly in the air. ¡°What¡¯re the food and drinks situation? I didn¡¯t eat earlier in case someone wants some backdoor action,¡± that earned her a few laughs and murmurs of agreement, ¡°but if we¡¯re going to be working all night long¡­¡±


    Razia shook her head, chuckling. ¡°Unlike the other night, I expect things to be more¡­Drawn out. You¡¯ll probably have a chance to graze throughout the night, and there will definitely be lulls where you can take a break before finding a new lap to sit in. Anyone else?¡±


    An unfamiliar face called out, ¡°And when do we get paid the second half of our fee?¡±


    ¡°When we get back for the night,¡± Razia said with forced patience. ¡°I¡¯m grateful for each of you that came tonight and didn¡¯t just run off with the shards. Expect to be here for six hours or so, then another hour back. An aquilo for eight hours of your time doesn¡¯t seem so bad, does it?¡±


    That earned her a cheer through the crowd. The gutter girls and guys were the ones most enthused by it. Some of the Garden girls could easily clear that on a good night. Some of them were bad about rubbing it in others¡¯ faces and making everyone else feel bad for -- gods, was Kelli actually getting jealous of Samantha? She shook her head.


    ¡°With that out of the way, head on in, look around, don¡¯t go anywhere you¡¯re not supposed to, and make sure you¡¯re ready to perform.¡± Razia looked around the crowd. The bitch looked excited and even thrilled to be there. She raised her hands and called out, ¡°Party on, bitches!¡±


    The answering cry pierced Kelli¡¯s eardrum. The worst part is she had to join in and pretend to be just as enthused as everyone else. It was getting harder and harder to keep that front up. Everyone poured past Razia, heading into the main building. Kelli was almost one of them, but before she could move past, Razia put her hand on Kelli¡¯s chest. ¡°Not you,¡± she said. ¡°We need to have a talk.¡±


    Kelli¡¯s blood turned to ice. She nodded, stepping to the side and letting the others move past her. Jenna paused, but Kelli shooed her away, mouthing that she¡¯d catch up. Reluctantly, Jenna left and soon the gladiators followed until it was only Razia, Kelli, and the manor¡¯s guards. It was easy not to panic. Panicking was a rookie mistake. There was no telling what Razia wanted to speak to her about.


    ¡°I know who you are,¡± Razia said. ¡°And I know what you are.¡±


    Well, shit. Kelli swallowed and focused on her breathing. Only rookies panicked only rookies panicked only rookies --


    ¡°And what¡¯s that, Razia?¡± Kelli tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. That just made the islander whore smile wider.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play stupid. You¡¯re not very good at what you do, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± Razia moved past Kelli and circled around her slowly. Kelli wanted to scream. It was such an obnoxious power move. How long had the bitch been waiting to confront her and torment her like this? ¡°You spent the first few weeks you were around asking every question you could. Not very subtle. You befriended half the girls and alienated the other half. You know, instead of either keeping a low profile or trying to be everyone¡¯s friend.¡±


    ¡°Look, you try being a friend to Isa,¡± Kelli shot back, not caring that her cover was blown. She wondered who would be the one to kill her. Would it be one of their new gladiator guards? Would it be one of Cicero¡¯s men, or would Mr. Q himself kill her? She had trouble picturing him turning on any of his girls, but she wasn¡¯t. ¡°This gig was crap anyway.¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t even deny it?¡± Razia shook her head, tutting. ¡°I¡¯d think you¡¯d want to pretend a little bit longer at least.¡±


    ¡°Is there even a point?¡± Kelli sighed. ¡°You caught me. Do what you gotta do.¡± She closed her eyes. Maybe they¡¯d surprise her and kill her faster than she could register it.


    ¡°I want to make you a deal,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°What?¡± Kelli¡¯s eyes shot open.


    ¡°I want to make you a deal,¡± she said louder, continuing to circle Kelli. ¡°See, I don¡¯t care that you¡¯re a spy. It¡¯s annoying, but do you really think I expected any different? There was no way in hell Mr. Cicero was going to let us go without a pair of eyes watching us.¡±


    Oh. OH. Oh gods, this was perfect. This was too perfect. Kelli lowered her head, partially to look ashamed and partially to hide the crack in her facade. She wanted to cry, she needed to laugh. Kelli did neither. ¡°If it helps, I wish it hadn¡¯t been me too,¡± Kelli admitted. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have been me, if it wasn¡¯t for my unique ability.¡±


    Razia stopped in front of her. ¡°What unique ability?¡±


    Sighing, Kelli opened her mouth and Razia¡¯s voice came out of it. ¡°What unique ability?¡± It wasn¡¯t like speaking for real. Most people who heard her didn¡¯t understand that. She opened her mouth and the stored words came out perfectly, better even than she remembered it. When she spoke next it was speaking. It took way more effort to speak than to just let the words out. ¡°I¡¯m a savant. He put me here to spy on the clients, mostly. But also you.¡±


    As much as Kelli disliked the islander, she couldn¡¯t deny Razia was usually cheery and all smiles. There was none of that now, just that look of realization at how much damage she could actually do if she tried. Kelli found herself afraid of the look in Razia¡¯s eyes. Like she wanted to strangle her and scream.


    ¡°So that night when Quentin and I were speaking in the bathroom,¡± said Razia, voice low and dangerous, ¡°what exactly did you hear?¡±


    The best lies were ones hidden within truths. Maybe Kelli didn¡¯t have the temperament to be a proper spy. That didn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t pick things up along the way, and the number one way to succeed was to only lie when you had to. So she opened her mouth and Quentin¡¯s voice came out. ¡°And whether you like it or not, three days from now I¡¯m leaving for the night and I¡¯m going to murder a child.¡±


    They fell silent there. By now they were starting to attract looks from the guards remaining in the courtyard and up on the walls, but they were too far away to be heard, speaking in hushed tones as they were. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear much more than that. Just that Cicero was going to have Mr. Q kill a child.¡±


    Razia stared at her, covering her mouth with her hand. She took a long, deep breath and let it out. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Okay. Here¡¯s the deal. You go in there, you do what you have to do. Listen in on conversations, fuck anyone who asks, report in after, whatever. But from here on out, know that I¡¯ve got my eye on you and there are some lines you won¡¯t cross. You will stay the fuck away from Quentin no matter what. Do you understand me?¡±


    Kelli was surprised by the vehemence and venom. ¡°Okay, fine, yeah, I can do that,¡± she said.


    Nodding, Razia continued, ¡°You will not get close to Quentin or speak to him unless he speaks to you first. Whatever Cicero wants to know about him, he¡¯s got plenty of other sources. You don¡¯t have to stay away from me, but we both know I¡¯m not going to let anything slip in front of you now. So long as Cicero desires a spy among us, I¡¯ll tolerate you. But if you get any of the others hurt, you will not survive it. Am I clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kelli said, deflating. ¡°I understand. Look, I don¡¯t want to be here either. Maybe with some luck Mr. Cicero will reassign me. Not like I enjoy laying on back and counting ceiling tiles while some fat fuck uses me.¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Razia said, smiling. ¡°You will no longer be getting paid to work for us. Cicero¡¯s already paying you, right? No need for you to double dip any longer. Now, get inside and get to work. Embarrass us and I¡¯ll embarrass you in front of Cicero.¡± Without waiting for a response, Razia turned and walked away.


    On the one hand, her cover was almost blown. That wasn¡¯t great, and Christophe and Piro wouldn¡¯t be happy with her slipup, but maybe they¡¯d appreciate her keeping her cool and throwing some of the scent off her. She knew for a fact Razia wouldn¡¯t throw her out so long as she thought she was Cicero¡¯s spy, but not getting paid would¡­Oh boy, the Warlords wouldn¡¯t like it when she begged for more money. Maybe they¡¯d even be inclined to give it to her, knowing her position was secure.


    Kelli looked up into the night sky. The moon hung there half full, like a giant eye watching her. Maybe Piro and Christophe would get what they came for tonight, maybe not. But Kelli, at least, was safe. Sighing, she went inside and to another night of being pawed at.

 Chapter 85: The Criminal Cabal

    Chapter 85: The Criminal Cabal


    Quentin was waiting for Razia just inside the manor. His eyes darted around the place nervously, but other than that he was keeping it together well. This talk had been a long time coming, and when Razia met him, he just raised his eyebrow questioningly. ¡°She heard about the child,¡± Razia said delicately. ¡°And that it was Cicero who told you to do it.¡±


    His eyes darkened at the reminder of what may have been the worst thing he¡¯d ever done. The only thing keeping him from thinking about it was how busy he¡¯d been. ¡°So it¡¯s what you thought, then. How are we going to handle this?¡±


    Razia put her hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly. ¡°Leave that to me. For now, she¡¯s harmless. You confident about playing the part tonight? There¡¯s going to be a lot of people here, and it might be hard to be consistent.¡±


    ¡°No. I mean, yes, I¡¯m confident. No, it won¡¯t be too hard. I think.¡± Quentin grimaced, and Razia just laughed, hugging him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this, Mr. Q. Just take a deep breath and remind yourself that you¡¯ve already got a spicy reputation. When in doubt, be mysterious. Give me your best scary smile.¡±


    Quentin looked down at her and smiled. It didn¡¯t reach his eyes. Instead, it made him look like he was seconds away from violence, or at the very least considering it. Razia let out a theatrical shudder. ¡°There it is. Be polite, be scary, and show no weakness. You ready?¡±


    He offered up his arm. She took it, and together they crossed the foyer and went deeper into the manor. Music greeted them long before they reached the ballroom, notes just barely on the edge of hearing. Lamps lit the way down a hallway that opened up into the party. This was it. Razia squeezed one more time before they stepped out into the light, looking around.


    All around the two storied room were faces, both familiar and new. Razia hadn¡¯t been part of North Orchrisus for terribly long before joining up with Quentin, but it was long enough to learn all the important people and she¡¯d done her best to pass her knowledge onto Quentin. Mr. Cicero sat in his usual kind of place up on the second floor, overlooking the rest of the room. Next to him was Margot Thresher, the go-to evidence disposal expert. She owned a beetle ranch on the eastern outskirts, capable of disappearing a body in under an hour. Margot said something, a dour expression on her rough face, and Cicero laughed.


    All the major players were scattered around, largely surrounded by a court of their own people. A lanky, curly haired man sat near the band, drink in one hand and directing the music with the other. ¡°That¡¯s Fish Ghoti, master of intoxicants,¡± Razia said loud enough to be heard over the party.


    ¡°That¡¯s an actual title?¡±


    Razia laughed, clinging to him harder. ¡°Might as well be. He¡¯s the one to talk to about any good booze or drugs you want to engage in or get sold near you. Shall we go say hi?¡±


    Quentin shrugged and let her lead the way. They passed by Lynne taking a bottle from a shady looking guy. Lynne poured the bottle over her neck and laughed when he attacked her neck to get a drink. Quentin caught her eye and nodded to her. They stopped just a foot away from Fish¡¯s table, close enough to make one of his bodyguards side eye them. Razia cleared her throat. ¡°Is that you, Fish? You look like shit!¡±


    Fish¡¯s attention turned from the band to Razia. He let out a loud, halting laugh, ¡°Hurr hurr hurr,¡± that somehow managed to be more endearing than annoying. He downed his drink and stood up, towering over even Quentin. ¡°Razia you fine-ass bitch, where¡¯ve you been? There¡¯ve been too many parties that would¡¯ve been vastly improved with your presence.¡± Razia broke apart from Quentin to give Fish a hug, reaching down to pinch his ass just as he did the same to her. They parted with him squealing.


    ¡°And you must be Mr. Q,¡± he said, extending his hand. ¡°I¡¯ve heard a lot about you! Did you really fistfight an entire tavern for one of your girls?¡±


    Quentin took it and gave it a short, sharp squeeze. He wasn¡¯t out to intimidate or pick fights tonight. ¡°Only half a tavern,¡± he said, a crooked smile appearing on his face before his eyes scanned the room. ¡°Whole place would¡¯ve given me trouble.¡±


    There was more of that loud, chesty laughter. Fish¡¯s chin beard was just as curly as the rest of his hair. ¡°I¡¯m surprised I haven¡¯t seen you before, man. I mean, starting a big new place is already a big deal, but you open a whorehouse and don¡¯t even say hi or hit me up for some drugs. What¡¯s with that, Q my man? Whores and drugs go together like¡­like whores and drugs!¡±


    This was exactly what they¡¯d rehearsed. Quentin shrugged, cocking his head to the side. ¡°If we were to start offering up some of your products, then I fear customers might start caring more about it than our boys and girls.¡± No need to tell Fish they strictly forbade their people from doing anything harder than dream-weed while working there.


    Fish nodded enthusiastically. ¡°No doubt, no doubt. Nothing keeps you coming back like a good buzz, right? Heh heh heh! Your girls might be close. Gonna have to find out. Got any recommendations?¡± He craned his head around theatrically, smacking his lips.


    ¡°Samantha,¡± said Quentin, pointing across the room where Samantha had a number of men trying to get her attention. She practically had her own little court to herself and she wasn¡¯t even a VIP. ¡°Though you might have to get in line. If you¡¯re not into nasty nineteenths, Kelli might be the type to indulge in whatever you want to give her.¡±


    Razia bit her lip to avoid laughing. Oh, they were going to make her life miserable before her time as a spy was done. That¡¯d show her for thinking she could keep on like this. ¡°I agree,¡± she said, forcing a serious expression on her face. ¡°She¡¯s short, fat bottomed, and a sucker for stimulants if you¡¯ve got any.¡±


    The druglord¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Have I ever! We¡¯ve got Dust, Crackers, Shakeup, and shit, we¡¯ve even got Mama¡¯s Milk. You want any?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good, but thanks,¡± Quentin said, fighting to keep his expression straight. For all the killing and opening a house of vice, Quentin wasn¡¯t too fond of anything more than alcohol. He knew it was a him problem, but he¡¯d seen what happened when people overindulged and did things they later regretted. Razia had been trying to get him to try dream-weed to relax, but he wasn¡¯t quite ready.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to make the rounds, but we had to stop in and pay our respects,¡± said Razia, bowing her head.


    ¡°Yeah, sure. Come by later and I¡¯ve got a present for you, heh heh heh!¡±


    Quentin waited until they were out of earshot before he said, ¡°So why do we need to know him specifically?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Razia answered, looking around the room for their next target. ¡°But he¡¯s in good with just about everyone. You don¡¯t want to be the one person not on good terms with him. Think of what a red flag that would be. And honestly, we could probably do with adding some dream-weed to the Garden. The clients would love it.¡±


    He grunted but didn¡¯t answer. It was a start, and she¡¯d work on him later. For now, they continued their circuit around the room. The ballroom was like the rest of the manor from what Quentin gathered, comfortable but minimalist. There was enough furniture to look lived in and be comfortable for guests, but the art on the walls was abstract in nature, chosen for complementary colors and shapes rather than any statements.


    The same couldn¡¯t be said for the rest of the criminals of North Orchrisus. Brody ¡°Bones¡± Ashford was a sour-faced loan shark who owned a gambling house. He barely looked at Quentin when introduced and waved him off soon after. Quentin looked like he wanted to be offended, but settled on apathetic and they moved on, over to where Razia was confronted by a familiar face.


    ¡°You!¡± He was a short, rat-like man with a permanent sneer.


    ¡°Me,¡± said Razia, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s been a while¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ren! Big Ren!¡± he seethed. Razia made a noise of understanding. ¡°You told Benny I stole his rugs and he came after me!¡±


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    ¡°What?¡± Quentin looked lost.


    ¡°Silk Room,¡± Razia said. ¡°Yeah, sorry about that Ren, that¡¯s what Otho told me. He was drunk off power that night and we were drinking, and you know how he got. How IS Otho doing these days? You still keep in touch?¡± She kept the words coming out faster and kept a smile on her face, like nothing was wrong.


    ¡°He skipped town,¡± said Big Ren, scowling. ¡°Was afraid of getting his fat ass shanked. Surprised you didn¡¯t do the same. Gimme one good reason why I shouldn¡¯t shank you right now.¡±


    Well, that was his cue. Quentin stood in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest. Big Ren was maybe a third of his size and, as far as Quentin knew, just a thief. He exhaled, letting it come out as something like a growl. ¡°Try it.¡±


    Big Ren thought again, and raised his hands. ¡°You know, that was such a long time ago, who can keep the details straight?¡±


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± said Razia in a rare moment of genuine contrition, ¡°I really didn¡¯t mean for you to get hurt. Otho had it coming to him though.¡± Big Ren just shrugged, so they left him behind.


    After Big Ren was Mouse, which led Quentin to believe that criminals were very fond of ironic names. Mouse was also taller than Quentin, and unlike Fish, built for violence. He had a big septum piercing and Quentin had to resist asking him if boogers got caught on it. Surprisingly, he greeted them warmly. ¡°Oh yeah, you¡¯re the people of the hour, right? You got some nice girls with you,¡± he said, letting out a low whistle. ¡°Are those guys with you too?¡± He nodded over to where Bruce leaned against a wall, keeping an eye out on Lucy and Jenna in particular.


    ¡°They are,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Old buddies of mine, decided to help out with a bit of security. Too many people get worked up and can¡¯t let it out¡­constructively.¡±


    Mouse grunted in agreement. ¡°Yeah, pack of vicious jackals the moment you show your belly. You¡¯re probably the first pimp I¡¯ve seen with his own gang though. Good on you. It¡¯ll make it easier to keep Piro¡¯s unwelcome ass out.¡±


    While that was welcome to hear, it was the remark about a gang that gave Quentin pause. All he wanted were some guards to help keep things from getting out of hand. Only a couple weeks had passed since Demetrius¡¯ wake, and most of the gladiators only grew more gung ho the more time they spent around the garden. For the first time in his life, Quentin really got to socialize with them without the Butcher¡¯s skull mask coming between them, but there was no way they were a gang, let alone his gang.


    ¡°What¡¯s your taste, Mouse?¡± Razia asked, looking around the room. ¡°You¡¯re entirely too much man to be alone. We might need to get you a couple of girls or guys to keep you company.¡±


    The enforcer grinned, revealing a couple missing teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll take whatever I can get, but maybe a bit later. It¡¯s supposed to be my job to make sure the children behave themselves.¡± He laughed, a harsh bark that had Quentin joining in.


    ¡°How are you doing so far?¡± Razia asked as they ducked into a quiet-ish corner.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing,¡± he said. There were still so many people to meet, but Quentin finally believed it wouldn¡¯t be so bad. His reputation really had come a long way. ¡°If the night ends without me needing to knock someone¡¯s teeth out I¡¯ll be surprised, but so far everyone seems either positive or neutral.¡± Off in the distance one of his boys peeled someone off one of their temp hires. He shook his head and dropped the man on the floor. ¡°So far. I feel like I should check up on my boys and see how they¡¯re doing.¡±


    Razia made a sound of appreciation. ¡°I¡¯ll trust your judgment, Mr, Q. You¡¯re doing well, and tonight¡¯s going to be fine. You check on them and I¡¯ll go have a brief chat with Mr. Cicero. Sound good?¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°Sounds good.¡± On a lark he leaned over, Razia met him halfway with a quick, casual kiss that still soothed the worst of his worries and tension. She drew back slowly, not releasing his hand until she had to. He watched her go with a smile, knowing he probably looked like a sap. Not like there was anyone watching him closely.


    With Razia gone, Quentin felt oddly naked, though that comparison didn¡¯t feel right anymore since the wrestling match. He was in foreign territory and was on his own, but Quentin was no longer the bitter shut-in he¡¯d been. It was time to branch out and take charge more and more, without his partner in crime whispering words of wisdom and encouragement. So Quentin went and checked on his gang.


    ¡°Any trouble, Jonas?¡± he asked, sidling up to the young gladiator. Quentin mimicked his pose on the wall, looking out on the growing party. Things were still fairly tame, but Fish had one of their temps on the dance floor, moving to a rhythm only he could hear.


    Jonas shook his head, snickering. ¡°Naw. Only had to tell this guy once. This is some kind of party. This going to be a regular thing with you now?¡±


    Gods, was it? Quentin let out a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It might be. Things are changing so fast, it¡¯s hard to keep up with it all. How about you and the others? You¡­shit, having a good time feels like the wrong way to word it.¡±


    He just laughed. ¡°I get what you mean. It¡¯s exciting, brother. David¡¯s a little twitchy around so many people ready for a scrap, but Peter¡¯s got him on a short leash and teaching him how to do more with less. Hard to tell these maggots that the goal is to avoid fights, but they understand.¡±


    That might¡¯ve been one of the only things that made the night work. After speaking with Cicero about the logistics, Quentin and his gladiators were armed, as were Cicero¡¯s men, and the majority of the partygoers had a token honor guard but otherwise were on their best behavior. Parties like this wouldn¡¯t work if a bunch of volatile, egocentric thugs had blades on them. Maybe this would be fine after all.


    ¡°Good. Once we get this party over we can focus on diplomatic talks with Piro and stop that from getting worse.¡± That was the plan, anyway.


    Jonas¡¯ face darkened. It transformed his normally handsome face into something dark and even intimidating. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan for getting a pound of flesh about Demetrius? We¡¯re going to do something about that, right? We can''t just let it slide.¡±


    That was the big question. Quentin¡¯s chest tightened. They might have to do just that, unless a better opportunity came along. Of course he wanted to hurt Piro for hurting Razia and starting this entire mess, but what he heard of Christophe was worse. If it was Christophe¡¯s men who were active during the raid¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I killed the man who got Demetrius,¡± said Quentin delicately, ¡°but the person who gave the order is still out there. If it means keeping the girls safe, he might have to keep living. But,¡± he said, cutting off Jonas¡¯ angry retort before it started, ¡°I¡¯m going to do everything in my power to kill the son of a bitch, and I promise you we¡¯ll make it hurt.¡±


    Although he still looked unhappy, Jonas nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the best we can hope for, I guess. It¡¯s not like us gladiators are the type to die of old age. We¡¯re all going to get ourselves killed, but not many of us get murdered. We want blood.¡±


    ¡°And you all feel that way?¡± Quentin asked, fearing the answer. Jonas nodded. ¡°I worry about killing them causing more trouble. If you guys leave once your thirst for blood is quenched, that could be bad.¡±


    Jonas laughed, once again relaxing and looking like his usual pleasant self. ¡°I don¡¯t see people leaving. A lot of us did join because of Demetrius, but I think we¡¯re having too much fun to stop now.¡±


    That was a good sign, at least. Quentin didn¡¯t want to need the gladiators, and he definitely didn¡¯t want to use or abuse them. It was a constant juggling act now, trying to balance out what everyone wanted and needed with what he felt he needed to do. So far it wasn¡¯t too much, but there were always more balls to keep in the air as they moved forward. Gods, he really was starting to run a gang, wasn¡¯t he? And leaders had obligations to their people.


    The music stopped. Quentin didn¡¯t notice until the constant gentle murmur of the party died out. He came out from the corner where he and Jonas lurked. Mr. Cicero stood at the railing, waiting with Razia at his side. Once he had the attention of enough people he cleared his throat and spoke, his voice carrying easily through the ballroom.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to thank you all for being here tonight,¡± he said, to scattered applause. His smile turned wolfish. ¡°As if you bastards need a reason to drink my wine and eat my food.¡± Cheers all around, and even Quentin smiled.


    ¡°If only the reasons for this meeting were better. Our streets have been invaded. My good friend Mr. Q and his partner were the targets of an attack that¡¯s an insult upon us all.¡± Hundreds of eyes turned his way. Quentin swallowed and tried his best to look casual. ¡°Right as they were setting up and getting ready to join us as the masters of the city, they were attacked by a pack of Southies, sent by Piro Pentius.¡±


    It was a good opportunity for the crowd to jeer and boo. Quentin almost joined them but instead looked around, gauging for the real reactions. Razia would probably find it easy, but he mostly saw a mixture of perfunctory attention, light boredom, with only a few people actually listening and invested. The random hired swords and enforcers didn¡¯t care, but the major players did. Even Fish stood in the middle of the dance floor and stared intently.


    ¡°There¡¯s a certain amount of leeway we¡¯re all inclined to give each other. Little slights that go unanswered because it¡¯s just not worth the trouble. We¡¯re not friends here, and we¡¯re certainly not a family. What we are is an organization that sticks together and profits together. A foreign attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. Now is the time to close ranks and be prepared to give a show of strength and support because the next few days are critical. No one wants a war --¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that, Mr. Cicero,¡± said a voice from the entrance to the ballroom. The entire room turned to see a short, red haired man in garish clothes and a behemoth of a man behind him. ¡°A little war could be fun. Invigorating, even!¡±


    Quentin had never seen them before but he recognized them immediately. All he had to do was look to Razia and see the fear in her eyes to confirm it. Piro and Christophe were there to crash the party.

 Chapter 86: The Shapers Offer

    Chapter 86: The Shaper¡¯s Offer


    The only person in the room who hated surprise more than Razia was Mr. Cicero, and he was not happy. He was also the only one who might¡¯ve hated Piro more than her, and at the moment Razia¡¯s hate bowed out to let fear take center stage. She hated him, but seeing him and Christophe standing there in the middle of their private party, she was utterly terrified of what could possibly happen. The only thing she knew for sure was it wouldn¡¯t end well.


    ¡°Now, the thing about war is you don¡¯t have to win it,¡± Piro called up to them, taking the center of the room for himself. He was surrounded by a vanguard of his own men, knives out and ready. ¡°You just have to make it too expensive for the other bastard to keep going. And I think we¡¯re in a pretty good place to do that. But I¡¯m getting ahead of myself. How are you, Cicero?¡±


    Mr. Cicero let out a long breath. ¡°Good evening, Piro. I¡¯m doing okay. A little confused, I think, at how you got past my men. And what exactly you intend on doing here. You have to know you can¡¯t win in an open fight.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, but see, we¡¯re not here to fight.¡±


    A murmur went through the crowd. Quentin met her eyes questioningly. Oh gods, he didn¡¯t know what to do. Neither did she. Razia shrugged helplessly. It was hard to think over the pounding of her heart. There was a small, selfish part of her that hoped they could resolve all of this without ever seeing the bastard again. And while she was scared of what Piro could do, it was nothing compared to the cruelty Christophe could dish out. His eyes were on her, staring unblinkingly. She kissed the air and smiled at the way his face turned into an animalistic snarl.


    ¡°Then why are you here? This is a private party, and you weren¡¯t invited.¡± Mr. Cicero sounded calm, but Razia could see how unnerved he was. He was gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. ¡°Who told you about it?¡±


    Piro shrugged. ¡°As much effort as you put into clearing out my informers, you didn¡¯t get them all. It wasn¡¯t hard to find out when, nor to knock out your men. Just a bit of alchemical help and a strong breeze and they¡¯re all asleep at their posts. Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯re still alive. We genuinely just want to talk, before things get ugly. Well, uglier.¡±


    An entire room full of criminals and mercenaries grumbled, becoming more alert by the second. With most of them only lightly armed, no one was rushing to attack. Some of them looked ready though, and they greatly outnumbered Piro and his men. The problem was both the pains in her ass were way more dangerous than they looked. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing Christophe hadn¡¯t been busted out so Quentin could¡¯ve executed him like he was supposed to.


    Razia whispered in Cicero¡¯s ear, ¡°If he wanted to talk, why not wait until next week?¡±


    Cicero shot her a withering look and she fell back. To Piro he said, ¡°Why crash my party instead of finalizing details for neutral ground? We were already going to talk, now you¡¯ve just insulted me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn¡¯t take the opportunity to finish you off now, once and for all.¡±


    Christophe was the one who took point on this one, finally tearing his glare away from Razia. ¡°We have a couple. One, if you try you might be able to get one or both of us, but not before we kill you. For another, if we don¡¯t report back North Orchrisus will burn to the ground. Don¡¯t be a prideful cunt, Cicero. Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡± He held his hands up. ¡°Look. Came unarmed and everything.¡±


    Piro sighed theatrically, as if this was all some great hassle. ¡°And we¡¯ll swear upon the Wanderer that we come in peace and will abide by the rules of hospitality and friendship and all that crap, in front of you and all these witnesses.¡±


    Razia watched Cicero carefully. She prayed and tried to will him to refuse the offer and send them away, or to just attack and risk whatever repercussions would come. Mr. Cicero still wore the same barely restrained sneer on his face. He met her eyes. She didn¡¯t like what she saw there.


    ¡°Then be welcome Piro and Christophe. Get yourself a drink and make yourself comfortable for as long as your behavior holds.¡± He waved and the partygoers understood they were to go back to enjoying themselves. That was easier said than done, but if nothing else Fish at least just shrugged and went back to dancing without the music.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°I am,¡± Mr. Cicero replied. ¡°Like it or not, it¡¯s in my best interest to try to find a way to prevent all out war. We both know he can¡¯t win, but he¡¯s a spiteful son of a bitch and there¡¯s no telling what tantrum he¡¯ll throw if we say no. Behave yourself and trust that I have this all under control.¡± He turned from her and headed downstairs.


    Reluctantly she followed him. Her heart was up in her throat and every step forward carried her closer to her greatest mistake. Quentin met her at the stairs, falling beside her and taking her hand in his. She squeezed as hard as she could.


    ¡°Not going to let anything happen to you,¡± he promised her, bringing their hands up to kiss the back of hers. Gods how she was grateful for Quentin. One day he¡¯d get tired of cleaning up her messes, but for now she clung to him as long as he¡¯d have her. ¡°That¡¯s Christophe then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia, laughing nervously. ¡°Hard to mistake him once you¡¯ve seen him. Be very, very careful around him. He¡¯s got a temper and I think he might be stronger than you.¡±


    He grunted, and they continued forward. From a nearby table Isa stared with undisguised fear. A second later she got up and put as much distance between her and the uninvited guests as possible. Razia envied her, but there was no getting out of this. Cicero stopped and Quentin and Razia stayed just behind him.


    Piro smiled at her, and for a second she swore it wasn¡¯t his usual shit eating, malicious grin. He genuinely looked happy to see her, and she didn¡¯t know how to process it. ¡°This my replacement then?¡± he asked, nodding towards Quentin. ¡°A bit pale, but not bad. I¡¯d fuck him, at least. How about you Christophe?¡±


    Christophe sniffed. ¡°No. Unlike you I have standards.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Cicero growled. ¡°Say what you have to say. You went to all this trouble to crash my party and get our attention.¡±


    Piro nodded, bowing deeply. ¡°Of course, Mr. Cicero.¡± Even when back to business and sounding serious there was a part of him that sounded mocking. He always sounded like he was joking. It was something Razia once found endearing, even attractive. Now she wanted to claw his eyes out while screaming.


    He kept his eyes on Cicero and said, ¡°Firstly, I¡¯d like to apologize formally for our incursion into your territory. It was ill advised, and a product of seeing an opportunity that wasn¡¯t as prime as we thought it was.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just saying that because I killed a third of your men and got another third arrested,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Would you be apologizing if you¡¯d succeeded?¡± He wore his usual resting murder face.


    Christophe growled, but Piro continued to do the talking, ¡°Honestly? No, not at all. I probably still would¡¯ve sent the shards as a sign of good faith but an apology? Why bother if I got what I -- we wanted.¡±


    ¡°Which is my head on a silver platter,¡± Razia said. ¡°You had it coming you know.¡±


    ¡°Ms. Rashid,¡± Cicero started, but it was too late.


    ¡°You think so, bitch?¡± Christophe snapped. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯ve got coming to you. You should¡¯ve known your fucking place and stuck to gargling cock and looking pretty. You¡¯re not even good at that part.¡±


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m not a child, maybe you¡¯d like me better,¡± Razia shot back. The words came out before she realized it, face flooding with heat.


    Christophe shoved past Piro. Quentin pulled Razia behind him. Cicero stepped out of the way. Token moderator or not, he was too smart to stay in the middle. As big as Quentin was, Christophe made him look small. He was at least a full foot taller and half again as wide. Just the same, Christophe stopped and considered him. ¡°You think you can stop me if I want blood?¡±


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    Quentin tilted his head to the side. ¡°I think that even if I can¡¯t, I can buy some time for others to arrive and hack you to pieces. You feel like gambling, Christophe?¡±


    ¡°ENOUGH,¡± Cicero bellowed. Razia flinched. She couldn¡¯t ever recall seeing him lose his temper or even raising his voice. ¡°I¡¯m allowing this impromptu meeting on the hope that we can accomplish something here. If I was wrong, let me know so we can part ways and try this again in a week when everyone is feeling sufficiently mature and restrained.¡±


    Piro tugged on Christophe¡¯s tunic. The big man allowed himself to be pulled back, but his hateful glare was focused on Quentin. Quentin stared right back unblinking. Piro held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, ¡°I know things are heated, and there¡¯s a lot of bad blood. But really, I want things to end. I hurt you, you hurt me, we both did a lot of things we regret. But keeping it going, that¡¯s not really smart, now is it?¡±


    ¡°When does smart enter into it?¡± Razia asked, quickly adding, ¡°Anger doesn¡¯t give a shit about smart or practical. And maybe you¡¯re ready to bury the hatchet, but your pet giant looks like he still wants to strangle me. You willing to let things go, Christophe?¡±


    His dark eyes glittered dangerously. With the beard and longer hair, he looked half-mad. ¡°I¡¯m willing to entertain the idea,¡± he said. ¡°So long as there are some concessions and reparations.¡±


    ¡°That goes both ways,¡± Quentin said. ¡°My best friend is dead because of you.¡±


    ¡°A lot of best friends are dead because of me,¡± Christophe scoffed, ¡°you¡¯re going to have to be more specific.


    Balled up fists shaking, Quentin said through clenched teeth, ¡°His name was Demetrius. He died defending the Garden from your men.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have gotten in the way then, should he?¡±


    Piro sighed. ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t going well, so I have a suggestion. How about the brainy people go discuss this in private and the muscley people can grunt angrily at each other? Just me and you, Razia. For old time¡¯s sake.¡±


    For a second she almost believed him. Maybe it was the exasperation but he sounded borderline serious. It was a coin flip whether he meant it or just another joke. Razia wasn¡¯t feeling particularly lucky. ¡°You really think I¡¯m going to let a psychotic shaper get me alone after all of this?¡±


    ¡°I really think that,¡± said Piro, folding his hands and steepling his fingers. ¡°It¡¯s your best chance of walking away from this with things resolved, no need to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. I think that you want that bad enough to spend a little bit of private time with me. I¡¯ll even pay your going rate if that¡¯s what it takes. But if I have to pay I insist on one last fuck to say goodbye.¡±


    Razia held out her hand just as Quentin reacted poorly to that comment. He stopped, and looked about as unhappy as she¡¯d ever seen him. He had the rare look on his face that said he was contemplating killing someone. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll have a private talk on a few conditions. The first is you don¡¯t use any magic. I feel that weird pulling sensation when you cast a spell, I¡¯m walking away. If this is a trap or anything happens to me, Quentin will kill you both.¡±


    Christophe snorted, but Piro nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt he could accomplish this. You got a meaty one this time. Mmf.¡±


    ¡°And enough of that, please,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°Polite too. Fine. You witness our agreement Mr. Cicero?¡±


    Mr. Cicero nodded. ¡°I have witnessed your agreement. For the duration of this negotiation and up to an hour afterward, there will be a truce. The first one to break it will face the full judgment of my men. Do both parties agree to this?¡±


    Razia looked up at Quentin. He was angry, concerned, and unsure, but he waited on her opinion. Did she really want to do this? She nodded. Sighing, Quentin nodded as well. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Piro chirped.


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Christophe growled.


    This was her last chance to back out.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Razia said.


    Piro beamed at her, and for a second it was like the last six months hadn¡¯t happened. He was a prick but he was a charming, genuine prick when he wanted to be. Her fear ramped up further, having never settled. More important than anything else, Razia had to remind herself that he was a devious, self centered bastard who would hurt her for fun if she pissed him off. The smile he wore was a mask, just like hers.


    ¡°Right this way, Ms. Rashid,¡± said Piro, offering her up his hand.


    Quentin¡¯s hand landed on her shoulder, nearly making her jump. She turned to him. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said, looking over her shoulder to Piro. ¡°I don¡¯t trust any of this. First sign of trouble, leave. Don¡¯t piss him off worse, please.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be okay, I promise.¡± She tugged the front of his toga so she could give him a kiss. Then she turned around and ignored Piro¡¯s hand, walking in the direction he pointed.


    Even with the interruption, the party was mostly back to normal. Music played, people drank and laughed, and only a few people stared at them as they took the corner of the room. Lucy was there, sitting in a sleazy looking man¡¯s lap. She met Razia¡¯s eye and grimaced, sliding off the man¡¯s lap and holding out her hand. He followed her away, leaving Razia and Piro alone enough. Quentin was still visible. He and Christophe had more distance between them, but remained in the same area.


    ¡°Things a bit serious with the new guy, huh?¡± Piro followed her line of sight. ¡°Quentin Quintius. How did you end up finding him?¡±


    Was that jealousy? Razia shook her head, almost smiling at him. ¡°My relationship isn¡¯t what we¡¯re here to discuss Piro.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Piro clutched his heart. ¡°I beg to differ. What I really came here for was to say I¡¯m sorry. And that I want you back. I¡¯m serious.¡±


    For the first time in a while, Razia was speechless. After nearly half a year of hating him and running from the aftermath of her poor decision to screw him over, this was possibly the one thing she could never have predicted. She blinked, staring as she tried to figure him out.


    ¡°Okay, so,¡± Piro clapped his hands together, making her flinch. ¡°I never wanted to trash you like I did. I was doing it to appease Christophe, mostly.¡±


    ¡°Mostly,¡± Razia echoed. ¡°I know that already. It was for your image. Your precious image. You couldn¡¯t stand the idea that people were whispering that I was the secret to your success. You had to remind everyone you¡¯re the one in charge, the one who is on top. That¡¯s just who you are. And you know what? That¡¯s the exact opposite of who Quentin is.¡±


    Piro¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°What¡¯s his deal, anyway? I know you go for the weird ones, but oof. Seems obedient enough, but surely you can¡¯t be serious about dating a fucking moonkissed pimp. You might like to pretend otherwise, but you¡¯re a lot like me. You need to be on top too. And let¡¯s be real, it¡¯s more fun with you there.¡±


    Ignoring his smug smirk, Razia jabbed a finger into his chest. ¡°He¡¯s twice the man you are. Both figuratively and literally. He understands and respects me. He would never humiliate me in front of all of my peers. Not for anyone. You couldn¡¯t possibly think I would ever consider getting back together with you after that, let alone after trying to kill me.¡±


    ¡°I can, and do think that,¡± Piro said, undeterred. ¡°You¡¯ve misunderstood the attempt for what it was. I specifically wanted them to bring you back to me alive. Then we¡¯d be having this talk and I¡¯d make you the offer I¡¯m making now. Come back to me and together we¡¯ll rule over the entire Southside. We¡¯ll expand and be the richest, most powerful bitches in this city!¡±


    Razia looked back over. Quentin had left and was speaking with some of the gladiators, who all gathered together. Their conversation looked to be heated. Christophe stood there and stared at her from afar. ¡°And what about your big brother?¡± Razia asked. ¡°I have a tough time believing he¡¯d let me live after all of this. Him being alive and within thirty feet of me would be a deal breaker if I wasn¡¯t already a hard no.¡±


    Piro let out a frustrated groan. He ran a hand through his gorgeous red hair nervously. ¡°That¡¯s been difficult. He hates you more than just about anything else. Getting him to agree took a lot of effort, but I finally managed when I offered you services, for just one night. He¡¯ll get all of his anger out, you¡¯ll rest up and then make a few appearances, properly chastised but back in the fold. You¡¯ll take control of all the whores of the South and we¡¯ll move in on those last few neighborhoods outside my reach!¡±


    It took Razia a few seconds for his words to register. And then she had to picture it. She wanted to wretch. Piro looked completely serious, as if offering up her body to be punished was a completely fair offer. The worst part was how unsurprised she was when she thought about it. ¡°What a tempting offer,¡± she said, sneering. ¡°Come back and get raped by Christophe and then be your pet again. Why the fuck would I ever do this?¡±


    Piro smiled and Razia¡¯s blood went cold. ¡°Because if you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll kill your new boyfriend. And if you get one after that, I¡¯ll kill him too. And the next. You were the best lover and partner I¡¯ve ever had, Christophe included.¡±


    Razia blinked.


    ¡°Partner, not lover,¡± Piro amended, shaking his head. ¡°Ahem. The point is, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m willing to let you get away. So I¡¯ve decided that so long as you live in Orchrisus, you belong to me. You want to go home or fuck off somewhere else? Fine. I know you¡¯ve got some wanderlust in you. Have fun. But you come to my city, my country, you¡¯re mine. And I think when you accept that, you¡¯ll be happier.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen,¡± Razia said, heart pounding again. ¡°You couldn¡¯t kill Quentin if you tried. He¡¯s more dangerous than you and can beat anyone in a fight. We¡¯ve got Mr. Cicero on our side, and even if he doesn¡¯t want war he¡¯ll go for it if it means not backing down to you. If that¡¯s your offer, you¡¯re honestly crazier than I thought. This conversation is over.¡± Razia turned in time to see Christophe punch Quentin.


    Oh crap.


    ¡°Ooh. Maybe I won¡¯t have to kill him myself,¡± Piro said. ¡°This is going to be fun!¡±

 Chapter 87: Quentin Versus Christophe

    Chapter 87: Quentin Versus Christophe


    This entire charade was fucking stupid. Christophe snapped his fingers, pointing to his feet. A nearby slave tentatively came up to him, holding up a tray of drinks. It did not meet his eyes. Christophe took first one, then another, and a third drink and threw them all back. He let out a belch and motioned for the slave to go. This charade was stupid, but at least he didn¡¯t have to face it sober. If he did, he was going to crack and end the moonkissed¡¯s staring permanently.


    Christophe was more than used to people staring at him. He was huge, he was scary, and more often than not he was covered in blood and bellowing. Most of the time it was with fear he richly deserved and earned. It wasn¡¯t too often it was pure hate, but that¡¯s what was coming out of Quentin¡¯s eyes from his spot across the room. The pale bastard had a scowl that made his face look like a grumpy fish, and he wasn¡¯t alone. His men stared at him as well.


    ¡°I know I¡¯m pretty, but aren¡¯t you surrounded by bitches?¡± Christophe called out, gesturing between them. ¡°Find one of your girls and spend some time with her instead of eye-fucking me. It¡¯s getting unnerving.¡±


    The men talked to each other under their breaths, too low for Christophe to hear over the shitty music playing as the party pretended to go on like normal. Looking around, Christophe realized he was out in the open, alone save for the few men they brought. Those bastards had a table to themselves, sitting and drinking so as to not raise suspicion about their ¡®peaceful¡¯ intentions. If Cicero had a mind to, it wouldn¡¯t be too hard to have men with bolters rain death down on him, and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.


    The thing about being a gang leader and dealing with other gang leaders was respect and reputation. It all came down to appearances. Now, the Warlords didn¡¯t have a great reputation for talking things out. Part of Christophe was surprised Cicero went for it, but Piro had read that situation perfectly and here they were. They did have a reputation for following through on their threats, so maybe the tightfisted bastard knew they weren¡¯t lying about burning the north down if they didn¡¯t come back. It wasn¡¯t stable, but it was still a form of safety.


    Christophe shifted from foot to foot, tempted to find a place to sit down even at the cost of making himself look less dangerous. Now the talk included Quentin, who turned his back to Christophe to speak to the others. It was more heated now, but not for long. The five men with him stood in a line, arms crossed. Sighing, Quentin turned around and closed the distance between them.


    ¡°The man you had killed,¡± he started.


    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± said Christophe, mirroring the gladiators¡¯ pose. ¡°He was collateral damage on a mission gone wrong. Shit happens. Not my problem.¡±


    It was hard not to smile at the stricken look on the pimp¡¯s face, so Christophe didn¡¯t bother to try. He smiled pleasantly, basking in the hatred rolling off the man.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make it your problem,¡± said Quentin.


    ¡°And how do you intend to do that, freak? Planning on breaking the truce?¡± Christophe looked him up and down. His smile only grew wider. ¡°I would genuinely love to see you do that.¡±


    Quentin swallowed hard. His hands balled into fists at his side. Behind him, a blonde pretty boy fingered a blade at his side. Oh, if he tried, Christophe could have some fun with this.


    ¡°I have no intention of breaking the truce. If we don¡¯t resolve things peacefully then it will mean war. If it leads to war, I¡¯ll deal with you then.¡±


    Christophe burst out laughing. If people hadn¡¯t already been watching him, they were now. ¡°You¡¯ll deal with me? You and what army, Moony? If war happens then my men will take your streets and butcher every last half qala piece of ass you have. I will personally kill you with my bare hands. And you know why?¡±


    Quentin shrugged.


    ¡°Because it¡¯ll be fun. I don¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about you personally. You¡¯re just another dumb bastard who believes a whore when she tells you she loves you. If it wasn¡¯t you, it¡¯d be some other idiot. And if it was, I¡¯d kill him too. I¡¯d kill anyone getting in the way of me stealing the last moments of life away from that uppity cunt.¡±


    Christophe breathed in the man¡¯s anger. Quentin was seconds away from violence, but he held himself as still as a statue, jaw set. Must¡¯ve struck a nerve. So Christophe chased after it, smiling the entire time. ¡°Oh, does that hurt? One way or another I¡¯m going to end her life. There¡¯s nothing you can do about it, nothing Piro can do about it.¡±


    Quentin closed the distance between them, each step slow and purposeful. Behind him, the gladiators stood up straight, and Christophe¡¯s own men got out of their seats. He stopped about a foot away, looking up into Christophe¡¯s face. ¡°You going off plan, then? Won¡¯t your boss be upset?¡±


    The logical, reasonable part of Christophe checked out. What remained was two months worth of impotent rage, finally finding an outlet. He could¡¯ve handled some insults, some bravado, or even threats. All of those would¡¯ve been worth a laugh. Quentin had to hit on the one thing that would drive Christophe to drive his fist through Quentin¡¯s face. The pimp went sprawling back into his friends who caught him.


    The music stopped. Face after face turned to look at Christophe. He stood there panting, struggling to breathe through the sudden spike of anger. His knuckles hurt, but the pimp definitely hurt worse. He got back to his feet and faced Christophe, wiping away blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked impressed, but not worried. Oh, that was about to change.


    ¡°Question for you, Quentin Quintius,¡± Christophe called out for everyone to hear. ¡°The truce is broken. You going to leave me to Cicero¡¯s hirelings or do you want to settle this yourself?¡±


    Piro came up to him, looking excited more than disappointed. Razia was back with Quentin, checking his face and whispering something to him. Piro waved at him until he got his attention. ¡°Christophe, my man! Excellent timing.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°I just told her about killing anyone she dates. Now you can demonstrate for me!¡±


    Christophe shook his head. ¡°Looks like war then. Might as well get the lead problem out of the way.¡±


    Quentin stared him down. Christophe saw the battle in his mind, whether to deal with it himself and risk losing or leave it up to Cicero¡¯s men and lose respect as well as the chance for vengeance. Most men pretended to be better than they were. Vengeance was always a safe bet. ¡°I¡¯ll settle this myself.¡± Beside him, Razia shook her head vehemently.


    ¡°Excellent. Kiss the whore goodbye, Moony.¡± Christophe left them behind and charged down another serving slave. He took the drinks from them and shot them back one by one. Three drinks before a fight to the death was a classic ritual. When he got back, the floor was cleared of all people, most of whom went upstairs to watch over the railing. Quentin waited for him there, sword in hand.


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    ¡°You opposed to blades?¡± Quentin flourished his weapon with a flick of his wrist.


    ¡°Use whatever you want,¡± said Christophe, standing a few feet apart from him. ¡°I meant it when I said I¡¯m going to kill you with my bare hands.¡±


    Mr. Cicero cleared his throat from above. ¡°On my mark, you may begin. Mr. Q, try not to make too much of a mess.¡± The room chuckled nervously. Cicero waited a beat, then said, ¡°Go.¡± The room erupted with applause, cheering Quentin on.


    Quentin wasted no time in thrusting forward. Christophe had been expecting it and slapped it away with his left hand. The blade cut into his skin as he deflected it, but that was fine. It gave him the perfect opportunity to slug the pimp across his stupid scowling face. Christophe¡¯s fist sank into his nose and carried on. Quentin hit the ground and rolled.


    Christophe charged at him, each foot slamming down slow but craterous. Quentin had climbed to all fours and was almost up when Christophe kicked him in the stomach. He rose, only to go crashing back down to the ground again. ¡°Look at this sad sack of shit,¡± he shouted. ¡°Talked a big game, but where is he now?¡±


    The pimp climbed to his feet, looking shaky. His breathing was ragged but there was no panic on his face. Not yet. Pain, sure. Pain in spades. But if he was still able to stand, he wasn¡¯t hurting enough. ¡°You¡¯re pretty strong,¡± he said. ¡°But that¡¯s not enough!¡±


    Quentin feinted, and Christophe fell for it. He twisted again, and while one foot was in the air Quentin struck him in the side. The blade sank into his flesh, hurting magnificently. One of his rings warmed, slowing his body¡¯s bleeding down to nothing, paused for the time being. He grabbed Quentin by the sword arm and pulled him in deeper. For the first time that night, there was something like fear on his face. Uncertainty.


    ¡°Ouch.¡± Christophe grinned through the pain, squeezing Quentin¡¯s wrist with all of his strength. The pimp cried out, silenced by thud of a fist slamming against his face again. He staggered backwards but stayed on his feet. Pulling out the blade, Christophe tossed it back to him.


    Quentin took it, confused. His eyes drifted to Christophe¡¯s side. It wasn¡¯t bleeding much, if at all. Moving hurt and every second was agony, but Christophe understood how fights like this worked. You weren¡¯t just fighting the person, you were fighting the war. You were making a statement. For that he¡¯d endure anything. It¡¯s not like this puny little shit was a danger to him.


    Christophe advanced, lumbering forward. Quentin froze. There it was, that split second of indecision, that ounce of fear, that deciding factor in a fight. He barreled right into the Pimp, scooping him up in a bear hug and lifting him off the ground. He squeezed and squeezed until bones creaked and groaned and the moonkissed bastard screamed out in pain. He kept going until he felt the pop and then he dropped Quentin to the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Razia screamed, running to his side. He stared up blankly, choking on his pain. Or lack of it, if it went like some of the other people he crushed but left alive.


    Christophe strutted around the room, holding his fists skyward. Piro clapped enthusiastically for him, but other than that the room was nothing but hushed whispers and murmurs. So much for the man of the hour. So much for Razia¡¯s protector. The Warlord couldn¡¯t help but grin at his easy victory. From the ground, Quentin screamed in agony. That settled that.


    ¡°What did I tell you, Piro? Should¡¯ve come up here ourselves to handle it the first time,¡± he said, laughing. Piro laughed along with him, until suddenly his face fell. A second later the sword pierced his back, sinking in until it hit his ribs. The ring on his finger burned hot, a second source of scorching agony, but the enchantment held and the worst of it was blunted. He turned around, moving ponderously slow.


    The moonkissed was back up. Huffing and puffing and looking like he wanted to pass out, but he wasn¡¯t broken. Well, Christophe could fix that.


    ¡°This really, really hurts,¡± Christophe said through gritted teeth. ¡°It¡¯s still not enough.¡± With the sword still in his back he lurched forward. Quentin backed up but didn¡¯t have the speed to save himself. Christophe¡¯s fist crashed into his face, and a second later he crashed into Quentin on the floor.


    Raising himself up he rained ponderously slow, heavy blows down on Quentin¡¯s face. Again and again, all while his whore screamed at him to stop. He punched the moonkissed until there was no more fight left in him, and then he punched him until he went limp, save for the sporadic twitch. Christophe stood up. Reaching behind him he grabbed the sword and pulled it out, nearly dropping to the ground when he did. Just to drive the point home, Christophe took the sword and buried it in Quentin¡¯s guts.


    ¡°I think I won,¡± he said, laughing. The pain was taking over now, making everything slow down and speed up in waves. He turned to Razia, on her knees with a hand over her mouth. Gods, how he wished he could bottle this moment for later. And the next moment. She only registered he was coming for her when his hands went around her throat and he lifted her into the air, squeezing.


    Razia clutched at his hands, trying to scream or beg or plead and unable to, and all Christophe could do was laugh in her face. Gods yes, even if the wound killed him it would be worth it just for this. Just to feel the life leave the bitch¡¯s body. It wasn¡¯t the long, drawn out affair he¡¯d planned for and lied to Piro about abandoning, but it would --


    The world went white and his hands stopped working. The whore collapsed to the ground, hacking and coughing for air. The smell of thunderstorms pierced through the brain fog. Christophe whirled around to find Piro with his pinky and thumb spread, an arc of lightning traveling between them. He was surprised, and he was pissed.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t part of the plan,¡± Piro said.


    ¡°Not for you,¡± Christophe laughed, swaying in place.


    The clearing of a throat above reminded him of their audience. Cicero said, ¡°It was a clean-ish fight. It was an honorable end to a duel. Your quarrel with Quentin is over. Ms. Rashid remains under my protection. Touch her again and my hospitality goes away.¡±


    ¡°Not a worry Mr. Cicero,¡± Piro called back, putting his hand on the unwounded part of Christophe¡¯s back. ¡°We¡¯ll be on our merry way and see you at the negotiation in a week. I do believe our statuses have changed and you might want to reconsider terms.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t what Christophe wanted, but he couldn¡¯t have it all. He looked over to Quentin¡¯s fallen form. Razia was on her knees next to him, holding his hand and talking. Tears poured down her face. Oh, that was beautiful enough on its own. Her pain would marinate and make her death taste all the better. Abruptly, the gladiators took it on themselves to form a human wall between him and the moonkissed¡¯s last moments.


    ¡°Then go in peace and may the Wanderer watch out for you in your travels,¡± said Cicero.


    Christophe and Piro collected their men and left the party behind them. The entire time, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this would be the time honor would break and the guards would turn around and murder them all. It was the same every time he had a tense meeting. One of these days, honor would give out for the need for blood. Or maybe that¡¯s just what he¡¯d do.


    ¡°So,¡± Piro said after they cleared the manor and got into their carriage. ¡°Trying to kill Razia. You said we could let her live, so long as she paid her dues to you.¡±


    Christophe eased himself into the seat. As much as it hurt, pressure helped ease the strain of the magic keeping the wounds from killing him entirely. The magic drew on his own latent magical energy as well as the energy of the other rings he wore, but there was a limit and he was nearing it. ¡°Maybe I changed my mind. What does it matter? The bitch is still alive, I got to have my fun, and her bodyguard of the week is dead.¡±


    ¡°It matters to me,¡± said Piro. He pounded the top of the carriage and the driver got moving, the sudden lurch jolting Christophe¡¯s wounds. ¡°It matters because if I want to keep her for myself, her being dead ruins things a bit. Isn¡¯t taking her freedom enough? She¡¯s going to have to deal with so much shit you give her, death would be a kindness.¡±


    It had been weeks of Piro begging and pleading and explaining his case on why it would be better to let her live. The only thing that made it stop was agreeing to it, so Christophe lied his ass off. He¡¯d still lie his ass off if that¡¯s what it took. ¡°It wasn¡¯t intentional. You get stabbed in a fight, you¡¯re ready to go after everything you see until your body gives out. The plan¡¯s still good. And I still get to hit her every time she disrespects me.¡±


    ¡°I would expect nothing else, brother.¡± Piro smiled. ¡°Her days of disrespecting us are done. By this time next week she¡¯ll be back in my lap, terrified every second of what you might do to her.¡±


    Then again, that sounded appealing too. Maybe Christophe wouldn¡¯t kill her right away.

 Chapter 88: A Flickering Shadow

    Chapter 88: A Flickering Shadow


    Pain.


    Head, face, arms, back, everything was burning and pulsing and twitching, some of it so far away as to feel like the memory of pains long since past. Quentin lay there, unable to move. Just the thought of moving hurt worse. What he really wanted was to sleep. Sleep always made the pain better. Maybe he healed faster in his sleep too.


    ¡°Quentin, wake up,¡± a familiar voice said. Razia patted his cheeks, stopping when he winced and moaned. Fuck, was his cheek broken? How bad¡­Why was she crying?


    ¡°Quentin you have to wake up!¡± she insisted.


    Why? Why wake up when he was this tired?


    Some of the pain faded into the background, as far away as when he overloaded on numbing gel. It was cold like numbing gel too. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he tried to say. His mouth wouldn¡¯t cooperate and all that came out was a groan.


    Another flare of pain and the sword was pulled out of him. ¡°Quentin, you need to heal. Can do you do that for me? Heal the damage right now.¡±


    Oh right, he could do that. Hell, he had done that. Quentin was pretty sure Christophe broke his back, but a quick burst of healing and he could move again. Sort of. He tried to focus on the pain. It wasn¡¯t difficult when it was everywhere. But when he tried to single some of it out, his entire body protested, agony swiftly burning itself out. He slumped to the ground.


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    He opened his eyes, or at least tried to. His right eye forced its way open, breaking through a seal of crusting blood. Razia took up his entire world, spinning in a trio of pretty faces. She didn¡¯t look really pretty right then. When she stopped spinning, he saw tears pouring down her face. On either side of her was Jonas and Bruce, both looking grim.


    ¡°Hurts,¡± he managed to get out before the exhaustion nearly bowled him over. The world got dark. Something about that was alarming, something he couldn¡¯t put his finger on. It felt like he was slipping, falling into himself, deeper and deeper where he could never come out again.


    Realization hit him. ¡°No,¡± he groaned, trying to move. He twitched and fell back to the ground. This was it. After decades of doing it to others, it would be idiotic of him not to recognize it. He was dying.


    ¡°Raz¡­Razia,¡± Quentin put all of his strength into it. Panic gripped him, wild and awake, but the spark of energy didn¡¯t last long.


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she said, taking his hand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want¡­¡± he swallowed. It was hard to talk now. ¡°I don¡¯t want¡­to forget.¡±


    She looked at him, confused at first. Razia¡¯s heart broke in front of him. Tears pricked his eyes, just more burning in a sea of fading pain. He was losing time.


    Quentin gathered all of his remaining strength. ¡°I don¡¯t want to forget you.¡± In his mind he reached for her, but his body failed him. He fell, and the blackness claimed him.

 Chapter 89: A Dimmed Flame

    Chapter 89: A Dimmed Flame


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to forget you.¡±


    The words stabbed Razia in the heart. Quentin slumped and moved no more.


    The room was silent for a second, like everyone was holding their breath in disbelief. Eventually, someone had to exhale and it was Jonas who just whispered, ¡°Fuck.¡±


    She was already crying, but with the silence broken Razia let out an inarticulate scream and threw herself onto Quentin¡¯s battered body. He didn¡¯t stir. He wasn¡¯t breathing. ¡°You can¡¯t do this,¡± she whispered, voice still raspy from being choked. ¡°Get up.¡±


    The body lay there silently. Anger took her then, easier to grasp onto than acceptance. ¡°Get up you bastard! You can¡¯t lose, you never lose!¡± Razia hit his chest. Once, twice, then she was pummeling it while crying until someone pulled her away. She just fought them too, kicking and screaming until one of them physically lifted her and took her away from Quentin. ¡°Stop, let me go. Let me go right now!¡±


    ¡°You need to calm down,¡± Jonas whispered behind her. ¡°You need to get your head on straight. We need you.¡±


    We? Gods, that¡¯s right. Razia stopped fighting, and Jonas let her down. She turned, and she wasn¡¯t alone. Aside from all of Cicero¡¯s various men looking on with a mixture of interest and disappointment, there were her people, drawn away from their dates by the duel. Now they faced the same cold, horrible reality Razia did: Quentin wasn¡¯t getting back up.


    ¡°Mr. Q,¡± Samantha whimpered, stepping forward, Lynne at her side. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wasn¡¯t alone. Lucy was nearby and broke down crying. Kelli looked horrified, while Jenna stared blankly in disbelief. Tenchi was unhappy but hadn¡¯t been especially close with Quentin, and Cullen was pensive but kept a strong face. The worst of them was Isa.


    Isa¡¯s face held the same disbelief Razia had, but worse. The stabbing feeling in Razia wasn¡¯t going anywhere. She knew in her heart what all of this meant, even if she didn¡¯t want to accept it¡­wasn¡¯t ready to accept it. Isa looked lost. All of her irritation and contempt was gone while she stared as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Jonas said gently. ¡°We need¡­We need to get him home. And to get all the girls home safely.¡±


    His words made sense, but it was hard to listen.


    ¡°Fucking hell, why did we just let that guy go?¡± Bruce growled. ¡°He fucking killed Quentin and we just watched and let him go!¡±


    ¡°It was a duel,¡± Jonas said, frowning. ¡°As far as I can tell by whatever rules are set up among the bastards here, they would¡¯ve turned on us if we interfered.¡±


    ¡°We just let him do it,¡± Bruce repeated, pulling at his hair. ¡°We should¡¯ve jumped in and killed that bastard. Now he¡¯s gotten both Demetrius and Quentin.¡±


    Razia turned from them back to Quentin and nearly let out a scream. ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± she almost shouted in her tortured voice. Kneeling beside Quentin was Fish, head cocked to the side like he was looking at something interesting. ¡°Get away from him!¡±


    Fish looked up at her, face screwed up. ¡°His heart¡¯s still beating.¡±


    It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over her. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°His heart¡¯s still beating,¡± Fish repeated louder, looking around at the rest of them. ¡°He¡¯s not breathing or moving or anything, but his heart¡¯s still beating. It¡¯s fucking weird, man.¡±


    Razia rushed over to him, shoving him out of the way. A trembling hand went to his chest. Sure enough, it thudded beneath her hand. It was slow and weak, but obviously there. She touched his cheek, and it was still as warm as he ever was. If it was possible, Quentin somehow looked paler than normal, and he very much was not breathing, but his heart still chugged along.


    Behind her, Mr. Cicero came up to them. He waited until she noticed him to address her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss, Ms. Rashid. I had higher hopes for him than this.¡±


    Her anger flared, hot and ready to be unleashed. ¡°Keep your hopes. Quentin¡¯s going to be fine.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow, staring directly at Quentin¡¯s still warm corpse.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be fine,¡± Razia repeated, louder than before. ¡°Just give us a week or so.¡±


    Cicero cleared his throat. ¡°So you¡¯re saying he¡¯ll be¡­okay, to attend the peace talks?¡±


    Razia shook her head fiercely. ¡°No, no peace talks. Those fuckers want war, so war they¡¯ll get. In a week Quentin will be back on his feet and we¡¯ll be ready to fight.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t even as if there was a part of her telling her she was right, and that all she had to do was wait. All Razia had was the unflinching refusal to accept what was happening to her, like she could just will Quentin back to life. Maybe she couldn¡¯t do anything about it, but she could buy time. Maybe that¡¯s all she could do.


    Mr. Cicero grimaced. To his credit, he actually looked unhappy rather than mildly amused at everything going on around him. ¡°Do you know something I don¡¯t, Razia? Do you have reason to believe Quentin will get back up?¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°I do. And I¡¯ll make you a deal. Give me a week, keep the streets safe and be prepared for fuckery from Piro. If in a week Quentin isn¡¯t better, I¡¯ll let you trade me to him for a bunch of shards. All I need from you is patience and time.¡± Razia wiped at her eyes.


    Something like pity showed in his face. Mr. Cicero sighed, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯ll have it. You might consider using that time to plot your exit. Quentin had more than enough money for you all and I could get you access to it. Leaving the city might be preferable to turning yourself in.¡±


    Razia laughed, earning startled looks from everyone around her. ¡°I don¡¯t need Quentin¡¯s mountain of shards. He¡¯s going to be okay.¡±


    ¡°Right. If you need to take your girls and go home, this party has been thoroughly crashed. I¡¯m going to have my work cut out for me, maintaining control over those jackals. But that¡¯s my problem and Piro will pay for this insult. Go home.¡±


    ¡°Raincheck,¡± said Razia. ¡°We owe you a hell of a party, and we¡¯ll throw one as soon as Christophe is dead.¡±


    With one last look and a short nod, Cicero left her alone with Jonas, Bruce, Fish, and Quentin¡¯s abnormal corpse. The girls remained a distance apart, and Razia intended to keep it that way at first. ¡°Jonas,¡± she said, startling him to attention. The teen¡¯s eyes were red and there were some tears as well, though now he mostly looked confused. She could hardly blame him. ¡°How¡¯s your arm doing? Do you think you and Bruce can drag him to a cart?¡±


    He and Bruce looked at each other. ¡°Yeah, of course we can,¡± Jonas said. ¡°My arm¡¯s mostly healed. We can handle this.¡±


    ¡°Where do you want us to take him?¡± Bruce asked, shifting from foot to foot. He didn¡¯t look especially comfortable being asked to drag a badly battered body out, but it¡¯s not like Razia could manage it herself.


    ¡°Beetle cart,¡± she said, looking at the body once more. It was still, save for the twitching of his chest. She had to assume this was weird savant shit she didn¡¯t understand, or maybe even moonkissed related. He didn¡¯t believe, but Razia would believe anything right then if it meant getting him back. ¡°We need to get him home and safely in bed so he can sleep this off.¡±


    The gladiators shared an incredulous look. ¡°Razia,¡± Jonas started.


    Razia smiled wide enough she could feel her lips twitching. ¡°He¡¯s going to be okay, and the first step in making that happen is taking him home. From there we¡¯ll get a physician, a surgeon, anything we need to make sure he wakes up.¡±


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    ¡°Miss,¡± Bruce said, frowning. ¡°He¡¯s dead. Look at him. I don¡¯t think a bit of R and R is going to do the trick.¡±


    Razia took a long, deep breath. ¡°Even if it won¡¯t bring him back to life, we still need to get him home so we can tell his father and arrange things. But that¡¯s not going to happen, you understand me? We¡¯re going to go home, and within the next week, Quentin is going to open his fucking eyes and get on his feet and stop worrying me this badly.¡± By the end of the sentence Razia realized she was yelling and sounded unhinged, even to herself. She cleared her throat. ¡°And if you help me out I¡¯ll give you an extra aquilo for your troubles.¡±


    Bruce made a face. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, no need to bribe me for more. Just¡­What happens if he doesn¡¯t get up?¡±


    It was a stupid question. Why didn¡¯t anyone believe her? Quentin was going to be okay. They¡¯d laugh about this later, even. Maybe then people would realize that Razia knew what she was talking about, her plans worked, and Quentin was entirely too tough and reliable to just die like that. How foolish they all were. She let herself have a brief laugh about it that clearly unnerved the two gladiators.


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t get up then I¡¯m going to be sold down south and someone¡¯s going to need to take over. You up for it, Jonas?¡±


    The look on Jonas face told her he was not only not ready for it, it was the last thing he expected. ¡°What?¡± he asked, gaping at her.


    ¡°Are you up for taking over if Quentin¡¯s really dead?¡± she repeated impatiently. ¡°We¡¯ve got a whole bunch of people relying on us and he wouldn¡¯t want them left high and dry if something did happen to him. Permanently, I mean.¡±


    He had to think about it but in the end he blew out a breath and shrugged. ¡°If I have to, sure. I like the girls well enough and I don¡¯t want anything to happen to them. But¡­He¡¯s going to get up, right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Razia wondered how old Jonas was. Quentin told her that as far as he knew, Jonas was still a teenager. And now he¡¯d lost his mentor and a big brother figure. Maybe he needed to believe too.


    ¡°Alright Bruce, let¡¯s¡­Let¡¯s get Quentin in a cart.¡±


    Grunting in acknowledgement, Bruce went around to the body and took his arms while Jonas grabbed his feet. With some difficulty they lifted him up and awkwardly shuffled out of the room, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Razia followed after them, wincing with each jostle and bump as if Quentin could still feel it. She watched them go out of the room, which left her with the other problem. There was no one else between her and the girls, and watching Quentin get dragged out made Samantha burst out crying.


    ¡°Is he really dead?¡± Samantha wailed. All around them, the party goers were exiting the building while the serving slaves darted around, already cleaning up. The temporary hires came up and joined their group, now the only real concentration of people in the entire room.


    ¡°No, he¡¯s just hurt really bad,¡± Razia said, raising her hands and motioning for quiet and calm. ¡°He just needs to rest. It¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    Silence.


    Isa stared at her in disbelief, with a clear storm on her face. Before she could go off Razia handled it. She looked around to make sure they were alone enough. The members of Cicero¡¯s Kingdom were mostly gone now, with only a few stragglers remaining. Like Fish, who hung nearby slack jawed but interested. Maybe this was an opportunity.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I should be telling you all this, honestly,¡± she said. ¡°But I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much choice. Quentin may look dead, but he¡¯s not. He¡¯s¡­Quentin¡¯s touched by the gods,¡± she said, hating herself for how much Quentin would hate this, ¡°and he can¡¯t die. Not permanently. He¡¯s immortal, and just needs to rest.¡±


    All around her, her people stared unblinking. It was Jenna who broke the silence, saying what everyone was thinking. ¡°Are you serious? C¡¯mon, do you really expect us to believe that?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± said Razia. ¡°It¡¯s the truth. How do you think he¡¯s lasted this long in Orchrisus and been so successful?¡± This was much more comfortable. Maybe Razia had a problem with lying too much, but this wasn¡¯t lying because she was right. Quentin must¡¯ve been fine if his heart was still beating. She grinned fiercely. ¡°Everything will be okay. We just need to let him rest.¡±


    Nobody believed her. That much was plain to see. Setback after setback, and something as minor as Quentin being beaten to death was going to ruin it all. Where was their faith? The more Razia spoke, the more she clung to what she was saying. If she believed it, why couldn¡¯t they? Her smile slowly faltered. Some of the temporary hires just shook their heads and walked out. Others followed, until only a few of the new people and their original group remained.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Lucy, looking miserable. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be okay,¡± Samantha echoed. Then came Lynne, Jenna, Kelli, and even Tenchi and Cullen. The only one who didn¡¯t say it was, surprise surprise, Isa. Thankfully, she didn¡¯t say anything. Not yet, at least. Razia would have to deal with that sooner rather than later if she wanted to maintain control.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be okay,¡± Razia said one last time. She walked out of the hall, expecting the others to follow her. After a second, they fell in line and headed on out to the beetle carts.


    Most of them were already gone or in the process of leaving. That left the original three carts they came in, as well as a smaller cart pulled by a charger beetle. Quentin¡¯s body was in that one. Without even thinking about it, that¡¯s where Razia headed. She climbed in and carefully sat down, keeping her feet off of him. A second later, Isa joined her, wearing an expression that screamed she would not be denied.


    Jonas and Bruce handled wrangling the gladiators, telling them the plan and helping keep order. It was thanks to them that the girls all got on board and headed back to their part of the city. Their own cart driver waited until the others were on their way before the beetle got moving, skittering forward. Isa waited until they were out of the complex before she started in on her.


    ¡°What¡¯s the real plan?¡± she asked. ¡°For when like every other person who¡¯s ever died, he doesn¡¯t get back up.¡±


    Maybe Razia could lie to herself, but lying to Isa was pointless. She¡¯d see right through it and punish her for it. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said, laughing breathlessly. ¡°I¡¯m going to pray. A lot. Every single day. I¡¯ll go to the temples if I can and pray that I¡¯m right and that he¡¯ll be okay. That he can heal this. He¡¯s a savant, Isa. That¡¯s what he does. He can heal from anything.¡±


    Rather than respond with her usual snark or accusations, Isa tentatively reached down and put her hand on Quentin¡¯s chest. She jerked it away after a second. ¡°Whisperer¡¯s tits, that¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Razia agreed, putting her hand down there. It was scary and unnatural, but comforting. It felt like there was a part of Quentin still there, even if he was completely still. She dragged her hand across his chest and cupped his battered, broken face. He was even still warm, somehow.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re crazy,¡± Isa said. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going to get back up. I think you¡¯ve cracked, and you want to believe it¡¯s true. Whatever¡¯s going on with Quentin, I think he¡¯s really dead and you can¡¯t handle that.¡± There was no heat in her voice, no bitterness or hate. It sounded dangerously close to pity.


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s true,¡± Razia conceded. ¡°Maybe I can¡¯t handle it, but if there¡¯s even a chance I¡¯m right, I¡¯m going to take it. If a week goes by and he doesn¡¯t get up, then¡­¡± Then what? No matter how much she tried to scheme and plot, it was like running into a brick wall. She couldn¡¯t see past the next week, couldn¡¯t picture anything.


    Isa considered her again, and Razia felt like she was oddly naked in front of the other woman. She didn¡¯t like how Isa seemed to be looking right through her like she could see it all. ¡°This is hard for you, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re not used to being tied down to something. Now that he¡¯s gone, you can¡¯t handle it.¡±


    Razia said nothing. That must¡¯ve been seen as an invitation, because Isa kept going, plowing right through her. ¡°You love to talk about being a good companion and loving a little bit of everyone but not getting attached. You got attached. That¡¯s why you¡¯re talking about staying.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Razia said, looking back down on Quentin. Even in death or whatever this was, he looked like he was scowling. As much as she could read an expression on his pummeled, bruised, and bloody face. ¡°For all you know I¡¯m just saying that as a smokescreen and will dip as soon as the rest of you aren¡¯t looking.¡±


    Isa shook her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you are. Not this time.¡±


    Razia didn¡¯t answer. What would be the point? She just let the ride continue in silence for a bit, nothing but the sound of insects and the sound of wheels on sand. They continued that way for the next several minutes, until they approached the city. The carts in front of them were already there and would wind through the streets until they got back to the Moonlit Garden.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help make things easier?¡± Isa asked, looking off in the distance. ¡°Anything to help?¡±


    Razia thought about it. ¡°You can make sure everyone gets paid tonight while I get Quentin situated. Just deflect questions and keep everyone calm. If¡­¡± Razia chuckled. It turned into a full on laugh that had Isa staring at her. ¡°Gods,¡± Razia said. ¡°No one could help me as much as you can right now. If you of all people aren¡¯t screaming doom and gloom and to run away, then clearly things will be fine.¡±


    Isa chuckled a little. ¡°Maybe I should be screaming doom and gloom. Every step of the way I¡¯ve been right at least a little. Maybe now is the time to run. But if it is, I won¡¯t say so. I¡¯ll keep them calm. You¡¯ve got one week.¡±


    The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. They got back to the Boulevard of Saint Trassius, where Jonas and the gladiators were already helping people off the carts and ushering them towards the neighborhood. Two of them came up and helped Razia with Quentin, taking him through the courtyard and into his garden. The guards didn¡¯t stop them, but she saw a couple of them whispering at the odd sight of two muscular men carrying Quentin in.


    They put him in bed, and silly as it was, Razia made sure he was laying in a position he normally found comfortable, pillow fluffed and in place. The room was dark, quiet, and peaceful. Jonas broke that peace.


    ¡°If¡­¡± he started, licking his lips. ¡°If you¡¯re wrong, I¡¯ll do what I can for the girls. But I¡¯m not him. Things will get ugly if he¡¯s really¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Razia, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing. ¡°But I refuse to believe this is the end.¡±


    Jonas sighed. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±


    End of Part 7: Into the Underworld

 Chapter 90: Conflict of Interest

    Part 8: War


    Chapter 90: Conflict of Interest


    The Colosseum was a different place now, with a surprising amount of gladiators taking shifts at the Garden. Groups and cliques were a natural part of their lives, but a surprising number of people came together to form a new faction that made up a quarter of the active fighters, and more in those retired or on leave. With only a small group of vocal detractors who wished the rest would shut up about it, the Moonlit Garden was a hot topic of conversation.


    It separated the gladiators into two camps: those who went there to work or indulge themselves and those who didn¡¯t. It surprised Jonas how much it united them, but he wasn¡¯t complaining. Not when he could just walk into the locker room and have a dozen people calling out his name in greeting. Jonas raised his good hand and called out wordlessly back at them. He sat down in front of his locker, staring at his armor.


    ¡°Hey Jonas,¡± David came up to him in just his underworld, punching him in the shoulder. ¡°My fight got rearranged this week. I¡¯m good to work a shift in two days if you still need someone.¡±


    Did they? Jonas screwed up his eyes as he thought about it. Somehow it fell on him to organize that. Razia helped when they started, but now Razia was a bit preoccupied with¡­Well, she was distracted. ¡°Sounds great,¡± Jonas said, punching him in the leg. Even if David didn¡¯t have a shift, no reason for him not to hang out anyway. Everyone was tense, like the city was holding its breath, and another warm body was welcome just in case.


    Jonas had quickly become used to being a rising star. In the past three months, his only loss had been at the Garden. He¡¯d won every match since his debut, and it was enough to get him noticed. It was a hard thing to live up to, being Demetrius¡¯ apprentice. Some people were jealous, others sought to knock him off his pedestal, but a surprising number of gladiators rallied behind him.


    Are you up for taking over if Quentin¡¯s really dead?


    He shook his head and got dressed.


    The practice yard was home away from home, and at least there everything was business as usual. Fighters did their drills in a line, each strike coming with the shout of the Colosseum¡¯s new head trainer, Hamish. Hamish was a new face, put in place by Amicus. He wasn¡¯t very popular, and he didn¡¯t seem to mind that fact one bit. Jonas went past him and right to the sparring section.


    Grabbing a heavy wooden sword and a shield, Jonas matched up with Renee with a sword and board of her own. She stretched, lowering into a fighter¡¯s crouch. ¡°Good to see you back here, pretty boy. Your arm doing better?¡±


    Jonas rolled his shield arm around. Range of motion was mostly fine, but extending that arm took some extra strain. The wound had healed fast and clean enough to not ruin his career, but it wasn¡¯t perfect. ¡°You should worry about yourself, Ren. When I¡¯m through with you I¡¯ll be better looking. Oh wait, I already am.¡±


    ¡°Eat shit!¡± With a laugh, Renee launched herself at him.


    It was so easy to fall back into familiar motions. The last two weeks had been too painful, too chaotic, too much. It was nice to just lose himself in the fight and let his body do the work. Jonas pivoted out of the way of her downward slash and struck. HIs sword bounced off her shield and the two broke away in an instant, circling one another. Both wore fierce grins as they waited to see who would crack first.


    Taking a bit of inspiration from a friend, Jonas raised his shield and lumbered forward. He wasn¡¯t the biggest or strongest gladiator, but neither was Renee. She raised her shield in time for him to crash into her, sending her stumbling backwards. She recovered in time to parry Jonas¡¯ first strike, but not his second. His sword clanged against her helmet. Her legs buckled but she stayed upright.


    ¡°You good?¡± he asked, backing up.


    Renee straightened up. She tilted her head until her neck cracked and then nodded. ¡°I¡¯m good. Nice hit. I always forget how fucking fast you are. It always makes me -- ¡° Renee shut up and launched herself at him.


    Jonas blocked, backing away and doing everything he could to dodge or deflect the furious assault. Renee gave it everything, and Jonas let his brain shut off and his body work for him. He didn¡¯t know what it was like for other fighters, but for him, it was like a dance. It wasn¡¯t hard to see where each strike would be next and be elsewhere, one step ahead. He was nearly at the back wall when he saw his opening. Renee overextended and Jonas sent his knee into her stomach.


    She doubled over, looking up in time to see his next attack coming right for her. She raised her training sword and Jonas knocked it out of her hands. She let out a sharp curse, and then another as he rapped her head with his sword.


    ¡°Dead,¡± he said.


    Rubbing her aching hand, Renee grumbled, ¡°Yeah yeah. Good one. This next time I¡¯m gonna break you.¡±


    ¡°Gonna have to catch me first, Ren,¡± Jonas got back into position, feeling pretty good about himself.


    ¡°Jonas!¡± He looked up to see Bradon jogging towards him. ¡°Amicus wants to speak with you as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°He say what it was about?¡±


    Bradon shot him a look. ¡°Does he ever? Look man, just go see him before my ass gets chewed out for ¡®gross incompetence¡¯.¡± He puffed up and put on Amicus¡¯ sneer.


    Snickering, Jonas sighed. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m on my way.¡± He dropped his sword and shield on the ground and was ready to run up there when Renee got in the way.


    ¡°Hey. Are there any shifts open? I could use the shards,¡± She smiled sheepishly.


    He racked his brain to try and recall the schedule they decided on. As far as he could remember it was mostly full for the next while. Gods, there was so much to remember. ¡°Next week we might,¡± he said. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect a whorehouse to be your scene.¡±


    Renee shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s either go drinking there or go drinking with some of the oldtimers who just wanna go on about their glory days.¡±


    ¡°Fair.¡± Jonas bumped knuckles with her and left the practice yard.


    It was still another four hours away from the first fights of the night and the Colosseum was already bustling with workers getting the place ready for customers. Various food stalls were in the main thoroughfare, already cooking up the snacks they¡¯d sell before the fights began. Jonas¡¯ stomach protested leaving them behind, but Amicus wasn¡¯t the most patient man in the world. A good ten minutes later and he climbed his way to Amicus¡¯ office and knocked.


    ¡°Enter,¡± Amicus called out.


    Amicus¡¯ office was the same ostentatious mess it always was, with no rhyme or reason to any of it other than to show off his wealth. Jonas didn¡¯t get it. He was far from an expert on aesthetics but it screamed insecure to him. ¡°You wanted to see me, sir?¡± Jonas said.


    Amicus considered him from the big plush chair behind his oversized desk. His gun hung partially over the edge, and his short, curly hair on the sides of his head were more gray than the last time Jonas had seen him. ¡°Why is it,¡± he started, deep voice filling the room, ¡°that Quintius is no longer in my life but his legacy continues to linger long enough to piss me off?¡±


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    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Jonas blinked.


    Amicus leaned back in his chair, hands folded together on his stomach. ¡°It¡¯s come to my attention that a number of my employees, you included, are currently moonlighting at a business owner by our former executioner. Is this true?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but --¡±


    ¡°And is it true that there is currently a waiting list to work at this business?¡±


    ¡°Kind of, but -- ¡°


    ¡°So,¡± Amicus boomed, cutting off Jonas yet again, ¡°A lot of good, hardworking people who fight and bleed for me are currently fighting and bleeding for someone else too? Not just someone else, but someone I absolutely despise. Tell me, Jonas, why should I allow this to continue?¡±


    Shit. Jonas grimaced, staring at Amicus, wondering if he would get a chance to speak this time. The silence continued, Amicus sat there with an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. ¡°Not sure you have much of a choice, sir!¡± Jonas answered brightly. ¡°Everything we do is off hours and away from here, and it¡¯s not directly impacting the Colosseum.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Amicus pressed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. ¡°Weren¡¯t you injured defending Quintius¡¯ business? You haven¡¯t been able to fight or make me money in two weeks. Did I not lose a valuable head trainer to Quintius¡¯ shit? I don¡¯t even know how much that¡¯s going to affect things going forward. I could be paying for the consequences of that moonkissed son of a whore¡¯s actions for a long time yet.¡±


    Jonas¡¯ jaw set. He wasn¡¯t the type of person to get angry. Everyone loved how roll with the punches he was, but this bothered him. ¡°We all mourn Demetrius. He was killed by a south side gang who¡¯ve been showing their face north. We¡¯re all doing our part to make sure that gang doesn¡¯t press further northward.¡± Sure a lot of that was at the business, and so many of the gladiators just wanted to play, but it was a popular spot now.


    ¡°Why should I care about any of that?¡± Amicus demanded. ¡°What does that have to do with me? I¡¯m not making any money off of Quintius¡¯ venture, I¡¯m losing staff because of it, and it¡¯s taking focus away from your real job. All it would take is one word and you¡¯re all banned from working there. If you want any fights going forward.¡±


    He¡¯d never liked Amicus, but now Jonas understood why Quentin took a swing at him. Threatening to take away his fights, it was¡­there wasn¡¯t much Jonas feared. He had no family, and all his friends were here. His life was here, and so was his future. Wasn¡¯t it? Are you up for taking over if Quentin¡¯s really dead?


    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Jonas, breathing deeply, ¡°and if you did that, you might lose some fighters.¡±


    ¡°You really think they¡¯ll choose him over a real job?¡± Amicus scoffed. ¡°I know what you pay, and it¡¯s not nearly enough to make up for the purse you get from a good fight.¡±


    ¡°I think they¡¯d choose Demetrius over you,¡± said Jonas. Maybe it was just him being hopeful and believing they¡¯d do it just because he would, but it felt right to him. ¡°Demetrius gave his life helping out Quentin, and a couple nights ago Quentin¡­took a bad beating from the same people. I think they¡¯ll choose Demetrius and a chance for revenge over you.¡±


    His beady eyes looked greedy. ¡°A bad beating you say? Is the moonkissed still alive?¡±


    Jonas stood up. It was hard to go with the flow when faced up with someone like this. It wasn¡¯t an honest opposition he could just deal with. Amicus was a slimeball and there was no directly fighting someone like that. ¡°Quentin is still around,¡± Jonas said, ¡°so don¡¯t get your hopes up. If you want to try banning working at the Garden, go for it. See what happens.¡±


    Amicus sneered. ¡°You really going to throw away a promising career for a dead man and a freak?¡±


    Are you up for taking over if Quentin¡¯s really dead?


    He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll throw away a promising career for my friends, no question. You want to give me the boot, fine. I¡¯ll be okay.¡± Without waiting for another response, Jonas left, ignoring Amicus¡¯ yell to come back.


    The walk back to the Colosseum was good for Jonas. It gave him time to think, and time to get in a bit of exercise now that his practice time was cut short. There was no point sticking around and acting like Amicus had any power over him. It wouldn¡¯t be too long until the Garden opened up, and Jonas had a place there if he wanted. He jogged the rest of the way there, luxuriating in the only slightly scalding spring day.


    He was soaked with sweat by the time he got there, but there was always a chance to take a bath before work. Jonas let himself into Quentin¡¯s house and peeked inside his room. Quentin lay there unmoving, blanket pulled halfway up his chest. In the two days since being beaten to death, Quentin still looked like the corpse of a man beaten to death. That didn¡¯t stop Razia from sitting with him, book out in her lap.


    ¡°...Begone, foul spirit, for while I yet draw breath I¡¯ll¡­oh, hi Jonas.¡± She smiled up at him. It was hard to tell with Razia¡¯s complexion, but there were bags under her eyes and the twitchiness of someone who hadn¡¯t really slept in a couple of days. ¡°You¡¯re here early.¡±


    ¡°Amicus might try to ban all gladiators from working here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Razia. ¡°That¡¯s not great. What are you going to do?¡±


    Jonas shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. Really, it seemed like he had two choices, and neither of them sounded great. Either he abandoned the Garden and doubled down on the Colosseum, or he abandoned the Colosseum and stepped into a role he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted. Hanging out and smacking around rude customers was one thing, helping run the entire operation was just overwhelming. ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to the others and see what they think.¡±


    Razia got up and went to him, taking his hands in hers. ¡°I really appreciate how much you¡¯ve been doing for us, Jonas,¡± she said, making him want to squirm. If only she could hear his thoughts. ¡°I just need it for a little bit longer. Just until the end of the week, and then everything will be okay.¡±


    He looked past her, fighting to keep the concern and pity off his face. ¡°Is he doing any better?¡± he asked. He wanted to ask if Quentin was still dead, but didn¡¯t want to upset her.


    ¡°His heart¡¯s still beating,¡± said Razia. ¡°As long as that keeps going, I¡¯ve got faith.¡±


    Faith was more than Jonas had. The closest he came to believing something would come of it was genuine surprise that the body hadn¡¯t begun to stink yet. He forced a smile and said, ¡°It¡¯ll pay off. End of the week, right?¡±


    ¡°Right!¡±


    After a quick bath, Jonas made his way over to the Garden. Only a few of them were there that early, and Lucy waved him down. Jonas came up to her, smile coming to his face. The youngest of the girls was really kind to him and always seemed to want his opinion on things. He appreciated how friendly she was. ¡°Hey Lucy,¡± he said. ¡°Everything going well?¡±


    Lucy looked around nervously. ¡°As well as can be expected, I guess. Jenna and Kelli have talked about abandoning ship if things get worse, but¡­you won¡¯t believe this, but Isa¡¯s been telling everyone to sit tight and that everything will be okay.¡±


    Jonas blinked. ¡°Isa? You sure?¡±


    Lucy¡¯s bright blue eyes lit up. ¡°I know! She bit Kelli¡¯s head off for talking about leaving and told Jenna to take her bitch with her if she¡¯s not confident. They nearly got into a fistfight!¡±


    ¡°My money¡¯s on Isa,¡± Jonas said, smiling fondly. He didn¡¯t think Isa liked him much, but she was his favorite of the girls to frequent. Every time he came up to her with shards in hand, she just rolled her eyes and then the fun began. The rest of them didn¡¯t have the right touch, as nice as they could be. ¡°How are you handling it?¡±


    She faltered. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted. ¡°I¡¯m still shocked. We all saw what happened. We saw that giant beat Quentin down and just¡­¡± she shuddered, and Jonas couldn¡¯t blame her. It happened so fast. One second the fight was going, the next Christophe had Quentin on the floor and was hammering him to death.


    Jonas pulled her into a hug. She squeezed him tightly. He stroked her hair comfortingly. That¡¯s what he was supposed to do in that situation, right? He had no clue, but Lucy didn¡¯t fight him or pull away. She just leaned into him further. ¡°We¡¯re going to get that bastard for what he¡¯s done. I promise.¡±


    That was one thing Jonas could promise. Regardless of what happened with Quentin, regardless of what Amicus decided, they¡¯d get their revenge. First for Demetrius, and then Quentin too if he didn¡¯t get his ass up. Jonas would lead a group of angry gladiators south himself if that¡¯s what it took. Christophe didn¡¯t realize who he pissed off. The Warlords may have been dangerous, but Jonas and the others fought because they loved it. It wasn¡¯t going to end well for them.


    He pulled away, smiling at Lucy. ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to happen for a while, at least. We got the better part of a week before the truce is done with. How about we get ready to open up for the night?¡±


    Maybe he wasn¡¯t up for taking over, but he could handle it for a few days. Jonas could buy them some time until they figured out a real plan, at least.

 Chapter 91: Only A kiss

    Four days into their collective held breath, Isa was about ready to go crazy. Over half of their time of pretending things were okay was over, and nothing had improved. Sure, nothing was going especially badly. Each day they got up, ate and talked together, acted like nothing was wrong and avoided talking about the party, and then later they¡¯d open and work would keep them distracted. The next day, they¡¯d do it all over again.


    Isa was sick and tired of it. It wasn¡¯t that she resented playing nice and keeping things from reaching a panic. No, when Razia asked for her help, it was obviously the right choice to make. After watching Mr. Q get beaten to death, things needed to be as normal as possible. If one of them freaked out, they¡¯d all freak out, and then people would start leaving and then it would all fall apart. It¡¯d prove Isa right, but she was done caring about that.


    Sooner or later, she knew they would need to make plans. Real plans, on either how to keep going forward or how to best run and stay out of trouble. If it came to that, Isa had enough savings to live off of for a while, if she didn¡¯t finish her transition. Maybe she¡¯d take Lucy with her, get out of Orchrisus and see the world a little. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and returning to the matter at hand: whipping this man¡¯s ass raw.


    ¡°Please mistress, not again,¡± the client whimpered, looking over his shoulder at her from the bed. She resisted rolling her eyes. Lee was a bad actor, but he had consistent tastes and was easy enough to satisfy that she could do this with her heart and mind miles away.


    ¡°Let me think about it,¡± Isa said, tapping the handle of the whip against her lips. ¡°No, again.¡± With a flick of her wrist the leather strap cracked against his bare flesh, earning her another cry of joyous anguish. And then another, and another. If there was anything good about Isa¡¯s job, it was being able to let out some aggression and frustration and get paid for it.


    The client cried out again and again, back arching before he fell against the bed panting. Isa took pity on them and threw the whip onto her vanity. She walked over to him, heels clicking against the floor. She was dressed in tight leather, accentuating her body while still keeping her covered. It was something clients like Lee here adored to see her wear when she beat them. She slapped her hand down on his ass, squeezing the flesh. ¡°Still with me, Lee?¡±


    Lee let out a moan and nodded. He rolled over and Isa saw he left a mess for her to clean up. Some people were truly touched by the Pierced Heart, and enjoyed pleasure and pain in equal measure. Lee was one of them, and while she wasn¡¯t thrilled about having to clean the sheets this early into the night, it meant getting him off without having to touch him much.


    ¡°Good boy,¡± she said, sitting on the bed next to him. She took a deep breath and let her mind wander again. She rapped gloved fingers against her bare knees absentmindedly.


    Lee sat up, grimacing as his poor abused backside touched her silk sheets. It could¡¯ve been way, way worse. He leaned up against her, and Isa tolerated it for the moment, even going so far as to wrap her arm around him and allow his head on her shoulder. Maybe she was going soft. ¡°As always, exquisite work Isa.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    They sat like that for a couple of minutes before Lee pulled away and started collecting his clothes. ¡°Same time next week?¡± he asked as he pulled on his pants.


    ¡°If you like,¡± said Isa, standing up. With the heels, she was a few inches taller than Lee. They tended to like that. ¡°Any chance you¡¯ll want something different by then?¡±


    Lee flashed her a grin. ¡°Do I ever? If I didn¡¯t need some time to heal up I¡¯d be here two or three times a week for your sweet touch.¡±


    ¡°My purse mourns the weakness of your flesh.¡±


    He laughed and finished getting dressed. ¡°This is for you,¡± he said, fishing out another couple of castura and setting them on the bedside table. ¡°For an especially good session this time.¡±


    Isa offered up her hand, and he kissed the leather before carefully walking out of the room, whistling a happy tune. Now would be the time to just replace the sheets, but that was more effort than she felt like putting in. Now that the session was over, her thoughts had nowhere to go but the tense, avoidant silence of the past few days.


    She went over to the door and stood there, leaning against the frame. Lynne and Jenna were with clients in their rooms, while Cullen and Kelli entertained some guests on the couches. Before too long they¡¯d be busy too. Lucy was probably hanging with Jonas. The gladiator was as thick headed as he was beautiful and didn¡¯t notice how hard she was crushing on him. Maybe that would get his attention away from Isa. The one person she did not see there was Razia.


    Oh, she made her appearances a few times a day and checked in to see how people were doing, but her attention was firmly stuck to a corpse. It was a good thing the Garden more or less ran itself at this point. The girls didn¡¯t need to be told how to be whores, and the gladiators did a fair job of making sure uppity clients knew their place¡­when they weren¡¯t cashing in their pay for a round after they officially closed. So long as there wasn¡¯t another invasion, they¡¯d be fine, but the islander¡¯s absence bothered Isa.


    ¡°Hey Isa!¡± Samantha saw her and waved wildly for her attention. ¡°We were about to deal a new hand, you want in?¡±


    Did she? Isa pursed her lips. Her eyes slid over to the oversized chair Quentin sat in when things were normal. ¡°Not right now,¡± Isa called back. ¡°I think I¡¯m done for the night.¡± She closed the door and went for the garden, heels clicking the entire way.


    The courtyard between the houses wasn¡¯t as busy in the evenings now. The other residents kept their kids inside after dark, as if the scary whores and their horny customers would get and corrupt them. Still, there were always a few guards and it was worth not changing just to see the expressions on their faces as Isa went from one house to the other. She blew a kiss at a guard who straightened up and gaped at her.


    Quentin¡¯s house was the same dark tomb it always was this time of night. Isa took a lamp with her, turning it up. She headed right for his bedroom, hesitating a second before going ahead and knocking. Razia¡¯s muffled voice told her to go inside, so she did.


    Razia looked terrible. Four days had passed, and if she¡¯d gotten as many hours of sleep in that time, Isa would be surprised. Still, she offered up a tired smile. ¡°Looking good, Isa. Busy night?¡±


    ¡°So busy I decided to call it quits after one client,¡± said Isa. ¡°You look like shit.¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°You¡¯re always such a charmer. What did we do to deserve you?¡±


    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you¡¯ve eaten? Slept? Taken a bath? I can smell you from over here and it¡¯s nearly as bad as you look.¡± Isa smiled pleasantly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her. Quentin lay in the middle of it, unmoving. Somehow, he didn¡¯t stink and his chest did rise in tiny little bumps every so often.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± said Razia. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯m -- ¡°


    ¡°Just pining away after a guy who¡¯s mostly dead,¡± Isa spat. ¡°Hiding away in here while the rest of us face reality.¡± It was always worth it to go after Razia. While the islander could get under just about anyone¡¯s skin, Isa had the incredible ability to get under hers. No one could drain Razia¡¯s patience and good cheer away like Isa with a well pointed comment.


    ¡°Is there a point to any of this?¡±


    Isa nodded. ¡°Of course there is. Go get something to eat and drink. Take a bath. Take a nap, anything other than just sitting in here and going crazier by the minute. Do you have any idea how weird it¡¯s been that you¡¯ve been cleaning up a corpse and reading to it?¡±


    Razia looked away from her. ¡°I know how it looks. I can¡¯t explain it, I just¡­I don¡¯t think he¡¯s gone. Not yet. Not like that.¡±


    Here, Isa felt for her. No one thought Quentin could lose, not even against someone as big and dangerous as Christophe. Hell, Isa saw the man skewered with a sword and he kept on going. That was crazy too, but not as crazy as keeping on like this. But then, if Isa was in love with someone and watched them die, she imagined she¡¯d go a little crazy too.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Maybe, maybe not,¡± Isa allowed. ¡°Could be you¡¯re just not accepting it. But look at it this way. Either he wakes up, or he doesn¡¯t. If he does, I doubt it will be in the next hour, so why not go take care of yourself and I¡¯ll watch him?¡± Isa made a face. ¡°If you wish, I¡¯ll even read to him for a few minutes. At least until it gets too weird for me to go on.¡±


    She mulled it over, then nodded with a sigh. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll get something to eat at least. Thank you, Isa.¡±


    Isa waved her off. ¡°The sooner you have your strength back the sooner we can have an uncomfortable conversation about what we do when our week runs out.¡±


    Razia made a face but nodded again. She grabbed her own lantern off the floor and left Isa in the room with Quentin.


    And silence. After only just a minute or so of silence, Isa understood why Razia read to Quentin. Just sitting there with a body felt disturbingly like sitting there with a body. Sighing, she turned to Quentin. Maybe cleaning him up wasn¡¯t the worst idea. The bruises and swelling were there and his face still looked like raw meat, but at least it wasn¡¯t bloody. Isa could acknowledge that he looked a lot better there than at the party.


    ¡°Everyone misses you,¡± she said, just so she wasn¡¯t completely alone in there. ¡°Even me. How fucked is that, Butcher? You show up, kill my cousin, throw my life into complete chaos, and then you go and die on us all, and I find myself missing you a bit. No one else is nearly as fun to poke at. I can¡¯t bring myself to hurt Samantha, Lucy just bites back now, and people tell me to calm down if I mess with that bitch Kelli. With you at least, you¡¯d sigh and get that look on your face like, ¡®oh, how long is this going to last?¡¯¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t reply. Isa didn¡¯t expect him to, but it still felt rude of him to just lay there.


    ¡°I told you so,¡± she said, sniffing. ¡°That you¡¯d get yourself or us in trouble. And that¡¯s where we are now. I¡¯m pretty sure your woman has completely cracked and will get the rest of us killed if she¡¯s not careful. Bare minimum, she might actually trade herself over when time runs out. Would you be able to live with yourself if you let that happen?¡±


    The silence she got in return was sullen.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. So really, as much as I would absolutely hate to see Razia proven right and you actually not being dead, you should probably consider getting up now. If you do it before she comes back, you¡¯ll be proving me wrong. How can you resist?¡±


    Somehow, Quentin resisted.


    Isa found herself angry. ¡°If you were going to die, couldn¡¯t you at least have the good fucking grace to die all the way? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, this halfway shit?¡± Isa put her hand on his chest and felt the heartbeat beneath. Thump. Pause. Thump. Slow but there. ¡°Seriously. If you¡¯re not coming back, just fucking die already. The longer you keep on like this, the worse it gets.¡±


    She had no idea why this bothered her so much. Isa could go right now, pack all of her things, and be out of the city by sunrise and there was no one who could stop her. Nobody but her. Much like before, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to leave, no matter how much smarter or safer it would¡¯ve been. It would be so easy to tell herself it was because of Lucy and Samantha, but¡­She didn¡¯t want to go. And she blamed Quentin.


    ¡°When you wake up I¡¯m going to give you no end of shit,¡± Isa promised. ¡°You¡¯ll wish you had died.¡±


    This was stupid. All of it. Talking to him, having hope, even knowing that she was going to stay and see this through, however it played out. Stupid. She looked down onto his battered face. It was the only time she could remember seeing him without either his customary scowl or a dumb little smile on his face. She leaned in closer. If she pretended she could almost feel his breathing again, like he was sleeping.


    It hurt, then. The past few days, the last month, all of it made her ache. This wretched waiting, the lost possibilities, the pretending to be okay. Her throat tightened. No, this was stupid, she wasn¡¯t going to get worked up over nothing. This was Orchrisus. Shit happened and the good died young while the worst people imaginable got to keep hurting others. For a brief time, almost one whole season, they got to pretend otherwise.


    ¡°I blame you,¡± she said, sighing. ¡°For everything. If it wasn¡¯t for you I wouldn¡¯t be trapped on a sinking ship, too stubborn to get off while I can. If it wasn¡¯t for you, I wouldn¡¯t care about¡­¡± she trailed off, looking at him. It was stupid. Not something she thought about if she could help it. She was already considered a disgrace, and this would anger and disgust her family. In the end, she went for it.


    Isa leaned down and planted her lips on Quentin¡¯s forehead. It was the only part of him that wasn¡¯t covered in bruises. He was still warm to the touch. She pulled away, sighing. Laughter made her freeze in place.


    Razia was back, a bowl of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Isa swallowed hard. ¡°How long have you been standing there?¡±


    ¡°Long enough. I¡¯d say I¡¯m surprised, but¡­not really.¡± Razia reclaimed her spot on the bed, setting the bottle on the floor. She scooped a spoonful of rice into her mouth, smiling.


    ¡°It was nothing,¡± Isa said, keeping her eyes on the ground. ¡°He looked so pitiful there.¡±


    ¡°So you just had to kiss him. Of course.¡±


    Isa¡¯s face burned like the midday sun. Fuck. ¡°You were supposed to be gone longer, take a bath or something.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Razia asked, eating another spoonful. ¡°If I was gone any longer were you going to try and fuck him? Even I¡¯m not trying to wake him up that way.¡±


    Isa stood up, hands clutching at nothing but wishing they were around Razia¡¯s throat. ¡°Why the hell do you sound so damned calm about it? I¡¯d think you¡¯d be angry at me.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± Razia scoffed. ¡°You and half the Garden, Isa. Only reason Samantha hasn¡¯t jumped him is I made it clear not to. Lucy probably would, Tenchi would, why not you too?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Isa protested, sucking on her teeth. She wanted to just leave, but that would mean Razia won. ¡°I don¡¯t want to jump him, I --¡±


    ¡°What do you want, then?¡±


    Isa froze in her tracks. That just gave Razia more fuel for the fire. She burst out laughing, cradling her bowl to her chest at Isa lost expression. ¡°Oh, I see. That¡¯s why you think I¡¯d be upset. You don¡¯t want to fuck him, you want something more, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± Isa snapped. ¡°We both know that¡¯s not something girls like us get to have. There¡¯s no more when dealing with whores. Do you think we didn¡¯t notice that you stopped servicing clients once you two got together for real? Girls like us don¡¯t get happy relationships, and guys don¡¯t want their girls sucking other men¡¯s cocks.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± said Razia, sobering up. ¡°On all accounts. I¡¯m very happy with him. I¡¯ll be happier when he¡¯s up, but you know. And I¡¯m probably going to go back to seeing clients before too long. I¡¯m actually surprised, but before the party, he and I had a talk. I think he understands the difference now.¡±


    Isa looked up. ¡°The difference?¡±


    Razia smiled. ¡°The difference between fucking someone for money and having sex with someone who you personally want. That difference. Unless¡­When¡¯s the last time you¡¯ve had sex without money changing hands?¡±


    ¡°Too long,¡± Isa muttered. In truth, it had been a couple years. Time got away from her, and between avoiding those who didn¡¯t want her and those who wanted her too much, it just hadn¡¯t seemed important.


    ¡°So,¡± Razia said, wicked grin reappearing, ¡°I thought you hated Quentin. Was that to hide how you really felt?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± said Isa. She made to leave, but Razia caught her by the arm.


    ¡°Not going to tell you what to do,¡± she said, ¡°but if you want something, pursue it. You¡¯ve got nothing to lose, right?¡±


    Isa considered her. ¡°And what about you?¡±


    Razia released her and went back to her food. ¡°What about me? I¡¯m not greedy. My father has four wives. I personally have no intention of ever tying myself down to one person for the rest of my life, not even Quentin. Not like I would ask any of my partners to tie themselves to me either. So I¡¯ll repeat, Isa. If you want something, go after it.¡±


    She took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. ¡°This is stupid. We¡¯re arguing about the affections of a dead man. I came over here to make sure you¡¯re not going to kill yourself through neglect and I can consider that goal succeeded. I¡¯m going out.¡±


    ¡°Dressed like that?¡± Razia asked, nodding at the copious amounts of tight leather. ¡°Bold and beautiful. I like it. Hey,¡± she said as Isa turned around in disgust, ¡°he¡¯s going to wake up.¡±


    ¡°And if he doesn¡¯t?¡± Isa arched an eyebrow.


    Razia turned to his still form. ¡°Then we¡¯re going to pray louder and harder than anyone else in this city until the gods give him back. Either way, I¡¯m not going to give up on him.¡±


    Isa left her behind. She didn¡¯t go out after all, but returned to her room and locked the door behind her. The muffled sounds of enthusiastic sex were on the edges of her hearing, but that was a familiar, welcome sound she hardly registered. She laid down in bed, avoiding the wet spot and staring up at the ceiling.


    This couldn¡¯t go on for much longer. Something had to give. Something had to change, before it all came crashing down. For a split second she understood Razia. Maybe it was better to just let it all crash rather than walk away. Isa closed her eyes. For the first time in her life, she found herself praying to the Darkstar. No words or coherent thoughts, just a silent, heartfelt plea.

 Chapter 92: A Moonlit World

    Quentin didn¡¯t notice how all encompassing the darkness was until it was gone. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the lack of pain. After a lifetime of getting into constant scraps and being injured several times a week, aches and pains added up and became a personal song that followed him around. All of that was gone, and he marveled at just how little of anything he felt. That was his first clue that something wasn¡¯t quite right.


    The other was that he was laying in the street, staring straight up into an impossibly big moon, hanging full in the sky. Stars twinkled all around it, but it was the moon that caught his eye. He couldn¡¯t remember it ever being that big or bright or making him feel this calm and content. More often than not he looked at the moon with vague resentment, like it was the cause of all his life¡¯s problems. That was the second clue.


    The night was bright enough to see clearly, but all the colors were washed out. As Quentin picked himself up off the ground, the nearby buildings seemed¡­duller, in a way. Less real. They were there, a quick touch to the clay proved, but maybe only because he believed they should be. He looked down and he was in an ordinary tunic, the kind he wore at home when not trying to impress anyone. His knife was gone, as was his purse and everything else. It was just him, alone, in a strange yet familiar part of town.


    ¡°Is anyone there?¡± he asked, soft voice destroying the delicate silence. No one answered him. No one was around. ¡°Anyone at all?¡± he raised his voice, marveling at the way it echoed back to him. Nothing. Where was he? How did he get here?


    Quentin wracked his brain for the last thing he remembered. It was fuzzy, hard to concentrate. He remembered fists the size of his head crashing down into him again and again, and then a face. Razia, crying over him as he fell into a bottomless pit. Then the darkness. That¡¯s when it really hit Quentin. He was dead.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he groaned, covering his face with his hands. He rubbed at his eyes, mostly for the familiar gesture. He wasn¡¯t hungry, or tired, or thirsty and that was unusual for him. Quentin was practically always hungry but then, he supposed there was nothing left to heal if he was already gone. Then the most horrifying thought of all hit him. If Quentin was dead, why could he still remember his life? He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here, he was supposed to be gone forever.


    A purely mental wave of stress and weakness made him clutch at a nearby house for support. Again, none of it was necessary, but it still felt natural. He took a deep breath he didn¡¯t need and straightened himself up. ¡°Is there anyone here?¡± He called out louder now. ¡°Any shades here to drag me to atonement? I¡¯m ready for hell, or whatever.¡±


    No shades came out to attack him. Shrugging, Quentin did the only thing there was left to do: he explored his surroundings. After a few minutes of looking around for landmarks in a sea of cheap, ramshackle houses, he realized where he was. A crescent moon carved into the door by his mother reminded him of his childhood home, before everything went to shit. Hands trembling, he reached for the doorknob. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside.


    Color returned to the world, going from a cold and dark blueish tint to a warm orange glow from the fireplace. The ghosts of aches and pains returned to him, and he smelled something good cooking. He ventured in deeper. If his heart could still beat it would¡¯ve been pounding. There was the sound of someone then, fiddling with something in the kitchen. A second later a head peeked out, eyes widening at the sight of him. ¡°Quentin?¡±


    Quentin swallowed. ¡°Mom?¡±


    Sofia Quintius stood there, looking as he tried to remember her. Not as a skeletal husk, slipping away from life but as a vivacious, passionate woman who looked disturbingly close to him in age. She ran up to him, stopping just shy as she looked him up and down. ¡°Gods,¡± she whispered. ¡°You got huge!¡± His mother threw her arms around him and squeezed him. He squeezed her right back, tight enough to hurt if they¡¯d been alive.


    Quentin shrugged, backing up a little. Gods, this was weird. He wanted to cry tears of joy but they weren¡¯t there. The joy was though, and it made it a little hard to be sad about his current status. ¡°Pretty sure I¡¯m dead,¡± he said. ¡°Not sure how I¡¯d be able to see you if I wasn¡¯t. Dad¡¯s¡­We stopped talking for a while, but he¡¯s doing okay. Or was okay. I don¡¯t know how he¡¯ll react to this. Or Razia, for that matter.¡±


    Sofia cocked her head to the side. ¡°Razia?¡±


    Smiling, Quentin sat down at the table. It was time to tell the story all over again, but he found that he didn¡¯t mind. There were so many things he wanted to ask her and tell her, but it seemed like a good idea to go first. His mother seemed fairly well cut off from the world, and he didn¡¯t know it worked here in the Darkstar¡¯s realm. He talked until he ran out of words and Sofia still looked eager to hear more.


    ¡°Wow, Quentin. I can¡¯t believe what kind of life you¡¯ve had. And I¡¯m sorry you¡¯ve had to go through all of that.¡±


    Quentin shrugged, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to understand what dad always meant when he said bad times make for good stories. Just didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever be telling them to you. What¡¯s¡­What¡¯s it like here? Are you alone?¡±


    Sofia smiled back, shaking her head. ¡°Not alone, no. Things are¡­Different here. Time doesn¡¯t pass the same, I think. I¡¯ll be on my own for a while, just reading or cooking and then suddenly I¡¯ll get a bug up my ass to go for a walk and I¡¯ll visit your grandma, or some of my cousins. I thought they never forgave me for leaving Carolas, but turns out being dead is great for mellowing some people out.¡±


    ¡°You know, I can imagine it,¡± he said.


    ¡°And sometimes they¡¯ll come for me. It¡¯s not¡­¡± She looked down, biting her lip thoughtfully. ¡°It¡¯s not one unified experience. It¡¯s like a really intricate dream, always changing and coming and going in swells, like waves crashing against the beach. It¡¯s nice though. I¡¯m happy enough. I wish I didn¡¯t have to leave you two so soon, but I wouldn¡¯t change what I did for anything.¡±


    Quentin paused. ¡°What did you do, mom?¡±


    Sofia¡¯s smile turned a little sad, but it didn¡¯t fade. ¡°What I had to, to make sure you could grow up to be big and strong. Even if it meant missing out on all of it. I¡¯m glad I got to see you here and now, if only for a little bit. She kept her word and then some.¡±


    ¡°She? She who?¡± Quentin asked, though he dreaded knowing the answer.


    Sofia Quintius stood up, motioning for Quentin to go as well. She hugged him again, letting out a sigh. ¡°You¡¯ll see. I made the deal and I don¡¯t regret it. Not for one second. I¡¯m sorry we don¡¯t have more time together, but I thought you should get eased into it.¡±


    ¡°Eased into what?¡±


    She shook her head, chuckling. ¡°I¡¯m probably already saying too much. Why don¡¯t you take a nice walk to clear your head and go home? It¡¯ll all be clear then. And after that, you can either come back here and we¡¯ll spend as much time as you like together¡­Or I¡¯ll see you in a few decades.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t know what to make of it, but he didn¡¯t like it. He allowed himself to be ushered to the door, and bent over so his mom could kiss his cheek. ¡°Go home?¡±


    ¡°Go home,¡± she confirmed, gently pushing him out the door. He stared at the crescent moon, dreading what awaited him at home, but he got moving.


    He had a feeling he knew what waited for him in his home, and he didn¡¯t like it one bit. Of course, not knowing for sure was the worst part, far worse than merely being dead. He wanted to scream and complain about only getting to speak to his mother for¡­How long had he been in there? The time seemed fuzzy, and was already half faded into nothing more than pleasant thoughts. That worried him worse. What if he was walking into a trap? What reason did he have to believe the afterlife Orchrisus was any safer than the real thing?


    His feet carried him across the city, from his childhood home on the south side to the great bridge Quentin had run across to save Razia. Even now the bridge filled him with a sense of foreboding. But as he walked, there was no one else there to greet him or watch him or anything. He was alone in a washed out world, with each bit of the city¡¯s life minimized. He wondered if that was how it always was, or if it was just like that for him.


    His anxiety grew worse the closer he got to home and the more alien everything around him seemed. Down south, it was fine for it to be empty. It reminded him of the quiet winter nights he¡¯d be allowed out to roam the streets with his father, when everyone else was asleep. Up north, he was used to a constant bustle as thousands of people were around every single day. Seeing these streets quiet was downright unnerving. His home, on the other, was a welcome sight.


    As he went through the empty courtyard and entered his house through the garden like always, the same thing that happened at his mother¡¯s house happened here. Color returned to the house as he crossed the threshold, still dim and muted because that¡¯s how he kept his house, but the blue tint was gone. He felt more alive here, more solid and physical. On the edges of his perception, there was even pain. A lot of it. It was almost comforting.


    Looking around, he was still alone. The house was empty and silent. It was a gut feeling that brought him to his bedroom. He stepped inside, and had the curious experience of looking down at his own dead body. ¡°Gods,¡± he said, wincing. ¡°I look awful.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± a soft, beautiful, harsh voice said. A voice that existed on the edges of his senses, too big to fully perceive as anything other than a whisper. ¡°You took quite the beating, Quentin.¡±


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    Quentin whirled to find another person in the room. She was eight feet tall, and as pale as he was. Her eyes, her lips, and her long, flowing hair were a rich, blood red that seemed to suck in the color around them. Dainty, graceful hands were steepled in front of her stomach. The giant woman looked serene, and even pleased to see him. He couldn¡¯t say the same. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± he asked.


    The woman chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°You know me, I think,¡± she said. ¡°Take a guess.¡±


    The only answer coming to him was one he greatly disliked. Quentin swallowed, staring up at her with undisguised fear and even bitterness. ¡°You¡¯re the Darkstar,¡± he said. ¡°Goddess of death and the afterlife.¡±


    She inclined her head. ¡°You may call me Tsaba.¡±


    His mothers words came back to him then. A deal she struck, one she didn¡¯t regret. Quentin¡¯s stomach dropped as he realized what it meant. ¡°You,¡± he said. ¡°You really did bring me back as a baby, didn¡¯t you? My mother made a deal with you to give me life.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    It was like someone punched him in the gut. His knees wobbled and he fell onto the bed, sitting right beside himself. With shaking hands he covered his mouth. Maybe he didn¡¯t have all the same biological needs as when he was alive, but Quentin could still feel anger and a desire to laugh, to cry, to destroy this version of his room and scream in the face of a goddess. He did none of those things. He spoke, saying the only word he could manage to get out. ¡°Why?¡±


    The Darkstar took a seat on the bed next to him. ¡°Because your mother was so upset she was honestly considering taking her own life anyway. Because you were just a baby, born with your umbilical cord wrapped around your throat. You didn¡¯t even have a chance to live. And maybe because you were born on my day. A mother, grieving for her child on the day of my rebirth? How could I resist?¡± Her voice was cool and pleasant, but not detached. As soft as thunder and as terrible as a parent¡¯s love.


    ¡°I thought I was a savant,¡± said Quentin, fists clenching. ¡°After all those years of thinking I was a freak, I finally had an answer that was okay. An answer I could live with.¡±


    ¡°You are a savant,¡± the Darkstar said. ¡°That¡¯s the word you use for anyone touched by the gods, at least. Be it through direct intervention or being my children¡¯s children¡¯s children. In your case, it¡¯s both. You are descended from one of the first men and me, and I directly intervened. I gave you life, and plenty of it.¡±


    His skin itched. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible, but it did. Quentin wanted to pick and pull and tear at himself. Despite being dead and beyond his body now, he felt distinctly unclean. ¡°So everything people said about me, it¡¯s true,¡± he said, voice lifeless. ¡°I was dead and brought back, and in return it killed my mother. I¡¯m moonkissed.¡±


    ¡°You are,¡± she confirmed. ¡°You are blessed. Your mother willingly gave up her life to give it to you. I am the goddess of death, not of life. I cannot create life, but I can manipulate it. She gave freely, everything she had to make sure you had the life she felt you deserved. And because it was my day and I could feel her love, I gave you everything I could. You might be marked, but you would be the healthiest child in the world for as long as you lived.¡±


    ¡°Well, it was nice while it lasted,¡± he said, laughing bitterly.


    Tsaba wasn¡¯t laughing. Her tone and mood remained tranquil and even fond towards him. That was the weirdest part of all. Quentin got the impression of something so much larger and more powerful than him, but he could also feel her affection, the same way he felt it from his mother when he hugged her. She cleared her throat. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s over.¡±


    Quentin looked at his own battered and broken body. He gestured to it, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Christophe killed me. If it wasn¡¯t the beating, then it was the sword through my stomach.¡± He risked touching himself. His body felt warmer and more real than anything else in this moonlit world. Quentin pulled the blanket down and saw the wound in his stomach, flesh parted but no blood coming out, and no rot either.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re mostly dead right now,¡± she confirmed, ¡°but you don¡¯t have to be.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t?¡± Quentin poked himself again. He shuddered and turned away. It was too weird to think about.


    ¡°You could always heal back up. You still have quite a bit of life to burn through before you¡¯ve got nothing left.¡±


    That was¡­What? ¡°Please explain,¡± said Quentin.


    Tsaba inclined her head. ¡°When your mother made the trade, she offered everything she was to give you life. I added my own touch. You are protected from illness and you can heal any wound at an accelerated rate, at the cost of burning some of your remaining time left. As of now, you¡¯ve burned 19 years of your life on healing your wounds in the past. 20 once you wake up this time. If you choose to wake up.¡±


    This was all too much to take in at once. Quentin took a deep breath and tried to wrap his head around it. ¡°Are you saying that I won¡¯t die until I¡¯ve run out of time?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, you can die,¡± Tsaba laughed, the sound like the tinkling of crystal. ¡°If someone burns you to ashes or cuts your head off or thoroughly dismembers you, there¡¯s no healing a completely destroyed body. But for the kind of antics you and your friends get up to, you should be fine. Even from this. But barring the destruction of your body, you¡¯ll keep coming back, until you don¡¯t.¡±


    The thought was scary, somehow. Here he was, already dead and worrying about running out of time. He was only thirty one, and he burned off 20 years of life? ¡°How much time do I have left?¡± Quentin asked.


    The Darkstar shrugged. ¡°Hard for me to say. It¡¯s based entirely off of your choices and your lifestyle, now isn¡¯t it? I will say this¡­You will never be an old man, Quentin Quintius.¡±


    The weight of everything he¡¯d learned pressed down on him. His own unnatural life, his strange power, the fact that Razia dragged his corpse back with her and had him in bed. He was glad he was dead, it was possibly the only thing keeping him calm. But even that would end soon, apparently. ¡°How long have I been dead?¡± he asked. ¡°And how long will it take to come back?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been between life and death for six days now. It will take considerable time and energy to heal away this death. However, I believe your friends are helping speed it along as we speak. It will not be a pleasant experience.¡±


    Quentin snorted. ¡°As if any of my life has been pleasant.¡±


    The Darkstar raised an eyebrow. ¡°Has it really been so bereft of joy? Have you nothing to live for, nothing to make you happy?¡±


    He looked down. ¡°Okay, fine, things have been better, but it was still a rough start. Because of you, even. What¡­What would¡¯ve happened if I did die as a baby, instead of you breathing life back into me?¡±


    ¡°Your soul was still fresh, so you would¡¯ve been reborn before too long. But then you wouldn¡¯t be the same you, and your mother would¡¯ve died of heartbreak. I believe you were worth the chance of saving.¡±


    ¡°Why though?¡± Quentin looked back at his body again. ¡°There must be hundreds or even thousands of babies who die every day. Why me?¡±


    The Darkstar was silent for a second before she stood up. ¡°What do you know of my sister, the Whisperer?¡±


    The Whisperer, goddess of the deep dark places, of secrets and magic and prophecy. ¡°Not much,¡± he said. ¡°Just what we learn in the temple.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°My sister has foreseen great unrest coming soon. Very soon. For five hundred years my brothers and sisters and I have been limited, held back from intervening in the world.¡±


    ¡°Ever since the Warcaller¡¯s Mirth,¡± Quentin finished for her. It made sense. Gods, his dad was going to be pissed to find out they were real and did watch out for them.


    The Darkstar smiled. ¡°Yes. But even though we weren¡¯t allowed, we¡­we care for humanity. We wish to be good to you, and it was because of our excesses you suffered. So we allow ourselves a small amount of times to intervene, each year. Yours was one of them, and it was in part due to your mother¡¯s grief and in part due to my sister¡¯s visions. I may have need of you, Quentin Quintius. We all might. And because of that, I¡¯m allowed to offer you a special opportunity.


    ¡°In the dark times ahead, I wish for you to be my mortal champion, my right hand on Carlossa. You¡¯ll carry out my wishes and protect your people against the return of an old foe. In exchange, I will bless you further. You¡¯ll heal faster and more cleanly, and you will be granted wisdom beyond compare. If you accept, your little street war against the giant and his shaper friend will be nothing to you.¡±


    Gods, that was tempting. The opportunity to not just come back, but to get revenge for himself and put a stop to the danger. To no longer have to worry about Razia¡¯s past haunting them. He could just deal with it and be done with it in one go. But¡­Then what? ¡°What about the Garden?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°If I¡¯m your champion, how much time would I get to spend at home?¡±


    Tsaba¡¯s smile was oddly warm for how cool she looked. ¡°As much as I could spare. I won¡¯t lie and say that you won¡¯t be spending lots of time away from home. You¡¯d be traveling, fighting against a great evil, nigh unstoppable with my power behind you. You could be a great force for good in the world, if you choose.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll still heal up. You¡¯ll wake up in a lot of pain and have to heal more slowly and painfully than if you had my power. You¡¯ll probably throw yourself back into the fight and life will go on, with your life burning away every time you injure yourself. You¡¯ll have freedom, but you won¡¯t have as much time.¡±


    Quentin had to think about it. He got up and paced across his room, feeling a bit silly for it but valuing the familiar expressions of anxiety. The worst and best part of it all was the calm he couldn¡¯t seem to shake, no matter how troubled he was. It didn¡¯t take him long to get his answer, but he still feared giving it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent my entire life dreading what could be true about me,¡± he said, voice wavering. ¡°Ever since I was a child, everyone told me I was touched and I didn¡¯t want to believe it. I didn¡¯t want it to be true. I still don¡¯t. You and my mother gave me a second chance, but you cursed me to a lifetime of pain, fighting, and for what? So I could be a pawn against some great evil coming? I¡­I¡¯m not ungrateful for my second chance, but I never wanted anything to do with you. Not ever.¡±


    He expected anger, or resentment, something from the goddess, but she just nodded. ¡°I understand. The offer will remain for the foreseeable future. If your struggle gets to be too much just¡­¡± Her lips quirked up in an amused smile. ¡°Well, you can either die again to come see me, or you could go to the temple. That might be easier and less painful.¡±


    Quentin nodded, chuckling a little. He looked back at his body. ¡°Has everyone been okay without me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be better with you back. Think on my offer, Quentin Quintius. I¡¯ve given you a great gift, but you still might fail if you¡¯re not careful. With my help, victory will be yours.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Quentin lied. ¡°For now? I¡¯m ready to go back.¡±


    The Darkstar nodded. ¡°Ordinarily it might take you as much as another week, but I think it¡¯s just about time. You have amazing companions, do you know that?¡±


    Quentin was about to answer that he did, when warmth filled him. Hotter and hotter until it was a fire that consumed him. He opened his mouth to scream, and then the world turned white.

 Chapter 93: Life Affirming Masochism (NSFW)

    They were running out of time. The thought echoed endlessly in Razia¡¯s head as the days went on and Quentin still didn¡¯t get his ass up. She was beginning to get frustrated and afraid that she may have been wrong. There was no missing the way others looked at her and talked about her behind her back. They all thought she was crazy.


    Maybe she was. It wasn¡¯t like people just got back up after dying. While healers and alchemists could stave off death at the last second, lying around dead for a week wasn¡¯t something one came back from. But everything odd about the situation screamed it was different this time. She had to believe that, even if it meant she was crazy.


    There was an appointment tomorrow with Mr. Cicero. There was a very real chance Razia was going to turn herself over rather than risk Piro¡¯s men hurting any of their people. If there was any other option she¡¯d take it, but this was something she wasn¡¯t going to run away from, even if it meant going to her death. If nothing else, maybe she¡¯d poison Christophe and take him out with her. That would be a satisfying enough way to go.


    It didn¡¯t matter. Quentin was going to get up. This time, they were going to do something about it. The only thing they could, really. They were going to pray, really, really hard.


    ¡°Are you sure we should¡¯ve spent that many shards on this?¡± Samantha asked her, looking at their newest purchase. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I really like it and think it brings the room together, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m positive,¡± said Razia, beaming at the statue. There in the atrium, right between the couches and the pool and skylight, was the form of the Pierced Heart in gold. They were nude, legs close together, with both a penis and breasts, representing their dual nature. From their chest an orchrisus flower burst through the skin, thorny vines protruding out the back and wrapping around their body. ¡°This is exactly what we need.¡±


    Samantha nodded in understanding. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. How is this going to help? Shouldn¡¯t we be praying to a statue of the Darkstar? Not that Mr. Q would ever let one in here.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, you¡¯d think so, right?¡± Razia tapped her forehead. ¡°But the Darkstar is the goddess of death. The Pierced Heart is not just the god of love and pain. They¡¯re the god of in between. They go back and forth between the Daystar and the Darkstar, and spring is when they go from death back to life. We¡¯re at the height of spring. It all adds up.¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± said Samantha. ¡°But what about the rest of it? Why are we putting on a show? Why the audience?¡±


    They were minutes away from opening. Tonight was to be a special night at the Moonlit Garden, and that was part of the plan. Rather than being open for normal customers, they invited more working girls and gladiators. Tonight was to be invitation only, the Garden filled with their people. That was important, in Razia¡¯s mind. They had to be people who cared, and they had to be willing to participate.


    ¡°If we weren¡¯t banned from the Temple, I¡¯d ask them to do this,¡± Razia admitted. ¡°It¡¯s a ritual. A group prayer. There¡¯s an audience because they need to join in and witness it. That¡¯ll bring on the right mood, so the show will be a way to get the Pierced Heart¡¯s attention, right? And then with all of us praying and begging along with Quentin being touched by the Darkstar he¡¯ll get back up.¡±


    Samantha wrinkled her nose. ¡°Do you really think it will work?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll hurt,¡± Razia replied with a sad smile. ¡°Worst case scenario, nothing happens but the Garden has a good luck statue for when I¡¯m gone. But it¡¯s going to work. I believe.¡± It was a rough time when even Samantha was skeptical and expecting the worst.


    ¡°Out of the way,¡± Bruce called out as he and Jonas carried a wooden platform to the center of the atrium. On the platform was a giant X made of polished wood with metal cuffs at the end of each arm. They set it down, groaning with relief. ¡°That sumbitch was heavy,¡± he whistled.


    Jonas stretched out his bad arm, wincing. ¡°Not a moment too soon. A lot of people are here already, lined up outside. Are our two stars ready?¡±


    ¡°I was right about to check,¡± said Razia. She motioned towards the door, ¡°Why don¡¯t you let them in and get Tricia to get food and drink ready.¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± said Bruce, flashing her a thumbs up. The lanky gladiator headed towards the entryway.


    Razia went to Isa¡¯s room, knocking before entering. Isa was already dressed for the part, much as Razia found her a couple days ago. She wore a light leather outfit that squeezed and pushed her breasts out, while her ass was barely covered. Leather gloves and thigh high boots gave her a black frame, and a choker necklace with a metal orchrisus flower in the center completed the look.


    Lucy was dressed as well, for the most part. Unlike Isa¡¯s dominating queen of pain look, Lucy looked as soft and pure and innocent as possible. She wore a concealing white dress that made her already pale skin look even whiter and her black hair pop. Isa was finishing up painting her lips red, the only source of color on her. She blotted her lips on a cloth and turned to make a kissy face at Razia.


    ¡°Hey girls. Lucy, you look great. How are you feeling about all of this?¡±


    Lucy made a face and shrugged. ¡°If you say it will help, then I¡¯ll give it a shot. I¡¯m going to be honest, I¡¯m a little nervous about all of this, but I trust Isa not to hurt me. Well, too bad, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I notice you don¡¯t ask me how I feel about this,¡± Isa sniffed, standing.


    Razia smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. ¡°I don¡¯t need to. I think you want Quentin back almost as much as I do, don¡¯t you Isa?¡± She met her eyes until Isa looked away.


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    Lucy looked between them, not understanding. Razia just shrugged when she looked at her. Three was a good number here. One dishing the pain, one receiving it, and one leading the prayer. Not only that, but it was Quentin¡¯s three favorite girls. There had to be power in that. There had to. ¡°You two ready?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± said Lucy. ¡°I think.¡±


    Isa looked at her sharply. ¡°If it ever gets to be too much, if you ever want to stop, say the word ¡®red¡¯ when you can. And when you can¡¯t, tap the cross with your left hand. Do you understand?¡± Lucy nodded. Isa relaxed and turned to Razia. ¡°Ready. Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    People flowed into the room, the earliest among them grabbing the best spots along the couches and chairs dragged in from the other side of the house. The rest of them found places to stand, all surrounding the platform in the center. The statue stood tall behind the platform, watching over the entire room. Razia may have been small but she pushed a path through for Lucy and Isa to get through.


    Lucy looked around nervously, stopping just before the wooden cross. She turned around and held her hands up. Isa gently cuffed her hands and ankles to the ends of the cross. Lucy tested her bonds. They held, and she had plenty of room to avoid chafing. With as much pain as she was about to endure, the little things mattered. Lynne came up with a small table, Isa¡¯s instruments spread across a soft cloth on top of it.


    As much as the entire set up was Razia going with what felt right to attempt to gain notice of the gods, the actual event was based off of a ritual she¡¯d seen in the temple of the Pierced Heart. In the temple, only priests, priestesses, and a small handful of guests witnessed the ritual. It was her hope that a full audience would only make their prayers more noticeable, like a beacon in the night.


    It was only a little longer before everyone was packed into the atrium, some sitting on the couches or on the ground nearby, the rest standing shoulder to shoulder around the edges of the room. There were a good thirty people there. Hopefully it was enough. Razia waited until she was sure no one else was coming before she stood in front of the platform and spoke.


    ¡°Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming here. What we¡¯re about to do is something I¡¯ve been thinking about for a while now. For too long now the Moonlit Garden has operated with the quiet acceptance of the Pierced Heart¡¯s grace without ever seeking it out or celebrating it. That changes tonight. With your help, we¡¯ll bless this business and help get Quentin back on his feet again!¡±


    There were a few scattered cheers and hushed, muffled conversations. Razia took it as a good sign. ¡°You¡¯ve all been instructed what¡¯s going to happen and when to join in. So, be ready, and enjoy the show. You ladies ready?¡± Lucy shivered but nodded. Isa retrieved a bone dagger from the table. She held it up, pointing at Razia.


    This was it.


    ¡°Today we come together with an offering and a plea. Today we invoke you, Dolas, the Pierced Heart. We call you here to witness our prayer, oh king of love and queen of pain!¡± There was a small part of her that felt a little silly, a little over the top. It was drowned out by earnestness. Razia believed, and would until all hope was gone. ¡°Heal the pain from our friend Quentin Quintius. Heal him and bring him back to us from the brink of death. In return, we offer up the sensations of your disciple, Lucy.¡±


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    This was Lucy¡¯s cue. She swallowed hard and called out, in a voice that only waved a little, ¡°I offer myself up willingly. Take my sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°What do you offer?¡± Razia demanded.


    ¡°M-my innocence!¡± Lucy called.


    Isa held up the knife. Dozens of eyes followed her as she pressed the flat of the blade against Lucy¡¯s cheek, gently drawing it downwards. The knife dipped down, sliding against her chin until the point was against her throat. Lucy shivered, holding very still. Isa kept going until the tip of the knife reached the edge of the dress. With a sudden movement Isa grabbed her by the front of the dress and pulled the knife through it, slicing it down the center.


    Lucy gasped and the audience gasped with her. Isa slashed down and down until it was shorn clean through, hanging off her spread arms. Lucy stood there, strapped to the cross, exposed and breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell swiftly, and her eyes darted around the room. Her body was a plane of white, save for her pink nipples and the sparse dark hair between her legs. Isa stood at the ready, looking to Razia.


    ¡°What do you offer?¡± Razia demanded.


    ¡°A taste of my flesh,¡± Lucy responded.


    Isa swapped out the knife for a length of leather. Again Lucy shivered, eyeing the strap nervously. Isa swung it around in a circle, slowly at first but picking up speed. Right when the whir in the air became hypnotic, Isa lashed out. The leather slapped against Lucy¡¯s thigh, making her cry out. Isa struck again, and again, flicking her wrist and striking her on the other thigh, the soft side of her arm''s, and finally against her breasts, making Lucy yelp.


    A ripple passed through the crowd. Razia looked around. The gladiators were mostly enraptured by the sight, some ogling her openly, while a few of the other whores winced at the strikes. Still others nodded, either in approval or interest, Razia couldn¡¯t say. It was enough that they had all of their attention. With each crack of the leather against Lucy¡¯s tender skin, some people jerked, wincing at the pain. But there was no danger. Isa knew what she was doing.


    It was only about a minute of light whipping when Razia held her hand up and Isa stopped. Lucy panted for breath, unshed tears in her eyes. All along her body was color now, bright red where the leather strap bit into her skin and left its mark. Razia wanted to shiver as well. Ritual aside, it was a beautiful sight. Isa put her hand under Lucy¡¯s chin and tilted it upwards to her. Lucy gave her a short, brave nod.


    ¡°What do you offer?¡± Razia again said.


    Lucy swallowed hard. She didn¡¯t answer for a second. Long enough for Razia to fear she was going to call it off, but then she said, in a small voice. ¡°A taste of my blood.¡±


    The leather strap went back to the table and Isa brought the knife back. She waved it in the air, the motion liquid and smooth. Again she caressed Lucy¡¯s cheek with the flat of the blade. This time when she got down to Lucy¡¯s chin she brought the blade straight, with just the tip of it biting into her pure, pale skin. Isa drew it down her throat, just hard enough to leave a line of the faintest red. Lucy gasped.


    Isa continued, bringing the knife down between Lucy¡¯s small breasts, drawing around one in a slow, lazy, sensual circle. Lucy¡¯s body jerked away from the blade. Isa¡¯s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled on it. The teen¡¯s entire body arched back, presenting herself to the room and Isa¡¯s knife. Again it bit into her flesh. Isa drew the blade to the other breast, circling it once before rising and circling around Lucy¡¯s rock hard nipple. She licked her lips, shivering violently. She wasn¡¯t ready to call it quits though. She was the perfect offering.


    The knife dipped once more, leaving her skin just long enough to go over her navel, traveling lower still until Lucy moved away from the blade, whimpering. Isa stopped where the hair started, looking up at Razia for instruction. Razia shook her head and Isa pulled back, releasing her hair. Lucy slumped against her restraints, relieved. That relief wasn¡¯t to last for long. The worst was yet to come, and there was a purpose for everything.


    ¡°What do you offer?¡± Razia¡¯s voice was quieter now, but there wasn¡¯t a person in the room who couldn¡¯t hear her. Sometime after the ritual started, the Garden changed. There was a charge in the air, a heavy silence where the only clear sound was Lucy¡¯s labored breathing and light whimpers.


    ¡°I offer my comfort!¡± Lucy yelled, forcing herself to sound confident.


    Isa put the knife down. Next, she brought up a candle. She went to one of the lanterns and opened up the side, lighting the handle and holding it by the brass handle. She held the candle up for everyone to see. Razia could see there were people who were confused, largely among the gladiators. The others knew what was coming, and Lucy looked even more nervous for this than the knife. Isa stepped around the platform, displaying the candle and giving it time to burn.


    When the candle came close, Lucy backed away from it. There was, however, no place to go. Isa raised the candle up high, tilting it to the side. At first, nothing happened. A few seconds later, the first drips of hot wax fell onto her skin, making her jump and hiss in pain. It happened again like that, a brief time of terrible anticipation before liquid wax dribbled onto her body, splashing between her breasts. Lucy writhed against her restraints, breathing harder and harder as she made sounds through clenched teeth.


    Isa looked at Razia questioningly, jaw set. She was no stranger to dishing out pain, but doing it to Lucy was new and bothered her. Razia nodded and motioned for her to continue. Staring pointedly a second longer, Isa nodded and returned to her work. She held the candle sideways and a large amount of wax came down, sprinkling all over Lucy¡¯s stomach and thighs. There was no escape from the raining wax, and every fresh drop brought with it another cry, rising louder and louder until it was a soft scream. Then Isa pulled it away.


    The air was thick and quiet other than the increased breathing of at least half the occupants. Maybe some of them didn¡¯t understand it, but they were affected by the ritual. Some of them looked at Razia and she met their gazes unashamed, her usual smile nowhere to be seen. The ritual was getting closer to completion, and Lucy shook in place. Her beautiful body was now a wonderful mess of red wax, red skin, and hints of red blood.


    ¡°What do you offer?¡± Razia whispered.


    Lucy swallowed hard. She opened her mouth but no sound came out at first. ¡°M-m-my eyes,¡± she said.


    The candle was put away. Isa held up a blind fold. Gently, she fixed it around Lucy¡¯s eyes before stepping away. From here on out, Lucy only knew one more part of the ritual. The rest was kept from her, and that had been Isa¡¯s biggest complaint. But she understood. The Pierced Heart was all about duality, and there was a purpose to the pain. It was never alone. Isa brushed her gloved hands along Lucy¡¯s sides. There was a sharp intake of breath from her as Isa touched her, trailing her hands down Lucy¡¯s body. Teasing, tantalizing touches from soft leather against lovingly abused skin. This time, Lucy leaned into the touch, pressing herself against Isa¡¯s hands only for her tormenter to pull away.


    Isa circled around the cross, once more grasping Lucy¡¯s hair and jerking her head to the side. She bent down and pressed her lips where Lucy¡¯s neck and shoulder met. Another sharp gasp and Lucy struggled against her bonds. Isa kept the pressure up, tugging on her hair and kissing her neck while her other hand snaked around and cupped her small breast, gloved thumb and finger coming down on Lucy¡¯s right nipple and pinching it hard enough for her to call out, ¡°Oh!¡± as her entire body shuddered. She clenched her legs together tightly, rubbing them together.


    ¡°What do you offer?¡±


    ¡°My¡­My silence, and my control. My everything. I offer everything up to you, Dolas!¡± Lucy cried, voice cracking.


    Isa was ready. The next tool was a rubber ball with leather straps. Tenderly Isa pressed the ball against Lucy¡¯s lips. She opened her mouth and accepted the gag, and Isa buckled it in. Now Lucy couldn¡¯t see, couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t beg and couldn¡¯t plead. Now she was completely at Isa¡¯s mercy, a helpless offering to a temperamental god.


    Things were different now. Everyone could feel it. The rapt silence was broken, and whispers sounded through the crowd as Isa retrieved the strap once more. Razia turned in place, looking at as many people as she could, drinking in their expressions, their excitement and confusion and energy. When she spoke again, Razia wasn¡¯t alone. There was something with her, a weight, a feeling deep inside her bones of being watched.


    ¡°We¡¯ve taken everything the supplicant has given. We offer them up to you, Dolas, Pierced Heart! We beg your audience, we beg your indulgence, we beg for your blessing.¡±


    Isa swung the strap around again, picking up speed. The whispers grew louder and louder and there was this buzz, barely audible and everywhere, enough to make your teeth itch. The expressionless statue of the Pierced Heart loomed large over Lucy, seeming to glow before their eyes. If ever there was a time to finish it, this was it.


    ¡°What do we pray for?¡± Razia called out.


    Unified in a way that could never be natural, the room full of gladiators and whores spoke as one.


    ¡°Healing.¡±


    Isa lashed out with the strap, striking Lucy¡¯s breast. She jerked violently, ball gag stifling the scream.


    ¡°What do we pray for?¡±


    ¡°Healing!¡±


    Another flick of the wrist and the strap came down.


    ¡°What do we pray for?¡±


    ¡°HEALING!¡±


    Again and again Isa lashed out. Lucy writhed in place violently, rubbing her legs together. Razia¡¯s voice asked the same question, one after another as the audience screamed their replies and the buzz grew to be unbearable. The energy of the room gathered and roiled like a sea at storm. Tears flowed down her face as it washed over her, penetrating her and carrying her along until she unleashed it.


    ¡°Through pain be cleansed and pleasure reborn!¡±


    Isa dropped the leather strap. In a flash she was on Lucy, one hand closing around her throat gently, the other going between her legs. Her fingers ran tight, furious circles finally giving the poor girl the relief she needed. She lasted maybe half a minute until her body bucked against Isa¡¯s hand and she threw her head back, screams swallowed by her gag as the ritual passed into her and through her and to the statue. As she slumped spent, there was a terrible sound of metal grinding.


    The statue, facing forward with a featureless face, slowly turned upwards, staring towards the sky, arms spreading wide and welcoming.


    All at once, it was over. The spell that had come over the room was broken and all that remained was a room full of confused, scared, and uncomfortably aroused people. Razia felt it as well, a deep ache inside her body. But more than anything she stared at the statue, marveling at the sign. Then she laughed, gentle at first but growing in volume until it was unhinged.


    Razia took off through the garden, running through the courtyard, into their shared home. She threw the bedroom door open and went to the bed. Quentin was breathing, gasping for air, coughing and choking and very much alive. His eyes were wide and he looked around like a panicked animal wanting to bolt but too weak and too scared to move.


    She threw herself on him, hugging him tightly as tears flowed down her face. He grunted at first but then his arms closed around her. ¡°I never gave up,¡± she said. ¡°Never.¡±

 Chapter 94: The Immortal Mr. Q

    Kelli sat there in disbelief as everyone started talking at once.


    ¡°What the fuck just happened?¡±


    ¡°Did that statue move!?¡±


    ¡°Why am I so damned hard? I could hammer a nail with it.¡±


    At the cross, Isa had uncuffed Lucy and cradled her in her lap. She brushed a strand of dark hair out of Lucy¡¯s face, then pulled the torn dress to cover her as best as it could. Isa met Kelli¡¯s gaze and Kelli shuddered. There was something off in Isa¡¯s eye. It wasn¡¯t filled with hate or anger or disgust. The bitch looked serene, of all things. And so did Lucy, who had a small smile on her face.


    ¡°This is really uncomfortable,¡± Jenna said from beside her, cupping her breasts. ¡°Does that mean it worked? The statue moved. I don¡¯t think Razia¡¯s capable of faking that.¡±


    Kelli didn¡¯t know what she believed. She didn¡¯t know what her bosses would believe either. It was there inside her, the sound of the entire ritual. The voices at least. The cracks of the whip and the horrible sound of grinding metal wouldn¡¯t carry through. That was a relief, at least. It was a sound she never wanted to hear again and would never forget. Like the world itself was cracking open as the statue looked to the heavens.


    Worst of all, she was uncomfortably turned on. That was something she didn¡¯t think would ever happen working there. Mentally she was disgusted but her body was alive and seeking some relief. A quick look around the room told her she was far from alone. As best as she could tell, it was that unnatural pent up lust that kept everyone from freaking out over what they witnessed together. It didn¡¯t stop the whispers going around.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Razia faked it,¡± Kelli agreed, trying to force her heart to slow down. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened, but I don¡¯t think it was fake.¡± She stood on shaky legs. Jonas, Samantha, and Bruce headed towards the garden while the chatter got louder and more heated. It continued until Tenchi broke through with a loud laugh.


    ¡°Well well well,¡± Tenchi said as dozens of heads turned towards him. He sat reclined on the couch, arms spread along the back and around Cullen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°That was EXCITING! Who needs a drink?¡±


    It turned out everyone did. Little Tricia ran herself ragged, bringing drink after drink to muttering gladiators and whores. Eventually Lynne got up to help her. It was her who brought a couple of glasses to Jenna and Kelli. Alcohol was very much welcome after all of that. Kelli downed her wine fast, swallowing hard.


    ¡°Do you think Razia was telling the truth?¡± Jenna asked suddenly, ¡°about Mr. Q being immortal?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Kelli scoffed. ¡°If he was immortal, then why did we sit here and watch Isa whip Lucy and then fingerblast her while Razia begged for healing? I bet she was just desperate and didn¡¯t know what else to do.¡±


    Jenna choked on her drinked. Kelli bit back a laugh at the way she sputtered at first, then let go when Jenna started laughing. ¡°Gods, that was kind of weird, wasn¡¯t it? But how else do you explain what happened? It¡¯s either real or it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    Kelli didn¡¯t have an answer. Either this was good news or bad news. If Quentin was actually dead for good and this was fake, then maybe she¡¯d be able to get out of this assignment and skip town for greener pastures. Or anything green. The endless browns and tans of the desert were starting to get to her. If he wasn¡¯t dead, then things got complicated. A few seconds later, her heart fell.


    From the garden came Jonas and Bruce, carrying Quentin between them. The bastard looked like death warmed over but his eyes were open and he almost walked on his own. The room fell into a hush as they helped Quentin into his big plush chair. He grunted and settled in, looking around. He raised one hand weakly. ¡°Hey. What¡¯d I miss?¡±


    The Garden erupted with laughter, cheers, and incredulous demands to know what the hell happened. Kelli sat back down, listening as carefully as she could, trying to pick out the more important voices to know who to mimic later. It wasn¡¯t easy. In all her time there, there had never been such a loud fuss about anything, not even when the mercenaries invaded for a night. Razia sat on the arm of his chair, hand on his shoulder for moral support. Tears were in her eyes, but she looked happy. Quentin raised a hand and everyone fell quiet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you all have questions,¡± he said. His voice was weaker than usual. He sounded exhausted, but dead men didn¡¯t talk. This was real. ¡°I¡¯m afraid my secret is out. I cannot die. Any harm done to me I will heal. I am Tsaba¡¯s favored child. That is what it means to be moonkissed. It is not a curse, I was given life by death herself.¡±


    Kelli couldn¡¯t believe what she was hearing. She wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°We saw you die,¡± someone said from the crowd. That got a chorus of agreements.


    ¡°You had a fucking sword in your stomach!¡± One of the gutter girls shouted.


    Quentin smiled and pulled at the hole in his tunic. Almost as one the entire room leaned in to get a better look. Kelli saw a nasty scar just above his belly button. ¡°And let me tell you, it really, really hurt. I don¡¯t recommend being stabbed.¡± There were a couple uneasy laughs.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t like the term moonkissed,¡± said Razia, raising an eyebrow.


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t. But I can no longer deny who, or what, I am. I am moonkissed. If you kill me I will just come back again stronger. And I think I have some unfinished business with the Warlords. I owe Christophe a death.¡± He put his hand on Razia¡¯s and squeezed.


    All around the room, the people were divided. A few people less close to the Garden were uneasy, staring at Quentin like he was dangerous or insane. The others looked on in what Kelli recognized as adoration. She swallowed. This complicated everything. Christophe needed to know about this, but Razia knew she was a spy. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. But only after she got enough information.


    Tricia came around with a bottle of wine and handed it to Quentin, who gratefully took it and drank deeply from the bottle. He made a face and grunted, but when he opened his eyes he looked mostly calm. ¡°I need your help,¡± he said. ¡°If we¡¯re going to take on Christophe and the Warlords, I can¡¯t do it alone. Together we can get justice for Demetrius. War is here, but together we can win it.¡±


    Jonas let out a cheer and the other gladiators followed. ¡°I¡¯m with you!¡±


    ¡°And me,¡± said Bruce, a crooked smile on his face. ¡°Things are way more interesting here than the Colosseum.¡± That got a couple of laughs and another, louder cheer followed by nearly all of that faction volunteering. Not all, but most, that was good to know.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you don¡¯t mean us,¡± one of the gutter girls piped up, laughing.


    Razia answered this one. ¡°You girls know the streets and the taverns better than anyone. You either know everyone or you know someone who knows someone. We¡¯ve got Cicero¡¯s assistance but we could use your help keeping an eye open for any incursions. Things are going to get ugly soon and by helping us, you help yourselves as well. Just think about it,¡± she smiled.


    A murmur passed through the girls, but there was no common consensus. Razia didn¡¯t look bothered by it. Ugh, she was making eyes at Quentin. She was far from the only one. All of them were looking at him, but her, Isa, and Jonas of all people seemed particularly interested in mooning over him.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°So does that mean the ritual worked?¡± Samantha asked.


    ¡°What ritual?¡± Quentin asked, looking around. His eyes stopped at the statue of the Pierced Heart, still looking upwards.


    ¡°Razia led us in prayer and Isa tortured Lucy as a sacrifice!¡± Samantha chirped.


    Quentin made a face and turned to Lucy and Isa. Lucy shrugged, snuggling against Isa. Isa nodded at him. ¡°Sensual torture, for whatever it¡¯s worth. Lucy was a good subject. Razia suggested it and by the gods, I guess it worked. I¡¯ve never felt something like that in my entire life. Felt¡­touched.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± he said, slumping into his chair. He wore a small smile. ¡°Well, I¡¯m incredibly grateful for all of you. It sped my return up. We¡¯ve got a lot of work ahead of us and I¡¯m going to be honest with you all: I¡¯m fucking exhausted. Talk tomorrow. For tonight, party here!¡±


    He got another cheer before Jonas and Bruce helped him up again. Those three and Razia slipped out again, leaving the rest of the peons to themselves. This was probably the perfect time to skip out and have no one question it.


    ¡°This is weird,¡± said Jenna, wrinkling her nose. ¡°Bossman was already scary enough, but everything that happened tonight is¡­I dunno. It¡¯s weird.¡±


    Kelli agreed with her. ¡°He said it¡¯s not a curse, but¡­¡±


    Jenna nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t want any part in a war. Might be time to get out of here sometime if things get too hairy. What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°I like it here,¡± Kelli lied. ¡°I feel like things are going to get better around here now. Once word gets out about all of this, who¡¯d be crazy enough to try to attack someone who¡¯s just going to get back up?¡±


    The background noise grew louder and louder as they talked and the room got more to drink. Now that the shock of the ritual and Quentin¡¯s return had time to settle in and wear off, things quickly turned celebratory. The gladiators especially seemed happy for him to return, although the other girls of the Garden all seemed pretty happy, other than her and Jenna.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to stretch my legs for a bit and wander,¡± said Kelli. ¡°Do you want anything?¡±


    Jenna relaxed in her seat, holding up a still mostly full goblet of wine. ¡°I¡¯m good. I think I just need to think for a while, you know? This is so huge. What if others think he¡¯s cursed and clients stop coming here?¡±


    Then Kelli would die of happiness. ¡°I don¡¯t see that happening. Things¡¯ve been way too busy for them to just dry up now. I give it three days until things are back to normal.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Jenna thought about it. ¡°Huh. Maybe. I guess we¡¯ll see.¡±


    Kelli left her there and wandered around the room. This was the easiest part of doing her job. All she had to do was get close to people and listen. Her power would collect everything she needed to give to her handlers and they¡¯d pass it on to Christophe and Piro. Things were too tense for her to risk going across town now. She took another drink from Tricia and stopped near a couple of gladiators chatting animatedly.


    ¡°...shouldn¡¯t be surprised,¡± one of them said to the other. ¡°I remember seeing him take a spear to the stomach. Right in the guts, and not only did he not die, he was up in two weeks and right back at work.¡±


    His friend shook his head, laughing breathlessly. ¡°Guess he was perfect for his job, wasn¡¯t he? Considering¡­¡± That¡¯s when he noticed Kelli and clammed up immediately. ¡°Can we help you?¡± he asked, turning to her.


    Kelli just smiled and sippeda at her drink. ¡°What was he doing that was so dangerous?¡± she asked brightly. ¡°He doesn¡¯t talk about his past often, but you all seem to know him pretty well!¡±


    The two shared a look. Then the first gladiator cleared his throat. ¡°Training dummy, basically. We¡¯d test ourselves against him and sometimes things got out of hand. That¡¯s why we¡¯re all pissed about Demetrius,¡± he said, looking at his friend.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the second man said, ¡°I was certain he was going to be the next head trainer after Demetrius retired. I guess that¡¯s never going to happen now.¡±


    That was some new information. Was he one of the trainers at the Colosseum when he wasn¡¯t working for Cicero? Kelli guessed that made sense. Most people she knew worked a couple of jobs. Anything to scrape together enough shards to live in this hellhole of a city. It explained how deadly he was. Training with gladiators, killing for Cicero, and maybe immortal. This was already a lot of information, but she needed more.


    They didn¡¯t notice her leave. Kelli wove in and out of the crowd, stopping whenever she heard something that could be promising.


    ¡°...Screw Amicus, honor is more important.¡±


    She had no idea who Amicus was, but it was another nugget of information that could be useful.


    ¡°...expanding soon, and I think it¡¯s not a terrible idea. They¡¯ve already got more girls than they have rooms and¡­¡±


    She knew about this one. It seemed like idle talk, just daydreams of growing larger and larger. They joked about buying out the rest of the block and making a whore¡¯s paradise. There was no way he had the shards to do that, right? Kelli added that info to the pile.


    She crept behind Jonas, facing away from him to pretend she wasn¡¯t eavesdropping. ¡°I think this is a good sign,¡± he said to Bruce. ¡°Everything. I¡¯ve never seen our guys so unified.¡±


    ¡°I think part of it¡¯s overcompensating,¡± Bruce admitted quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the constant buzz of conversation. ¡°We ignored him for years, treated him like a pariah. And I mean, obviously there¡¯s a reason for that but I think a lot of us feel guilty. Shit, I do.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t hold it against anyone, I think. Especially when we¡¯re all on the same side and have a common goal. I hope we can venture south and crack some skulls. The Warlords picked a fight with us. Dumb bastards didn¡¯t know we live for fighting!¡± Jonas laughed and Bruce joined him.


    Kelli made herself scarce, circling the edges of the room, but the conversation was mostly the same. People talking about the Immortal Mr. Q and the future. Some people still talked about the ritual and the miracle they were all a part of, but surprisingly the emphasis was on Quentin¡¯s claim of being god touched. It was something no one could refute, but they also couldn¡¯t agree on what it meant.


    After about twenty minutes of this Kelli returned to Jenna. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to go home,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve got a killer headache and all this noise isn¡¯t helping.¡±


    Jenna made a sympathetic noise. ¡°Get out of here then, and be safe. That ritual¡¯s got me feeling all weird still.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Kelli said honestly. ¡°Gonna go sleep it off. Stay sexy, slut.¡±


    Jenna laughed and toasted her. Kelli gathered her things and stepped out the front door. Someone was waiting there, looking at her hopefully. ¡°Closed tonight,¡± she said. ¡°Come back in a couple days.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, turning around and walking off.


    Kelli watched the man trudge off, taking a moment to catch her breath and think things through. The night was far from over, and she was going to be exhausted by the end of it. But first, she twisted the gem on her enchanted ring. That would give her handler time to meet up with her. All that remained was walking home.


    The spring night was honestly nice, and even felt safe enough if she stuck to the more populated streets. It wasn¡¯t yet late enough for only the degenerates to be out, and Kelli took her time, even stopping to get a snack at a street vendor. Anything to give her handler a bit more time to arrive and to shake off any possible tails. Ever since Razia confronted her, Kelli¡¯s paranoia screamed at her whenever she left the Moonlit Garden.


    The insula she stayed in was halfway down to the river, in a nondescript neighborhood that was safe enough. It was out of the way enough to be safe from accidental discovery, but still close enough to the river to get the fuck out in a hurry if she needed. Her handler was already there, waiting for Kelli. He motioned for her to sit on the bed while he was in the one good chair. She did as she was told, heart pounding.


    Her handler didn¡¯t look like he belonged in a gang. He was a middle aged man with a well trimmed dark beard and nice clothes. Byrne looked more like a fairly comfortable merchant than anything. ¡°Report in,¡± he said.


    And she did. Everything, from the week of waiting to the ritual to Quentin¡¯s return from the dead and conversation. Byrne listened to her without interrupting, save to ask a question to clarify. Halfway through reciting overheard conversations, Kelli allowed herself to relax. This was better than dealing with Christophe and Piro directly. She didn¡¯t feel as if her life was in jeopardy with Byrne.


    ¡°...so, I don¡¯t know what else to say,¡± said Kelli, rubbing her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s immortal or not, but we saw him die and then he was up and about again.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to test it,¡± he said, fishing out a flask and taking a drink. ¡°You¡¯ll continue listening in and avoiding attention as best you can. But when you get a chance to strike, you¡¯re going to poison his wine. We¡¯ll kill him as many times as it takes for it to stick.¡±


    Kelli blanched. She was afraid of that. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn¡¯t see a way out of it. Best case scenario, it would prove he wasn¡¯t immortal and then she could finally leave. Worst case scenario¡­Well, maybe it was better not to think of it.


    ¡°Understood,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± This job was getting worse every day.

 Chapter 95: Rest, Relaxation, and Revenge

    Everything hurt, but it beat being dead. Quentin didn¡¯t know exactly how long he¡¯d been asleep, just that it was for a while. When he woke up, it was with a stretch that was as satisfying as it was agonizing. Surprisingly, he was alone. After the ritual sped up his return, Razia had been by his side up until he needed to pass out for the night, battered but alive. Quentin found he didn¡¯t mind. It gave him time to think.


    The biggest thing of all was how much he revealed to the Garden the night before. Not all of it was intentional, the grogginess making him overshare. But there were still a few moments that were calculated, and those were what he focused on. Like usual, it boiled down to reputation. More and more he understood just how important it was, and what a tool it could be. Most of the shit people believed about him wasn¡¯t true, so why not play with it?


    Let them believe he was immortal instead of just really hardy. They¡¯d whisper it to each other and the clients and soon it would be among Cicero¡¯s men and even the Warlords. Maybe it would even buy him some time while he thought about how he was going to handle that. It was funny, there he was laying in bed and exhausted, but his mind was on fire and had been ever since his chat with death herself. He escaped from death this time, but the experience made him think about what he really wanted and needed.


    Not for the first time, Quentin thought about how this all started, and the transformation he¡¯d undergone. Rather than losing who he was as his life was turned upside down, he found he was discovering more and more of himself that even he didn¡¯t know. He had friends, he had a community, and now even more people were looking to him to lead. It wasn¡¯t scary anymore. It was a heavy responsibility, but it was a challenge to rise up to and embrace.


    Razia slipped into the room with a platter full of fruits, bread, and a meaty smelling stew. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re awake,¡± she said, smiling. Quentin sat up as she came in and set the tray down in his lap. ¡°I thought you might be hungry. And if you weren¡¯t, you will be when you heal up.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°You¡¯re the best.¡± He dug into his food, suddenly ravenous. And for the few minutes it took for him to clear the platter, there was silence. Razia watched him and he waited patiently for her to crack.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± she asked hesitantly, as if she expected him to drop dead again.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± said Quentin. He pushed the tray away and slumped against his headboard. ¡°Tired, in pain, but invigorated. I need to be honest with you though. I was only half telling the truth last night. I¡¯m not immortal. Not really. I can heal from just about anything, but¡­¡±


    He went over his conversation with the Darkstar. From the trade his mother made to his healing burning away what remained of his life, and finally to the offer made to give him power. Razia listened, eyes wide at every new piece of information. When all was said and done Razia climbed in bed with him and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s funny,¡± she said. ¡°When you died but your heart was still going, that¡¯s almost exactly what I told everyone. That you were god touched and can¡¯t die. And then you come back and I was accidentally sort of right. We couldn¡¯t have planned that better if we tried.¡± Then her tone turned serious. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it was all true about you. I know how much that must sting.¡±


    Quentin shrugged, resting his head on hers. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m mostly just relieved I didn¡¯t become a shade. After everything I¡¯ve gone through, what a waste that would be. But it did make me think about a lot of things. Surprisingly, I spent a lot of time thinking about power.¡±


    ¡°Power? You?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Right? I¡¯ve never been one to seek it out but¡­I think I want it. Not for its own sake, but to see what I could do. I want the power to protect the Garden and you. I want power to get revenge for Demetrius and to make sure they can¡¯t hurt any of us ever again. I want the power to change things, and make them better for others. I want just enough power to make it clear that you do not fuck with anything that¡¯s mine.¡±


    Razia turned to look at him, surprised. ¡°Yours, huh? That doesn¡¯t sound like you.¡±


    Quentin smiled, strangely at peace. ¡°Yes, mine. Some of it I chose, some chose me, but in the end it¡¯s my little kingdom. We¡¯ve got a lot of work ahead of us, and I¡¯m tired of waiting for the problem to come to us. I¡¯m going to need your help.¡±


    ¡°Anything you need, obviously, is yours,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m just happy to have you back. I¡­I didn¡¯t react well, when we thought you were dead.¡± She hugged her chest, making herself small. ¡°They thought I cracked, and so did I.¡±


    ¡°Apparently not,¡± Quentin said chuckling. ¡°I¡¯m tired of reacting. I want to strike first. I need you to get one of the girls to do some running for me. I need to talk to Jonas and see how things stand with the other guys. And I need a meeting with Mr. Cicero as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°You got it,¡± said Razia. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Quentin thought about it for a second. ¡°Keep the food coming. I think I¡¯m going to need it.¡±


    He waited until she was gone to try healing again. It wasn¡¯t difficult to picture all of the various aches, pains, and hurts all over his body, but when he did they all throbbed and pulsed. When he tried to focus on healing, all of the pain intensified until the world went white and Quentin fell to the bed, gasping for breath. Nothing felt better. There was just too much wrong to heal it all.


    So Quentin tried something different. He focused on the pain in his stomach and ribs exclusively. The place where Christophe had impaled him with his own sword, burying it deep into his guts. Instinctively he knew that the worst of that damage was already healed, probably when he¡¯d been dead. Ignoring everything else, he focused and felt the now familiar almost muscle memory of actively regenerating damage.


    It hurt, like his stomach was still filled with a blade though the flesh was still mostly knitted together. The seconds stretched on as the pain rose to a fever pitch and all of a sudden was gone, leaving Quentin panting. And then just like that, his sense of being a little too full of breakfast dimmed. He wasn¡¯t hungry yet, but it felt like a part of him emptied, or burned up. No wonder it ate up a little more of his life each time he healed, if it forced the healing and then sped things up.


    Exhaustion hit him like a hammer over the head. Quentin let himself slide back down into bed and closed his eyes. A second later he was asleep. It was the kind of deep sleep where nothing, not even dreams could penetrate and lasted forever until he woke. Then it was like mere minutes had passed, but a look at the light pouring in from the window told him hours went by. His stomach growled. He got up, got dressed, and then headed for the kitchen.


    Jonas was waiting for him in the atrium. Upon seeing Quentin he stood up and came close to him, an unusual look on his face. He looked Quentin up and down. ¡°How¡¯re you feeling Quintius?¡±


    ¡°Alive. Hungry. Give me just one second, yeah?¡± Quentin walked past him, taking a moment to pat his shoulder once before he went to the kitchen. Razia must¡¯ve done as he asked because there was already food waiting for him. He went straight for the wine, taking a long drink from the bottle. Next came a plate filled with tender, shredded meats and more bread and some grapes. He came back out and sat down, digging into it.


    Jonas waited a moment before sitting down next to him. They sat in silence as Quentin devoured his plate. By the end it was too much and he felt bloated. That wouldn¡¯t last too long. He tried something different then, feeling out his aches and pains and then pressing on it more gently. The aches intensified, but nowhere near the blinding, blistering pain from before. To his satisfaction, his healing wasn¡¯t all or nothing. A slower heal could drain over time.


    ¡°So, what was being dead like?¡± Jonas asked brightly.


    Quentin thought about it. Some of it felt like a dream, half remembered. There was his mother, and his talk with the Darkstar, but even those were starting to fade now. His resolve and renewed vigor, on the other hand, only grew. ¡°I was in Orchrisus, but not our Orchrisus. It was always night time and the moon was huge, and things were only real sometimes.¡± Saying it out loud, it sounded stupid.


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    ¡°Huh. That doesn¡¯t sound so bad,¡± Jonas said.


    ¡°Yeah, but I didn¡¯t go through atonement, so who knows how rough it really is.¡± Quentin shook his head. ¡°How are the others handling this? How are you handling it?¡±


    The teenager took a long, deep breath. ¡°Some of us are kinda freaked out. Not scared,¡± he added hastily, ¡°just unnerved. We saw you die. We saw a statue move. And now you¡¯re back and apparently immortal? Some of them don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°What do you believe?¡± Quentin took a long drink.


    Jonas shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. You¡¯re obviously not dead, and I don¡¯t think you¡¯d lie to us. So is that the truth? That you¡¯re touched by the gods and can¡¯t die?¡±


    Guilt gripped Quentin, but he nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t live forever, but I can¡¯t die. Now that I think about it, makes all my worrying during my years as the Butcher pointless. I¡¯d say I wish I had known sooner, but I don¡¯t think I was in a good enough place to accept it until recently. I¡¯ve been chosen by the goddess of death, and by the Pierced Heart.¡±


    Here is where it started. A little half-lie to help build his reputation. Jonas was a good kid, but he was entirely guileless and straight forward. If there was ever a time to beat his chest and scream out his name and make a statement, it was now. ¡°How do you think the boys would feel about an excursion down south to fuck up some Warlords?¡±


    After he got over his surprise, Jonas bared his teeth in a fierce grin. ¡°We¡¯ve already been talking about doing it without you, so if you¡¯ve got a plan, even better. What do you need?¡±


    Quentin put the drink down. He wasn¡¯t a strategist. That had never been his strength, and it wasn¡¯t now. But he knew how to fight, and he knew how to intimidate. ¡°A bunch of pissed off gladiators who don¡¯t mind killing and aren¡¯t afraid of dying. Weapons and armor to outfit them for a good fight, and masks to hide our identities. Razia knows their operation well. We¡¯re going to go for a walk and bloody Christophe¡¯s nose. Let him know he may have killed me but he sure as hell didn¡¯t finish the job.¡±


    Jonas stood straight up. ¡°You¡¯ll have it. Leave it to me, I¡¯ll put together a team. How many do you need?¡±


    He thought about it. ¡°Twenty ought to do it. We¡¯re going to hit some of their bases and we¡¯re going to need the manpower to attack and control the area, but still be able to move around quickly.¡±


    ¡°Just one problem,¡± Jonas said, wincing. ¡°Amicus has been breathing down our necks about working at the Garden. If we¡¯re going to go for a full on assault, he might put his foot down and make us choose. I know some might stick with you, but you WILL lose a lot of potential fighters.¡±


    ¡°Leave that to me,¡± said Quentin, already thinking of solutions. ¡°Request however many shards you need from Razia to cover arming everyone, but we need to be ready as fast as possible. I¡¯m thinking next few days soon.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± said Jonas. He extended his hand and Quentin stood, taking it and the two grinned at each other. Things were different now, and maybe that wasn¡¯t a bad thing. Piro and Christophe had a gang, but so did Quentin.


    After Jonas left, Quentin ran himself a hot bath and let his recovering body soak in the healing waters. It was there that Razia found him leaning back with his eyes closed. She kicked off her sandals and sat next to him, slipping her feet in the pool. Without opening his eyes Quentin wrapped an arm around her legs and hugged her playfully.


    ¡°Meeting with Mr. Cicero tomorrow at noon,¡± she said, running a hand through his hair. ¡°You going to be okay enough to walk around by then?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I¡¯ve never healed this much in one day. It¡¯s exhausting but working. By tomorrow I should at least be good enough to move around, if not fight. Give me two, three days and I¡¯ll be fine. Going to need to be, when we attack. What kinds of places do Piro and Christophe have near the bridge?¡±


    Razia continued to play with his hair. He smiled, leaning into it. ¡°Not many. They¡¯re mostly deeper south, but I can think of a handful of buildings owned by them near the bridge, including a Warlord flophouse where a bunch of their men stay. That might be a place to hit if you want to take a few men out, and maybe steal some shards.¡±


    He opened his eyes and looked at her. ¡°Stealing some shards? That¡¯s¡­¡± Oh, things were just clicking into place now. ¡°That¡¯s perfect. How?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think they changed much of how they operate just because of me,¡± she said, ¡°so chances are they still get paid on the same day. We hit them then and we can kill them and take everything they have. And then you give that pay to the boys?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I was thinking,¡± said Quentin. ¡°They want revenge, but getting to loot our enemies afterward? Unless we get slaughtered, that¡¯ll keep them coming back.¡±


    Razia kicked her legs, pulling away from Quentin a little. The water splashed, sending ripples throughout the bath. ¡°I¡¯m honestly a bit surprised at you,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re really serious about all of this now, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re committing to this. Are you sure it¡¯s really you that came back?¡± She laughed, but he knew she was only half joking.


    ¡°If I had my choice,¡± said Quentin, ¡°I¡¯d spend my nights drinking and playing cards with the girls and maybe us going out for a night on the town once in a while. I don¡¯t want a fight. But fighting is inevitable. It¡¯s become clear to me that that¡¯s what my life has always been and will always be.¡± His thoughts drifted to the Darkstar¡¯s offer. He said no, but that didn¡¯t mean he hadn¡¯t been tempted.


    ¡°The way I see it, if everyone is so desperate to pick a fight with me, I might as well oblige. Sooner or later people will realize it¡¯s a bad idea and we can go back to getting drunk and listen to merchants gossiping and making the same dumb lewd jokes we¡¯ve heard a thousand times. The sooner we finish this the sooner we can focus on just running the Garden and having fun. I¡¯m done hiding in the shadows.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­I don¡¯t know if proud is the right word for it, but you¡¯ve got me excited,¡± said Razia. ¡°Whatever you need from me, I¡¯ll follow your lead. I trust you.¡±


    The next day, Razia brought him to Cicero¡¯s main gambling house, the one they¡¯d first been brought to months ago. When Quentin walked into his office, Mr. Cicero stared at him with undisguised wonder and even a little fear.


    ¡°Gods above,¡± said Cicero, ¡°you were right, Ms. Rashid. Welcome back, Mr. Q. I must say, very few people manage to surprise me as often as you. It¡¯s annoying.¡±


    Quentin just shrugged and smiled, pulling Razia¡¯s chair out for her. He remained standing. Almost all of his aches and pains were gone by now, all for the low low cost of a year off his life. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment. So, we¡¯re now at war. Unless you intend on trying to hand Razia over.¡±


    Mr Cicero shook his head. Stroking his silver beard he said, ¡°No, I don¡¯t think that would be a good idea. After crashing my party, appeasing him with Razia¡¯s lovely head would only make me look weak. Hell, letting them walk away already made me look weak. I¡¯ve spent the last week putting out fires and keeping control, but something has to change. Handing her over would also likely piss you off, and I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m willing to risk that until I have a better understanding of what I¡¯m dealing with. Congrats, Mr. Q. You¡¯re officially a threat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± said Quentin, shaking his head. ¡°I might be dangerous, but I have no ambitions outside my business. As far as I know, we don¡¯t have any problems, do we Mr. Cicero?¡± Mr. Cicero shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m a loyal subject. The more powerful I am, the more powerful you are, right? You get a cut of everything we do and in return we¡¯re connected and have access to your resources. And I¡¯m going to need them to get back at Piro.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Mr. Cicero raised an eyebrow. ¡°Back from the dead and already ready to go? I think you¡¯re right, Mr. Q. This is more likely to benefit me in the long term. What is it you need?¡±


    He and Razia shared a look. For once in their relationship, he had an idea and she made it happen. Together they planned it all out and everything was falling into place. ¡°Transportation and a way for the local Watch to either be elsewhere or look the other way,¡± she said. ¡°Is that doable on the south side?¡±


    Mr. Cicero chuckled. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. I think a distraction is in order to really split the attention of the Watch. Your best bet would be a two pronged attack, with my men striking first to draw attention their way and allow you to strike. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Quentin. He reached over Mr. Cicero¡¯s desk and grabbed a cigar. Amused, Mr. Cicero lit it for him. He took a couple puffs and even managed not to choke this time. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to lean on the owner of the Colosseum. He¡¯s a bastard who might try and take my men out from under me. He could use a little humbling.¡± The last part wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, but after eight years of dealing with his shit, Quentin couldn¡¯t help but take a little personal satisfaction.


    ¡°Not a problem,¡± said Cicero. ¡°Just give me the details and I¡¯ll take care of the rest. Together, I think we can make things too costly for Piro to keep up the fight. With your attack and plans of my own, we can send a message to the entire city.¡±


    Quentin puffed on the cigar, enjoying the flavor. ¡°Together we can put him in the ground and make sure he¡¯ll never bother us again.¡± He put his hand on Razia¡¯s shoulder. No longer did Quentin want to just survive, or for his people to thrive. Now, he wanted it all.


    All throughout the back of his mind, a little voice whispered to him. Twenty years gone. Before he was through, that number was sure to go up and he¡¯d lose more and more time. Who knew how long he had left? It didn¡¯t matter. Now that Quentin knew he was dying, it wasn¡¯t just time to live. It was time to be larger than life.

 Chapter 96: Quentin and His Boys Get Into A Scrap

    Although they were packed in tight, Jonas and the other gladiators were too excited to be uncomfortable. The enormous covered beetle wagon was normally used for transporting merchant¡¯s goods across the continent. This one carried a dozen fighters, as did the other one right behind it. Together, the two teams represented something new. A potential power in the North side, tentatively calling themselves the Shades in honor of their leader, touched by Tsaba.


    They were dressed to match, all of them wearing simple chitin armor with their weapon of choice close by. All of them had a mask at their side, just waiting to be put on. It would cover everything but their eyes, presenting a featureless face painted black and white. On one side was a black orchrisus, and on the other a white crescent moon. Getting them all made in short order had been a pain, but Jonas followed through and now they had something to protect them while they made a statement.


    The cart rolled on silently. The sound of wheels on stone told Jonas they were on the bridge now. Beside him, Quentin sat at the deepest end of the cart, bent over and leaning on his knees, staring at the floor. He wore a troubled expression. Which wasn¡¯t too dissimilar from his normal one, Jonas supposed, except it was more fidgety.


    ¡°Nervous about the job?¡± Jonas asked. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about us. We love a good scrap and we¡¯ve got some pent up aggression just dying to get out.¡± Around him a few others grunted their agreements.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that,¡± said Quentin. He looked around at all of them, frowning as he thought intently. ¡°This is the first time I¡¯m making a choice to kill someone. People I don¡¯t even know. It¡¯s not self defense, and it¡¯s not executing them. I¡¯m going to murder some people for being in a group I have bad blood with. And so are all of you.¡±


    Jonas understood. It was one of the first things that really puzzled him about the executioner when he met him. At first, Jonas figured the job was probably stressful but fun. You got to test yourself while being the star of the show and the people he killed were going to be offed anyway, so no need to worry too much. He hadn¡¯t really understood the cost the killing had. Maybe he couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯ve killed people before,¡± said Jonas, stone faced. He didn¡¯t even think of it often anymore. It had happened, he made a choice he would¡¯ve made again, and then it was over and done with. Time passed, and he¡¯d moved on. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you know this, but I¡¯m an orphan. I ended up on the streets early on. Like, nine.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Quentin admitted.


    Jonas smiled crookedly. ¡°It was rough out there, but I made it. Survival is a good motivation, but sometimes¡­Sometimes you see someone so shit, so awful, so offensive that killing them is doing the world a favor. You do it for others as much as for yourself. That¡¯s how I see what we¡¯re going to do.¡±


    Renee let out a sharp whistle. ¡°I think we can all get behind that,¡± she said, admiring one of her knives. ¡°Some people just need to die, and sometimes you owe someone death.¡± More grunts of agreement. All of them knew there was a chance to die during their fights. One mistake, one blow too good and they¡¯d kill their friends instead of moving on to the next match. Not all the gladiators were so unconcerned about death and violence, but it was a uniting factor.


    ¡°And if we get caught and sent to the Colosseum?¡± Quentin scoffed.


    ¡°Well then,¡± said Bruce, grinning. He was so tall his head nearly scraped the canvas overhead. ¡°Then we all say it was your idea and let you go face off against Cervenka, and then we get right back out here and keep going until we¡¯ve got Christophe¡¯s head!¡±


    They all cheered, and even Quentin smiled at that. He seemed mollified for the moment, but Jonas knew first hand how much a worrier he was underneath the scowl. The beetle lurched forward and the cart bumped as it left the bridge. They were on the south side now. From here the carts would split up and approach the neighborhood from both sides. No one would get away from them today.


    A few more minutes passed. Jonas peeked out the back of the cart. Some people looked in and saw a group of armed men and women and stared. Others made themselves scarce, knowing how rough things could get in Orchrisus at the drop of a hat. As they got closer and closer and the buildings around them grew more rundown, Jonas put on his mask, securing the leather strap tightly. All around him, the rest of the Shades did as well.


    ¡°This is it,¡± Quentin said, voice muffled by the lacquered wood. ¡°You see anyone wearing a red tunic or holding a weapon, you take them out. Unless they¡¯re a small child, in which case you disarm them and scare them off. We get the people on the street first and then make our way in the building. Everyone understand?¡±


    Murmurs echoed around the cart, all in agreement. It was a simple plan, they knew what to do and were eager to do it. Eventually the cart stopped. They held their collective breath, as still as death. The driver let out three sharp whistles.


    Two by two the Shades leapt off the cart and poured into the streets of South Orchrisus. Jonas watched them all go, heart pounding. Then it was his turn and he took off, shield on his left arm and sword on his back. He hit the ground running, drawing his sword and doing a quick scan of the battlefield.


    The highlight of the neighborhood was a massive inn with an entrance on both sides. The Warlord¡¯s flophouse likely used to be a community center with food and laborers available for just about any job. Now it was a big shared dormitory for the Warlords, and a big source of their manpower. In front of the building were several young men and a few women wearing red tunics. They were all armed with something, usually knives but occasionally a piece of real steel, and they were slow to react to the ambush.


    Ajax swung his club right into the first Warlord¡¯s skull. The man dropped, swaying before he collapsed to the ground. The gladiator paused just long enough to finish the job before the battle started in earnest. One of the defenders managed to scream out, ¡°UNDER ATTACK!¡± before a gladiator ran her through. Jonas surged forward, falling upon a man who got his sword out just in time to block before Jonas slammed his shield into him.


    He fell hard on his ass and rolled out of the way of the downstroke that would¡¯ve ended him. Excitement flowed through Jonas like a cat playing with a mouse. Maybe he¡¯d feel guilty later, but the only thing going through his mind right now was a replay of the invasion at the Garden, and how good it felt to strike back. The Warlord on the ground swung wildly. Jonas bobbed out of the way and drew his sword across the man¡¯s throat. He felt only satisfaction.


    All around them, what few civilians on the streets got the hell out of there as fast as they could. An old, bearded man had his hand on two kids in red tunics themselves and dragged them out of there. He knew what was going on and what the attackers were after. Others, too young to fight, took off on their own. The Shades didn¡¯t bother trying to stop them. By now, the cart was empty and all fighters threw themselves into the frey, the evening air full of the sounds of metal on metal and laughter.


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    From the flophouse came the rest of the Warlords. More and more and more until it was clear there were more of them than there were Shades. Jonas grinned from behind his mask. All along the battlefield the fight slowed to a stop, Quentin kicking one person to the ground before looking up at the new wave of enemies. For a second that stretched on forever there was silence. Then Quentin raised his sword in a mocking salute and pointed it at the newcomers.


    The Shades let out a unanimous roar and charged forward, weapons raised.


    What appeared to be the acting leader of the Warlords raised his own steel knife. The warlords raced to meet them head on. The two groups met with a violent crash not far from the doors of the flophouse. Jonas blocked one strike while Bruce stabbed his attacker with a spear. Quentin took a nasty cut along the arm and then stabbed the grinning bastard who did it. Farther on down the line, Ajax roared and broke a hole in the line with his club.


    Little by little, the Warlords fell back towards those doors. They held their own, staying on their feet for the most part and losing men slowly, but they never seemed to be able to get more than a glancing blow against the gladiators. And why not? These bastards were cowards and opportunists. They didn¡¯t know how to truly fight alongside your brothers.


    Jonas cried out wordlessly as he struck his newest opponent with his shield. The other man was a teen, no older than Jonas himself. His face was twisted in rage and held barely restrained fear. He stabbed Jonas, his glass dagger breaking on the hard chitin protecting his middle. Jonas decided to go for it and slammed his head forward into his opponents. The man went down and Jonas barely felt it.


    Then all at once they pushed in further and multiple gladiators trampled the man as they got closer to the flophouse. They struck and moved forward in pulses, like a violent heartbeat closing in on death. By now some of the Warlords broke the line and ran inside. That was the last sign the Shades needed before they went into a frenzy, chasing them inside.


    The inside of the flophouse was a shithole not meant for comfortable living. Beds and hammocks lined the walls, places to sleep with a place for a couple possessions. The center was mostly open, with a number of tables keeping it from being a proper battle arena. There were even more Warlords in here, some still getting dressed and grabbing a weapon. One of them had a cart and was flanked by two men with actual armor on. In the cart were several bulging bags of shards.


    ¡°We hit payday,¡± Jonas shouted to be heard above the battle.


    The guy managing the cart let out a squeak. His two armed guards put themselves between Jonas and their charge. Jonas roared and came at them, drunk on the fight and his own sense of power. Unlike the Warlords, these two were older, hardened, and not impressed with a lone masked man attacking two of them.


    Jonas struck but the man on the right parried. His partner swung a proper sword down. Jonas blocked with his shield, the impact shooting up his arm and losing feeling. He reeled back avoiding the sword coming for him.


    The two men split apart, circling around him and showing no mercy or hesitation. One would strike and make Jonas defend and then the other would come at him from the other side. Jonas¡¯ reflexes held¡­at first. He abandoned himself to his training and instincts, blocking and weaving away from attacks, striking back only to hit air as his opponent moved. There was joy in the fight, in the challenge. Jonas laughed again.


    The next blow he didn¡¯t dodge, and the laughing stopped. One his opponent¡¯s swords cut through the air, barely missing his head. When the man drew it back, he caught Jonas¡¯ ear, the cheek, and the leather strap of the mask. He ripped his hand back hard and Jonas faltered, helpless in that blinding moment of pain and shock. The mask clattered to the ground.


    He saw his own death coming in slow motion. The one who got him was still recovering, but his partner was able to attack. He raised his sword high. Jonas saw the angle, told his arm to move but it wouldn¡¯t cooperate. It came down.


    And then off as Quentin¡¯s sword cleaved through the gap in the armor at the armpit. He had just enough time to look surprised before the sword went through his neck. Jonas recovered from his shock and parried the remaining guard¡¯s oncoming blow. He feinted and the poor bastard bought it. Jonas ran him through with his sword while he was flat footed.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Quentin shouted over the clamor.


    Jonas touched his ear and jerked away with a hiss. His hand came away bloody, and he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn¡¯t be hard to rip part of his ear off. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Behind you!¡±


    Quentin turned in time to see a particularly young looking combatant scream and run at him with his sword held out. He slapped the sword out of his hand and let the boy crash into him, turning and throwing him at the door. ¡°Run away and warn the others,¡± Quentin hissed at him, stalking forward. ¡°Tell Piro and Christophe we¡¯re coming for them.¡±


    The boy didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He scrambled out the door and down the street. Jonas and Quentin shared a bloodthirsty, satisfied grin. Movement out of the corner of Jonas¡¯ eye had him jerk his sword in that direction. The payroll runner froze.


    ¡°Stay where you are,¡± said Jonas, stepping forward. ¡°We¡¯ve got some questions for you. Answer them and you get to walk away!¡± He smiled, doing his best to look friendly and charming. People said he had a good face for it.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the runner sighed, hands in the air. ¡°Sure.¡±


    Jonas turned to the battle, which was already winding down. Their other team had come in through the other entrance and together boxed them in. Some surrendered and lay there face down on the floor, the rest were killed where they stood. Some of the Shades were already going upstairs, but at this point it was just cleanup.


    The entire affair had taken maybe ten minutes from the time they jumped off the cart to finishing up. Jonas was one of a handful that had taken a real hit. Renee was another, hands pressed against a gut wound that probably hurt but wasn¡¯t especially dangerous. Between surprise and ferocity, they¡¯d completely dominated their opponents. All of them had taken some surface level wounds, but only a quarter of them would consider themselves injured. Those were taken back to the cart, including a protesting Jonas.


    Outside, the neighbors watched from the windows of their homes, tentatively peeking their heads out. Bruce ushered Jonas and the others to the cart, keeping a sharp look out for their surroundings. No Watchmen yet. With any luck there wouldn¡¯t be, if they let the Warlords govern themselves it could be another ten, fifteen minutes until the law was there. Hopefully that¡¯d be enough.


    The driver of their cart doubled as their field surgeon. Mitch already had his kit out and gave them a quick lookover. Jonas took that opportunity to catch his breath, doing his best to ignore the hot, wet drip of blood from his ear down his neck, and the fact that he¡¯d lost his mask and now was open to the world. As short as the fight was, exhaustion bore down on Jonas. The kind of tired that satisfied.


    The rest of the Shades didn¡¯t take long. By the time Mitch was done with some basic stitches so Jonas could keep his ear, the rest of them came out lugging a lot of shards with them. But not all of them. Half must¡¯ve gone to the other team. Jonas got out of the way and let them lead up the cart first, piling in one after another.


    Jonas waited until it was just him and Quentin before they hopped in, this time sitting next to the back latch. Jonas whistled sharply and the driver urged the beetles on. They made a wide circuit around the street before heading back the direction they came. Whereas the trip there had been calm, quiet, and slow, this time the beetles hauled ass towards the bridge.


    Quentin slumped back against the side of the cart. He pulled his mask off, sighing. ¡°No going back after this,¡± he said. He sounded tired and signed more than upset.


    ¡°You¡¯re damned right,¡± David said, tilting his head back and howling to the laughter of several of the others. ¡°The Shades first big score!¡±


    Their leader grimaced but nodded. Jonas knew him enough by now to know he didn¡¯t like the name but he wasn¡¯t going to fight it either. They were following him, but in some ways he was just as much following their passions and directing it. Demetrius brought them together and Quentin¡¯s miraculous recovery united them, and now this first victory would cement it.


    Jonas smiled, settling in for the ride back. The Shades were now in business.

 Chapter 97: The Miracle Seeker

    Although she knew it was silly, Razia felt bad about staying home while Quentin and the boys went off to war. It¡¯s not like there was anything she could contribute in a real fight. Razia was not only small and not a fighter, but she knew she¡¯d be an active liability and getting caught would ruin everything. Still, she felt guilty that Quentin and their new friends were out picking a fight while she stayed home where it was safe.


    Razia wasn¡¯t the type to avoid trouble, although she supposed that was starting to change. It was getting harder and harder to laugh and bloody someone¡¯s nose or bruise their ego without it becoming a whole thing. Co-owning her own business forced something on her Razia thought she¡¯d be able to escape forever: responsibility. She couldn¡¯t run from the fact that she was responsible for people now. Just as much as Quentin.


    It wasn¡¯t the only issue. Ever since coming back from the dead (near dead? Mostly dead?) things had been so hectic there hadn¡¯t been enough time to truly spend it together and be grateful for another chance. It made sense with how much there was to do and the whole starting a street war thing, but that didn¡¯t stop Razia from wishing the world would just stand still and let her take a grateful breath with Quentin. Especially knowing that although he couldn¡¯t easily be killed, he was on limited time. How could anyone know that and not want to be close to their partner?


    ¡°Worrying about things isn¡¯t going to make him come home any sooner or safer,¡± Isa said to her, shaking her from her thoughts.


    Like usual, they were sitting around the Atrium. The few girls that were there. They were closed for the day, mostly. It was by appointment only while Quentin and his Shades were out. Occasionally there¡¯d be a knock at the door, or one of the girls would grab a gladiator and go off to their client¡¯s homes, collecting nearly double the price for being willing to travel to an awaiting lech in need. It felt slower than it was, with Razia and Isa the only ones without a client.


    ¡°Not worrying isn¡¯t going to make me worry any less,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make any sense!¡± Isa snapped.


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± Razia had nothing. ¡°You think you have any room to speak? You¡¯re sitting right here with me, worrying away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worrying,¡± Isa scoffed. She looked away, waving her hand dismissively at Razia. ¡°I¡¯m just killing time until things can get back to normal. If they can ever get back to normal after the shit you¡¯ve brought down.¡±


    Almost as one they turned to look at the statue of the Pierced Heart, still reaching for the heavens. Razia shuddered, remembering how it felt when the room buzzed with energy and the ritual felt more real than just about anything else she had done. ¡°There¡¯s no coming back from that. You regret taking part in it?¡± she asked.


    Isa shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t regret that. Not if it helped. I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    ¡°Worried?¡± Razia grinned. ¡°Worrying isn¡¯t going to make the other shoe drop more gently,¡± she teased. ¡°Besides, hasn¡¯t this gotten you more business than usual? Everyone wants to be whipped by the woman who helped bring a man back from the dead.¡±


    ¡°Like I need more business. They all expect a miracle from me, as if I had anything to do with it.¡± Isa hugged herself, looking disturbed in spite of her usual mask of toughness. ¡°Lucy¡¯s had it even worse. People have been treating her like a pain doll, seeing if they can get some kind of holy vision from torturing her.¡±


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t complained,¡± said Razia.


    Isa shot her a withering look. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t. She doesn¡¯t want to disappoint you and she wants enough money to save up and maybe get out while she¡¯s still young. At least she¡¯s not panicking anymore, but I¡¯m telling you, you better keep a guard near her door especially at all times, just in case.¡±


    To Isa¡¯s surprise, Razia nodded along with her. ¡°You¡¯re right. You and her both need increased security and should probably raise your prices, just to avoid getting bogged down. Or you could take a break, if you wanted. You know, maybe explore some personal interests.¡± She grinned again, and it only widened at the pure venom in Isa¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to take the day off,¡± said Isa, getting up. ¡°Not like I¡¯m hurting for shards right now, and I think the company will be better in my room.¡±


    ¡°Should I see if Quentin wants to visit you when he comes back?¡± Razia fluttered her eyelashes at Isa. The dusk-girl growled and left in a huff. Razia fell back into her seat, laughing merrily.


    It was a nice distraction while it lasted, but it didn¡¯t last long. With Isa gone, Razia was left alone with her thoughts, which now included wondering how much time was left for her if Quentin did split his attention. She meant it when she said she had no intentions of being tied down, but there was a difference between being tied down and basking in someone¡¯s company as long as possible. Alone, Razia went into the kitchen and came out with some wine and bread.


    About twenty minutes later, Cullen came in from the street, along with Doug, one of the gladiators. They were laughing about something, but Doug stayed back as Cullen went over to the nearest couch and fell into it.


    ¡°Gods,¡± he groaned in his deep, rumbling voice, ¡°it never ends. I swear, I¡¯ve never slept so well as I have the past week. Everyone wants a piece. Not that I¡¯m complaining,¡± he added, flashing a crooked smile at Razia. ¡°Far from it. It¡¯s nice to have steady work.¡±


    ¡°How was your client?¡± Razia asked, sitting up on her knees. ¡°Anything special or unusual happen?¡±


    Cullen smiled and sat back, looking like a big lazy predator. ¡°Is an hour of cuddling afterwards and a marriage proposal unusual? I think she liked me. Wanted to keep me all to herself.¡±


    Razia laughed. ¡°Oh, I could see it. A big, strong ox like you being a kept boy for some lonely widow. Imagine the uniform she could have for you, just a few wraps of silk and a collar around your neck.¡±


    He reached for his throat, making a face. ¡°Razia, please. I just got here, I don¡¯t need to get so excited I go running back and accept her offer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯re much too valuable to us to be someone¡¯s pet. If need be, I¡¯ll collar and keep you instead.¡±


    His lips twitched in a tiny smile. Cullen had a way of always looking like he was trying to avoid smiling. Between that and his soft manner of speaking, it went a long way towards softening his look. His reputation as a tamed bad boy was rising, and Razia loved to see him come into his own. It was easy for newer hires to not fit in when you had a good close knit group like the Garden was. Growth had been good, and there was still plenty further they could go.


    ¡°Um, excuse me?¡± Doug called back out. He had shaggy brown hair he brushed out of his face. ¡°Razia? There¡¯s this woman here to see you. Says she¡¯s from the temple.¡±


    The temple? Razia caught Cullen¡¯s eye and made a face. He chuckled. At this point everyone at the Garden knew about Razia¡¯s antipathy with the Temple of the Pierced Heart. It was almost a running joke. She was faithful and truly believed, especially after the ritual, but belief wasn¡¯t based on mortal hierarchies and politicking. Razia finished her glass of wine and set the glass down on the floor.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with her,¡± said Razia, sighing. If nothing else, this would be something to occupy her time while Quentin went out and picked a fight for both of them. Isa may have been a bitch, but she wasn¡¯t wrong. Worrying didn¡¯t help anyone. She followed Doug back to the entryway, where a pale, blonde woman waited.


    The woman¡¯s skin was creamy, which only made the spread of tattoos stand out more. Flowers of all kinds lined her arms, all attached to a vine wrapping around her biceps in a spiral going up to her wrists, where her palms were two spread Orchrisus¡¯. In spite of herself, Razia found herself impressed. It took a special kind of dedication and fortitude to dedicate your body to art and worship, and Razia would know. Every one of her piercings meant something.


    ¡°Damn,¡± said Razia as she closed the difference, ¡°it¡¯s not often I see a priestess who looks like she enjoys being art. Are you sure you¡¯re from the temple? You don¡¯t look like you have a pole up your ass.¡±


    The blonde woman burst out laughing and then caught herself, embarrassed. ¡°Wow. They weren¡¯t kidding when they warned me about you. I was expecting a bit of a warm up before you started in.¡±


    ¡°Aww, they talk about me?¡± Razia clutched her chest theatrically. ¡°Warn, even? Nice to know I made a big impact. What else did they say?¡±


    The woman shook her head, chuckling. ¡°Just that you spit acid, have a venomous bite, and that your ego could blot out the sun. I don¡¯t know about the last part, but the other two sound believable. My name is Maralana. I¡¯m here about a potential miracle.¡± She offered her hand.


    In spite of herself, Razia took it. ¡°Razia Rashid, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware. You came to the right place. The Pierced Heart visited the Garden and gave their blessing. And I¡¯ve got three dozen eyewitnesses who can back me up.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s a big claim,¡± said Maralana, smile faltering. ¡°And why they sent me.You¡¯ve pissed off a lot of people in high places, Razia, including in the temple.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, they can get in line to kiss my ass,¡± Razia replied brightly. ¡°I¡¯ve got much bigger problems than some stuffy stuck up people who think they¡¯re better than everyone. Gods, you people aren¡¯t even in my top three worries.¡±


    ¡°Reconsider,¡± said Maralana with a grimace. ¡°You don¡¯t want the negative attention they could visit upon this place. Look, let¡¯s focus on the miracle, yeah?¡±


    This was Razia¡¯s chance to pick a fight, to piss someone powerful off and laugh about it. It should¡¯ve been an easy decision to go for it, if only for a way to pass the time while Quentin was gone. She could picture the exasperated look on his face if he saw her now. Maybe that was why she decided to behave. ¡°The miracle, sure. Come on in.¡±


    Maralana craned her head, looking around the villa as they made their way in. Razia slowed down to allow the priestess to get a good look in. ¡°This place is much cleaner and nicer than I was expecting,¡± she said, stopping at an enormous potted plant with bright orange fronds. ¡°And tasteful too. I love it.¡±


    ¡°Why would you expect any different?¡± Razia didn¡¯t hide her irritation. ¡°Did you expect some filthy shithole?¡±


    The priestess flinched. ¡°No, gods no, that¡¯s not what I meant. Do you have any idea how many whorehouses I¡¯ve investigated that have claimed some kind of blessing or miracle? Most of them aren¡¯t dirty, but they¡¯re not pretty either. Some are comfortable, but this kind of house and care for aesthetics isn¡¯t common. If there was a miracle, I¡¯m glad it was here and not somewhere else.¡± She smiled. ¡°Take the damned compliment.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I can understand that.¡± Razia gestured to the room and said, ¡°I¡¯ve worked in places like those. I wanted something better. Quentin and I work our asses off to provide a clean, safe, tasteful experience to our patrons. And I personally pray and dedicate my work to the Pierced Heart. I know at least a few others do the same. We honor them as you do.¡±


    Maralana held out her hands, displaying twin flowers. ¡°I believe you. I know you have your problems with members of the faith, but I am not them. I respect what you are doing here. I even respect you, despite how difficult you¡¯re making it.¡±


    Shit. Razia frowned. She was right, Razia was making it hard for no reason. All because of her stupid pride. This wasn¡¯t an enemy, she was a potential ally. Taking a deep breath, Razia bowed her head. ¡°You¡¯re right. You¡¯re not them. They¡¯ve left an impression on me that has me defensive. Forgive me.¡±


    Maralana nodded her way and walked by, brushing her hand against Razia¡¯s arm. Together they went into the atrium. It was still just them, and the priestess immediately went to the statute. She reached out, stopping just shy of touching it. Razia watched from a few feet away, studying her expression. Maralana went from surprise to rapturous joy in seconds.


    ¡°Gods, I can feel it. I can feel them.¡± Her hands shook until she pulled them away.


    ¡°It was like nothing I¡¯ve ever experienced,¡± said Razia, brightening up. ¡°Everyone could feel it. There¡¯s no question it was real. And then, when the ritual was concluded, the statue moved and we felt them here, for just a second. And then the Pierced Heart was gone.¡±


    The statue stood there, unmoving. Razia didn¡¯t know what she expected. For the statue to strike a pose or get hard or have a conversation, maybe. Nothing happened, but she could swear she still felt something from the statue. And evidently she wasn¡¯t the only one. Maralana¡¯s fingers kept twitching the closer they were to the statue, but she didn¡¯t dare touch it.


    ¡°Tell me about this ritual,¡± she said, eyes locked on the statue¡¯s featureless face.


    Razia came up beside her. ¡°Well, it started with noticing the date and a man halfway between life and death¡­¡±


    In the all too brief moments shared with Quentin after his return, they¡¯d discussed it and decided to go with as close to the truth as possible. Not only would they not have to agree upon a lie, they could let the information work for them. So Razia told her almost everything, leaving out the part where Quentin claimed to be immortal and would¡¯ve come back to life on his own eventually. By the time Razia was done, Maralana needed to sit down.


    ¡°So,¡± said Razia, refilling her wine and offering the glass to the priestess, ¡°Do you see many real miracles?¡± she asked.


    With a shaky hand Maralana took it and drained the glass. That settled her nerves some. ¡°Some. A few every year. None quite this big or impactful. You really brought your dead lover back to life? You must see how skeptical we all are of that claim.¡±


    Of course Quentin had to be out right when his presence would lend some credence. Or maybe it wouldn¡¯t and Maralana would blame it on being touched by the Darkstar. It wouldn¡¯t be wrong, but it would be inconvenient. Having an actual bona fide miracle happen in the Garden was sure to give their business a boost and was likely to protect them. More reputation to use as a shield. Razia took the wine glass back and filled it.


    ¡°We really did. We kept his body and made sure to help keep it from rotting. A week passed as we gathered the objects needed for the ritual and made sure we had enough people. The ritual completed, the statue moved, and Quentin came back to life.¡± Razia took a sip, smiling. It was nice to be taken seriously, even if it was accompanied by question after question. ¡°Like I said, there were dozens of eyewitnesses who watched Quentin die and almost as many who took part in the ritual.¡±


    ¡°But no one was actually there with Quentin when he supposedly came back to life?¡± Maralana pressed.


    Razia paused. ¡°Technically not. As soon as the ritual was over I ran in there and he was breathing again. I know what I saw.¡±


    Maralana looked at the statue again. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she mulled over what she was going to say. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the results of some miracles. I¡¯ve seen a young woman survive a beating from a rapist that would¡¯ve ended anyone and all the pain she received was dished back out at him. That was real.


    ¡°I¡¯ve talked to a man who was born with¡­Underdeveloped bits. Years of going to the temple and praying and he became the envy of the neighborhood. Trivial and petty as that was, that was a real miracle.¡± Maralana took a deep breath. ¡°Do you know why I¡¯m the one they send to investigate miracles?¡±


    Razia had a suspicion. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°I was born on the spring equinox,¡± said Maralanna, confirming those suspicions. ¡°They say I¡¯m touched, and I can sense other things touched by our god/ess of in between. I can feel the blessings the priests given out, and the little rivulets of power trickling off of them. I can sense when someone or something has been touched by the gods. I¡¯m drawn to it. What you have here is a real miracle,¡± she said. ¡°One of the most powerful ones I¡¯ve felt.¡±


    ¡°Exactly as I thought,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°Which is a problem,¡± Maralana sighed. ¡°Some of the higher ups really, really don¡¯t care for you. Apparently you used a temple service to try to drum up business?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to bribe a man to save a woman¡¯s life, but okay,¡± Razia returned with a frosty smile. ¡°Sister Sylvia caught me and decided what happened without speaking to me about it.¡±


    Maralana held her flowered hands up. ¡°Look, all I know is you sucked a man¡¯s dick during temple services and you and your lover apparently were acting threatening to some of the acolytes. The point is, you¡¯re not a very popular figure with the priesthood right now. I¡¯m going to be honest. I¡¯m going to declare that this wasn¡¯t a miracle.¡±


    Maybe it really was a sign that she was maturing and thinking things through, that she didn¡¯t immediately go on the offensive or say something to try to get into the priestess¡¯ skin. Instead all of Razia¡¯s irritation collapsed to a fine, inescapable point. From that tight anger came a single word. ¡°What?¡±


    The priestess stood up and paced in front of the statue. Being near it seemed to both agitate her and give her some bravery. ¡°People higher than me have made it clear that if there was a real miracle based around your actions, there¡¯s going to be a problem. Especially if people start seeing you as touched by divinity, a viable alternative to the temple.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Razia said, heat building up throughout the entirety of her body. ¡°You¡¯re going to declare this a non-miracle because the church is threatened by a singular whorehouse run by someone they have a mild disagreement with?¡±


    Maralana shook her head fiercely. ¡°No, I¡¯m going to declare this a non-miracle to protect you, Razia. If I admit that this was not only real but the strongest miracle I¡¯ve felt in years, you¡¯ll be under a lot more scrutiny. Not everyone who works for the temple is a good person. Some are very protective of the sanctity and dignity of the church. Do you understand me?¡±


    Yes, Razia understood perfectly well. If this was a real miracle and if they had to deal with it, chances are there would be more people after her life. It would be more convenient to shut her up than have to deal with a rival, no matter how small. Well, tough shit. It seemed to her like the temple was the problem, not her. ¡°Say what you have to. I¡¯ll never shut up about this miracle,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°Good. I hope you don¡¯t. What you experienced is special,¡± Maralana finally risked touching the statue. It was like a wave passed over her. Her eyes turned pure white. Razia almost was alarmed, but there were few things about the statue that could surprise her at this point. When Maralana removed her hand, color returned to her eyes and she shuddered violently. ¡°There¡¯s a piece of them in this statue left behind. I can feel it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever turn away from how real this is,¡± Maralana insisted. ¡°Claim it¡¯s a miracle to your dying day. Never let the truth be buried. But as far as the temple is concerned, it¡¯s a false alarm. That¡¯s the way it has to be. Do you understand me?¡±


    Razia nodded. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t like it, but I understand. You bastards should be trying to get in good with me and see why we were chosen.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± said Maralana gently. ¡°And I hope you understand what I¡¯m doing is for your benefit. You may have some quarrels with the temple, but I have no quarrels with you. And if you ever need to return to the temple for any reason, even if it¡¯s just worship¡­Ask after me, and I¡¯ll make sure you can get in.¡± She offered her hand once more.


    Razia took it. ¡°I appreciate that. I just may take you up on it some time. Is there anything else I can do for you?¡±


    Maralana smiled. ¡°Just keep doing whatever you¡¯re doing. If another miracle happens, maybe that can fix things with the temple. They won¡¯t be able to ignore you then, for better or worse.¡±


    After the miracle seeker left, Razia collapsed into Quentin¡¯s plush chair. She was still worried about him and the raid, but now she had plenty to think about on her own. Just as they were starting to deal with one problem, another was popping up. If nothing else, maybe Maralana proved the temple wasn¡¯t without redeeming qualities. Just one person could hardly change an entire institution, but Razia knew the value of a well placed friend.


    So what if the miracle was denied? There was no denying what happened there, and how it changed them. Razia had to take it as a good sign going forward. It let her see a future without Christophe and Piro, without being attacked. A future where a simple whorehouse could be a real place of worship. Razia smiled. Now there was a place to start.


    And maybe it would still piss someone off in the end. Fingers crossed!

 Chapter 98: The Ravenous Shades

    The Shades took up all of Maggie¡¯s Den and then some, with some sitting on tables outside. Maggie hadn¡¯t been especially pleased to see such a large group and was even less pleased when that many people coming in drove away her other customers. All it took was flashing a sack of shards in her direction and she changed her tune quickly. She, her daughter, and their few employees got to work quickly, cooking up a storm and rolling out the drinks.


    Quentin needed one. The operation was not only a success, it went better than he expected. He¡¯d been all too ready to have someone die and then for his boys¡¯ collective resolve to drop to nothing. And hell, maybe that would still happen in the future. Since there was going to be a future after this. The loud buzz of conversation and excitement made that perfectly clear. Quentin clutched his drink closer to himself and listened in on some of the overlapping conversations.


    ¡°...you see what I did to that big guy with the club? He dropped and fell like a¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they get. Next time, we¡¯ll go after¡­¡±


    ¡°Jinnis took a nasty hit. I think he might lose the eye, but he¡¯s not too fussed. Says it¡¯ll just make him look¡­¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t understand it. Not one bit. Well, he understood wanting revenge against Christophe. He shared that. But after years of being isolated from them, they were doubling down on being at his side. The memorial for Demetrius was a startling change, but nothing compared to the following three weeks of hanging around the Garden and escorting companions to their dates. Things just clicked into place in a way that felt too good to be true. Apparently it wasn¡¯t such a long journey from accepting him to being willing to kill for him.


    That was the part he had trouble with. Was it just revenge, or were these men the same as countless others in the Orchrisan underworld, just looking for an excuse to be fierce and unforgiving? It all came back to a familiar problem to Quentin. If violence was inevitable, didn¡¯t it fall on him to direct it to the best possible outcome, with as little collateral damage as possible? It¡¯d been one thing when he was an executioner, killing whoever they threw at him. Now he was the one making the decision. This was what it meant to have and defend power.


    His stomach growled. Early he¡¯d taken a couple minor hits that no longer troubled him. Quentin was always hungry these days. Who knew how long it would take to catch up on healing back up from the outskirts of death? He finished his drink, slamming the mug down on the table.


    ¡°Everything okay?¡± Jonas asked from beside him. His right ear and neck were bandaged up tightly, stained with some blood seeping through. Quentin grimaced. Jonas got that injury because of him.


    ¡°Just thinking,¡± he said. Then he realized his speaking had the rest of the table looking at him, waiting to continue. Just four people, four friends, hanging on his words. Gods, this was somehow weirder than when the girls started listening to him. ¡°We did good today, and got away with only a few scratches. But what about next time? How often are people going to be willing to risk themselves to hurt a few bastards who are bound to hit back?¡±


    Renee raised her drink. ¡°Well, as one of those people with a few scratches, I¡¯m game for some more fun. Street gangs are shit and we¡¯re doing a good thing cleaning the city up from them, yeah? She took a long drink of beer and let out an impressive belch.


    Bruce snickered. ¡°Girl? We are a street gang now. What do you think we just did? We went out and fucked up a bunch of people for being our enemy.¡± He met Quentin¡¯s gaze, nodding with understanding. ¡°You¡¯re wondering who else we¡¯ll end up fighting.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Quentin. ¡°And if we¡¯re only fighting one group of people, how long is this going to last? How long until people get bored or discouraged and we¡¯ve pissed off people who will keep coming after us? We going to just keep it up until the Warlords are gone forever, or until they¡¯ve done enough damage to keep us from coming back at them?¡±


    The table thought about it. David cleared his throat for attention. ¡°I can¡¯t speak for anyone else obviously, but I want to keep going until the gang is gone. I definitely want Christophe dead, and maybe that other guy.¡±


    ¡°Piro,¡± Quentin supplied. ¡°According to Razia, he¡¯s more dangerous long term, but Christophe is a bigger threat to us right now. Let¡¯s say we manage to kill Christophe. What then?¡±


    Renee shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s always still taking shifts at the Garden, right? Good money for easy work, even when we gotta walk the girls somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d argue that it¡¯s more fun that way,¡± said David. ¡°Get to go out and see the city and have to keep your eyes open. Not as much fun as a big brawl like today, but good enough.¡± He boxed the air, grinning at memories from earlier.


    Jonas gestured to the rest of the table. ¡°See? Nothing to worry about. I think things are looking really good right now, and there¡¯s plenty of places to go in the future.¡± The table cheered their agreement.


    ¡°Hell,¡± said Bruce, sitting up straight with a serious look on his face. ¡°There were all those girls we took to the party that don¡¯t have a place to go or anyone looking out for them. Maybe we can set up a few of us to watch out for a few of them at inns and taverns and the like. Spread out a bit and keep things going.¡±


    The idea made Quentin freeze in his tracks. He had a picture in his mind of the Moonlit Garden and the surrounding areas. First it was just the Garden, and then nearby places standing out. An entire swathe of North Orchrisus under his and Razia¡¯s banner. Not just being a small, focused brothel for an increasingly wealthy clientele. Having a big slice of the whole thing. Exactly what Razia had gone for down south, and here the opportunity was throwing itself at them.


    ¡°I need to step outside,¡± said Quentin, standing suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m okay, just need some air. Come get me if the food arrives.¡± That got him a few laughs. He pushed his way through the crowded room, stopping to clasp some Shades on the shoulder and compliment the work they did that day on his way out. It was getting to be second nature now to praise the people under him.


    The spring evening was pleasant, with a good breeze defeating some of the lingering heat from a fairly warm day. Quentin pressed himself against the front of the building, rubbing at his eyes as he thought about the day, and how far he was going.


    It had been so easy to team up with Razia and Cicero to plan all of this and think about how it would benefit them. Now that it was over, regrets and fears had him by the throat and squeezed. Things were opening up for them, but was that a good thing? No one feared the first few drops of rain, but how easily that rain could turn into a raging flood and carry away those foolish enough to disregard it. Power was in his grasp, real power, and¡­


    And if he wanted real power, Quentin would¡¯ve taken the Darkstar up on her offer. He would¡¯ve become something more than human in order to crush his foes and protect the people he cared for. But this power, this was power any man could potentially have. It was different. He wasn¡¯t the type of person to seek it out for his own sake, but damn he still wanted it for practical reasons. But what would the eventual cost be? When would enough be enough?


    Bruce¡¯s idea was good. That was the problem. They could make the Moonlit Garden synonymous with pleasure and class for half the city. They could take and take and take and then build. He thought of the other pimps he¡¯d met. Raquel, Aziz, and Henry. Aziz would be just fine, there would always be a market for women who couldn¡¯t say no. Raquel was primarily a thief as far as Quentin knew, and Henry had warned him about getting too greedy. What about the other pimps of the city? How big would he make the target on his back?


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    ¡°How you doing, Mr. Q?¡± a voice shook Quentin from his thoughts. ¡°You here to join us for a smoke?¡± Roscoe and some of his friends were around a table, passing around an ornate pipe.


    ¡°Just getting some air and clearing my thoughts,¡± said Quentin, waving him off.


    ¡°This is good for both,¡± said Doyle, grabbing the pipe and holding it out for him. ¡°Just a couple quick puffs and you¡¯ll be way more relaxed.


    Quentin sniffed the air. He was familiar with how dream weed smelled but had never tried it before. Well, as far as substances went, this one was mostly harmless. ¡°Hell,¡± he said. ¡°Life¡¯s too short. Why not?¡± He took the pipe amidst some exaggerated cheers and took a deep puff.


    Fire stirred in his throat, going down to his lungs. It wasn¡¯t unpleasant. He let out his breath and a big cloud of smoke wafted into the air. A second later he dissolved into a coughing fit.


    ¡°Whoo! There you go,¡± said Roscoe as he took the pipe back. ¡°First hit¡¯s always the hardest, yeah? Kicks in quick though.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t lying. Maybe it was being unused to it, maybe it was the big puff he took, but Quentin got hit with a sensation like a very gentle drunkenness. Not sloppy or out of control, just¡­relaxed. Like the entire world was going just a bit slower and he had time to think about everything. Picture it all in his head.


    ¡°Huh. Not bad,¡± he admitted, reaching for the pipe again. That got him some laughter and cheers as he took another puff and felt his worries slip deeper down. They weren¡¯t gone, but they weren¡¯t crowding him either.


    ¡°On second thought, maybe it¡¯s okay to have this at the Garden,¡± said Quentin, stifling a laugh. He wouldn¡¯t let himself be a complete fool, but damn this was a good sight better than just drowning in anxiety.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we love to hear,¡± the third man, Bruno said. ¡°The girls will like it too. And the customers. Shit, who doesn¡¯t love some dream weed?¡± It was his turn for the pipe. He took a huge rip and blew it out at some people walking in front of the restaurant, laughing at their irritation.


    ¡°What is it you guys are looking for?¡± Quentin asked as soon as the question entered his head. ¡°In general, I mean. Like, what are you looking to get out of being a¡­a Shade.¡± He had mixed feelings on the name but it fit too well and just added to his own mythology.


    They thought about it briefly. ¡°Fun, fights, and fucking,¡± said Roscoe with a shrug. ¡°Between this and the Colosseum, I¡¯m plenty busy and having fun the entire time.¡±


    ¡°It''s the girls,¡± Doyle said. ¡°It¡¯s nice not having to chase them, even if we still gotta pay. It¡¯s like having a girlfriend without having to deal with all the beetleshit involved with keeping one happy.¡±


    Bruno took another hit, falling backwards dramatically in his chair. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t say no to more money for drugs,¡± he said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how often we¡¯ll do something like today,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I¡¯m thinking no more than once a week, on top of shifts at the Garden. And Bruce brought up sending you boys out to taverns and inns and having you look out for more girls there.¡±


    ¡°Shiiiit,¡± Doyle said as Roscoe let out a whistle. ¡°Now there¡¯s an idea. Gladiators and whores everywhere, bringing in those shards. Yeah, I¡¯d be down for that.¡±


    ¡°If I did that,¡± said Quentin, mostly thinking out loud at this point, ¡°I¡¯d need to trust people to live up to my standards. I¡¯m not going to stand for anyone treating these girls poorly. Would hate to have everyone in high spirits like this and have to take someone¡¯s head for getting too grabby or pushy.¡±


    Bruno set the pipe down. They all looked a little uneasy. ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Bruno said, forcing a laugh, ¡°obviously we know better than that. You could trust us for that job. Well, you could trust me. Maybe not Doyle. The man is high entirely too often.¡±


    ¡°I am not you son of a¡­!¡±


    They descended into bickering. Smiling, Quentin waved to Roscoe and headed back inside. He walked right into the wall of noise and let it wash over him. The dream weed made it a little less overwhelming. There in the entryway, he took a good long look at his new gang and how well everyone was getting along. No one looked sad or upset, not even those who were injured. And chances are they¡¯d be even happier sooner. Quentin went to the corner, where shards were being counted.


    ¡°How are things looking so far?¡± he asked Danny and Keith, who were taking care of their stolen loot.


    Danny adjusted his spectacles and held up a bulging sack of shards. ¡°We did well today. Really well. We¡¯re not done counting, but it¡¯s looking like there¡¯ll be enough to give every man in here 10 aquilos, with about 220 or so going to you after all is said and done.¡±


    Quentin blinked, unsure of what to say. Sure, he expected to pull in a decent amount of shards for this endeavor, but this was¡­More than enough to cover what he spent outfitting the men and what Cicero probably spent making sure the Watch was elsewhere. It would be a profit for them all, even after Cicero¡¯s hefty cut. ¡°Well, shit,¡± he said, laughing. ¡°What¡¯re you going to spend your share on?¡±


    ¡°Well, this is the last bit I needed for a house,¡± said Keith, staring blankly into the distance. ¡°So I guess I¡¯m getting a house and getting married. Fuck, I¡¯m out of excuses.¡±


    Quentin laughed and slapped his shoulder. ¡°At least you¡¯ll have a place of your own. Few things better than that. Think I should tell the men what they¡¯re making?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± said Danny. ¡°If you want them to go nuts and get shitfaced and destroy things. We¡¯re not exactly known for our impulse control.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve all earned it,¡± he said. That was definitely the dream weed talking. Quentin couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that if he wasn¡¯t relaxed he might¡¯ve heeded the warning and just handed out the money silently as they left for the night. That would¡¯ve been a whimper after a bang of a day. They couldn¡¯t have that, now could they?


    Quentin found himself standing in the center of the restaurant, raising his hands in the air. It got quieter as the people closest to him stopped talking and watched him, waiting. Eventually others noticed and he had the attention of the room. His gang, Maggie and her staff, everyone. He cleared his throat and let the words come as they would, concerns over sounding stupid not holding him back.


    ¡°You all did well today. We crossed the bridge and we kicked their asses!¡± The entire room burst out with cheers. Quentin grinned, letting himself enjoy the moment with them. ¡°The Warlords lost an entire crew worth of people, and we robbed their asses blind!¡± More cheers, along with Maggie staring at him with pursed lips.


    ¡°It is my great pleasure to tell you that everyone in here is walking away with ten aquilos night!¡± The resulting scream nearly bowled Quentin over. It was roughly five times what they¡¯d make during one of their bigger fights. They were all well paid when it was their turn to fight, but there were a lot of gladiators to rotate through to keep the crowds freshly entertained. Two fights a month would cover all their expenses and leave them comfortable. Ten at once was life changing.


    He waited for the screams to die down before continuing. ¡°I can¡¯t promise you every time will pay that well, but it will pay you. We¡¯ve bloodied Christophe¡¯s nose, and he¡¯s going to want payback after this. So take your shards, have some fun, but keep your heads on and know that as soon as tomorrow he might come for us. We¡¯ve got a long fight ahead of us and we have to stay vigilant. But I think as long as we stick together, we¡¯ll be unbeatable! So have fun, dinner and drinks are on me!¡±


    This time the noise did bowl Quentin over. He smiled, waving as he got out of the center of the room and went back to his table. Jonas had a fresh drink for him, which he gratefully took and drained half of it. ¡°Gods, talking in front of people never gets any easier,¡± he said, knowing it wasn¡¯t true. It had gotten way easier, but it still scared him.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing fine,¡± said Jonas, toasting him. ¡°Here¡¯s to another good fight, and many more to come. Things are looking up for us all!¡±


    That¡¯s what Quentin didn¡¯t trust. The moment he got comfortable, that usually meant the rug was about to be pulled out from under him. Ever since Demetrius was killed, everything seemed to be going faster and faster, picking up pace until it was all Quentin could do to hold on and steer. It scared him, but looking around at the dozens of faces in Maggie¡¯s Den who were on his side, fighting for him¡­It gave him hope and confidence. It gave Quentin a sense of real strength, something he could believe in.


    Quentin lifted his mug. ¡°To the Shades,¡± he said.


    All around the table people echoed ¡°to the Shades!¡± and clinked their mugs together.

 Chapter 99: A Poisonous Presence

    The miracle seeker bothered Razia. Maybe bothered was the wrong word, but Razia didn¡¯t know how else to describe it. It had been nice to find a member of the temple who wasn¡¯t a complete asshole, but it was more than that. The other priestesses and priests looked at Razia and saw only what their disgust and judgments told them. Maralana looked at her like she saw her, and recognized her as a peer.


    And the offer she made. Being able to go back to the temple and pray and offer her gratitude sounded better than she expected. Although maybe she didn¡¯t have to. Razia stared at the statue, as she had ever since the miracle. She¡¯d already proved the Pierced Heart was listening and aware of them. Who was to say this statue was any less holy than the one at the temple? Maralana told her to be open about what she experienced, so why not offer similar services?


    Maralana warned her about pissing off the temple, and for once Razia considered restraint. Maybe there was a way to do it without directly bothering them. Maybe a secret option for the most dedicated clients, with her and the girls performing their own little rituals and prayers. Then she could show the miracle seeker and see her reaction then. See if she meant it when she said she respected Razia¡¯s faith, or if she really was a temple loyalist.


    ¡°Hey Razia! What¡¯s got you smiling so wide?¡± Samantha walked in from the gardens and stood by the couch next to her.


    ¡°Just thinking of being a pest to someone,¡± Razia replied. ¡°I¡¯ll probably behave for now until we¡¯ve dealt with the Warlords.¡± Razia sat up and Samantha took the spot where her legs had just been.


    ¡°They¡¯re still not back yet? You getting worried?¡± Samantha pulled Razia into a one armed hug. Razia allowed herself to be squished.


    ¡°Not really,¡± she said after pulling away. ¡°I¡¯m more worried about Jonas and the boys than anything else. Quentin will be fine, and he said that they¡¯d probably go out for something to eat when they were done.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Samantha, ¡°they¡¯ll be back late if something went wrong or if something went right?¡±


    ¡°Well, when you put it like that maybe I should worry,¡± Razia playfully slapped Samantha¡¯s arm. The two of them shared a laugh Razia needed. ¡°But no, I¡¯m not worried.¡±


    ¡°Because Quentin can¡¯t die?¡± Samantha asked.


    ¡°Pretty much. And because I know how good he is. Unless Christophe himself shows up, things will be fine. Hey, how did your appointment go?¡±


    The redhead¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. She practically vibrated in her seat. ¡°It was incredible! The whole miracle thing is doing wonders for business. The entire time he wanted to worship my body to try to gain any lingering blessings! He spent the entire time focusing on me, which was nice. Until I got kinda bored and wanted to finish things up, but he seemed happy enough.¡±


    Razia smiled. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic. For you and for him. Who was it this time again?¡±


    ¡°Oscar Harrington,¡± said Samantha, puffing herself up to look important. ¡°Carolasan general. He and his men were coming here to trade for some weapons and medicine for a war going on back west with Cartinia. Maybe that¡¯s why he wanted a blessing so badly. How dumb is war?¡±


    Given they were in one, kind of necessary sometimes. But Razia smiled and said, ¡°Pretty dumb. Think of how much better it would be if girls like us were in charge. There¡¯d still be fighting, but it would be over important things instead of worrying about¡­What¡¯s this war about again?¡± Razia was usually better about current events, but there was something about Cartinia that repelled her and kept her from paying as much attention.


    Samantha shrugged. ¡°Something about expanding territory, I don¡¯t know. The general¡¯s convinced that the other guys are the problem, so I dunno what to believe. It¡¯s not my problem, right? I¡¯m just here to be divine and pass on the blessings of the gods.¡± Samantha preened proudly.


    ¡°Damned straight,¡± said Razia. Idly, she wondered how much different the ritual would¡¯ve been if it had been Samantha instead of Lucy. Less connection, less innocence being sacrificed on display, but maybe the enthusiasm would¡¯ve made a difference. No, she shook her head, it was silly to ruminate on the ritual. It was over, they were blessed, it was time to move on.


    ¡°Are you busy at all?¡± Razia asked, looking around at the mostly empty Garden. ¡°Quentin and the men are gone and we¡¯ve only got a few people here to escort the girls, I¡¯m going crazy without anything to do.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Samantha with a shake of her head. ¡°I¡¯ve got one more appointment for the day and he¡¯s probably going to take up a couple of hours.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± Razia remembered it. Rocco was coming back for another round with Samantha. Over the past three months, he¡¯d requested Samantha at least once a week, usually twice depending on how often he came around. As far as Razia knew, whoring was his main hobby and sometimes he paid extra to take a girl or guy out on a date somewhere in the city. He was safe enough.


    ¡°But if Quentin¡¯s not back after that, then¡­¡± Samantha grimaced. ¡°You¡¯ll probably be way too worried to want to do anything.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± said Razia, sighing. She stood up and stretched. ¡°Not that I¡¯m worried, of course. I¡¯m not. But the boredom is starting to get to me. I should¡¯ve been there, at least watching from the carts. But nooo, I would¡¯ve been a ¡®liability¡¯ and split their attention. Feh.¡± She knew it was smart, but that didn¡¯t mean she liked having to go with the smart decision.


    Samantha said nothing at first, lost in thought. Razia knew the look because Samantha¡¯s face screwed up and the tip of her tongue idly stuck out the corner of her mouth while she worked things out. Finally she looked up at Razia with a mischievous grin. ¡°You could always join me for my appointment if you really want to pass the time. I don¡¯t think Rocco would mind.¡±


    Ooh, now there was an idea. She hadn¡¯t been lying to Isa when she said Quentin and her had a talk about exclusivity after Cicero¡¯s men swarmed the Garden. That brief bit of jealousy had led to a delightful night, and a satisfying conversation afterward. She was impressed by just how far Quentin came and how fast, but¡­


    ¡°I like the idea, but I¡¯m not so certain today¡¯s a good day for it,¡± said Razia.


    ¡°Ahh,¡± said Samantha knowingly. ¡°If it helps, Rocco doesn¡¯t mind a bit of blood, and we can always focus on --¡±


    ¡°No no, not that,¡± Razia laughed. No, that wasn¡¯t an issue. The fact that Quentin came back from the dead and they still hadn¡¯t had too much time to themselves was what bugged her. It felt wrong to throw herself into the work when she wanted something specific before she did. Much like intentionally pissing off the church, maybe it¡¯d come later. But that didn¡¯t mean the idea was entirely out of the question.


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± said Razia. ¡°If Rocco¡¯s willing to sit around and pass some time before the two of you go off to fuck like rabbits, we¡¯ll waive the house fee. You¡¯ll get paid the same, he¡¯ll pay less, and maybe I won¡¯t go stark raving mad waiting for everyone to get home.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good!¡± Samantha said. ¡°Before that¡­Bath?¡±


    She didn¡¯t have to tell Razia twice. Though the novelty of having a pool of a bathtub you could swim in had mostly worn off, baths were still one of the things they regularly did together to relax and just socialize in peace. It was hard not to be at peace when the water was nice and hot and you could soak away all your troubles. Samantha and Razia spent the next half hour there, pointedly talking about plays, regulars, new places to go eat. Any and everything that wasn¡¯t serious and had no weight. It was as relieving as the water.


    They were right about to get out when Rocco came into the bathroom, knocking on the wall. ¡°There you are, Sam. I¡¯ve had a very long day and I could use your sweet touch to make the pain go away. Oh, hello Razia. Looking good!¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± Razia raised herself partway out of the bath. She was gratified when his eyes dropped down to her chest and he wore a dopey grin. That grin only got wider when Samantha did the same, standing next to Razia with her much, much larger breasts glistening with water. Razia really did like Rocco. He was simple, he appreciated them, and he was funny.


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    Rocco made grabby hands at the air, one hand for each of them. ¡°Is the water still good? I wouldn¡¯t mind a bit of a soak.¡±


    ¡°Lukewarm, I¡¯m afraid,¡± said Samantha. ¡°And I¡¯m a bit of a prune. If you want me at my best you¡¯re going to have to wait for me to dry off, love.¡±


    Rocco shook his head vehemently. ¡°Not at all. I prefer you wet, even if you do get wrinkly. Let¡¯s be real here Sam, do you think I¡¯m going to be looking at your hands? Get over here and give me a proper greeting.¡±


    Sam giggled and climbed out of the bath, dripping wet. She pressed herself against Rocco, who very much didn¡¯t mind getting soaked, and gave him a warm, equally wet kiss. By the time she pulled away he let out a disappointed groan.


    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± he said. Then his grin reappeared and he turned to Razia. ¡°What about you?¡±


    Oh, this was too perfect. Smiling, Razia climbed out of the bath as well and sauntered up to him slowly, putting extra sway in each step. ¡°What about me?¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± She leaned closer¡­Only to veer off to Samantha, kissing her instead. Samantha didn¡¯t hesitate, kissing her back and pulling her closer. Razia let out an exaggerated moan that Rocco followed up with one of his own. When Razia broke away, she was grinning. ¡°Is that better?¡±


    ¡°Much,¡± Rocco groaned, his entire body screaming tension and frustration. His eyes flicked between the two of them and Razia knew he was picturing exactly what Samantha had suggested before he arrived. Oh, the poor man. If he¡¯d known her three months ago that wouldn¡¯t even have been a question. ¡°So, I was going to take my time, but I¡¯m so hard it hurts. You two want to grab a room?¡±


    Razia pretended to think about it. ¡°No, I¡¯m waiting for Quentin to get back. Best you get is a free show.¡± It wasn¡¯t pissing off someone dangerous, but it was still being a bit of a brat. It was better than nothing. She made a big show of turning her back on him and moving slowly as she retrieved her towel and patted herself dry. No way was Rocco going to ruin the good thing he had going by trying anything.


    And he didn¡¯t. Razia put her clothes on peacefully while Samantha caught his attention again. ¡°She might not be down, but I could maybe help with that,¡± Razia heard from behind her.


    ¡°Mm. Just excited in the moment, I think. I got greedy. If I have you all to myself for the day then I want to take my time. I want to wine you, dine you, and pick your brain for all the juiciest gossip. Why don¡¯t you start by staying naked and getting us some wine to share?¡±


    ¡°What, didn¡¯t bring your own this time?¡± Razia called out, pulling up the strap of her dress over her shoulder. She turned around, smirking.


    Rocco just smiled and shrugged innocently. ¡°I was in the neighborhood and had a drink. You girls love me too much to give me shit about it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± said Samantha, pulling on his toga to give him another kiss. ¡°I¡¯ll get us something to drink. Hey Razia, do you mind if I go into your personal collection? The Garden¡¯s stock is running a little low on quality vintages.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± Razia waved her off. ¡°We¡¯ll do a big order for supplies tomorrow. You know where the good bottles are? We wouldn¡¯t want to give anything less than the best to our VIP here.¡±


    Rocco beamed while Samantha nodded. ¡°Of course. Think the guards will mind a free show?¡± She laughed and walked out of the room. Both Rocco and Samantha watched her go.


    Razia moved past him and went to the atrium. He followed along after her, lounging crookedly on the couch opposite her. ¡°So gossip before sex, huh? I swear, it¡¯s usually the other way around.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, Samantha usually has so much to say. Not as much as Jenna, but I¡¯m not sure anyone talks as much as her.¡± Rocco made a face, and Razia laughed.


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± That¡¯s probably why that bitch Kelli stuck so close to her. It made the job that much easier with Jenna feeding her everything she could possibly want. It was almost time to do something about her, but for the moment¡­Wait. Razia looked at Rocco, really looked at him for the first time. ¡°Who would you say is your favorite girl to see?¡±


    Rocco made a thoughtful sound, drumming his fingers along the arm of the couch. ¡°Why must you ask me impossible questions? How could I ever choose between such a wonderful selection of passionate, enthusiastic, and skilled companions?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me one second,¡± said Razia, getting up and moving to the master bedroom. She searched the nightstand where she kept some of the records. There were better places for it now, and later she¡¯d transfer them. But for now¡­Yes, there it was. Rocco had seen almost every companion at the Garden an almost perfectly even amount of times. There were fewer instances of him seeing Tenchi and Cullen, but they were new. All the information was there, and Razia couldn¡¯t believe it took her this long to see it.


    It had been too easy to tunnel vision on Kelli as a spy when she was so bad at it. When she was so irritating and grating and easy to dislike that Razia honestly felt her judgment clouding whenever she thought of her. The little pieces all painted a picture she hadn¡¯t seen before now. Razia put the records away and went back to the atrium.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ve got a question for you, Rocco,¡± Razia said, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. He raised an eyebrow but motioned for her to speak. ¡°What is it you do with your time? You come here a lot. What else do you do?¡±


    ¡°As little as possible!¡± Rocco laughed, slapping his knee. ¡°I gamble, I carouse, I go out to eat with my friends and we spend a bunch of my father¡¯s shards. It really is nice, being born into money.¡± His smile was smug, but there was something behind his eyes.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying you¡¯re not a spy for Cicero?¡± Razia asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes.


    He laughed again, but there was a second of hesitation. ¡°Cicero? The loan shark?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia. ¡°It makes sense. You¡¯ve seen all the girls an equal number of times with a slight preference for Samantha and Jenna. You spend money like you¡¯re not worried about losing it, but you¡¯re not anyone famous or notable. I don¡¯t know your father, all I know is you have money and you spend too much time here. You¡¯re the one he sent here to listen in on my clients and see what you could get my girls to reveal.¡±


    Rocco wasn¡¯t laughing anymore. He stood up, and Razia really noticed how much bigger he was. And the fact that they were alone. Now this was more like it. She took a step forward, and he took a step back. His face went through a gamut of emotions before it settled on resignation. ¡°Great. The cushiest job I¡¯ve ever had, ruined. Thanks a lot Razia.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Razia punched the air and laughed while Rocco frowned at her. ¡°I knew it! I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t deny it harder, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Would there even be a point?¡± Rocco pouted. ¡°You¡¯re sharp and Cicero knew this was likely to happen eventually. I was just hoping I could spend another month or two fucking around and getting drunk and getting paid for it.¡±


    Oh, this was too good. Not only was that mystery finally solved, but it proved above all else that Kelli was a spy for Piro. That meant it had to be her who signaled the Warlords when to attack, it was her that knew when the party was going to be for Christophe and Piro to crash. Who knows what happened next, now that they were in open war with each other? They¡¯d deal with her when Quentin got back. Satisfied, Razia had an idea.


    ¡°Cicero doesn¡¯t have to know, you know,¡± she said.


    Rocco perked up. ¡°He doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°It serves my purposes to have someone I know is harmless as a spy. Well, mostly harmless. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s plenty Cicero¡¯s done with the knowledge you¡¯ve gotten from here.¡± Rocco said nothing, but bowed his head in acknowledgement. ¡°So let¡¯s say we don¡¯t tell him that your cover is blown. That way you can STILL spend your days fucking and drinking and getting paid to do both.¡±


    ¡°I must say, Ms. Rashid, I love the way your mind works.¡± Rocco grinned and held out his hand. She shook it, and together they laughed. They were still laughing when Samantha came back with probably the best bottle of wine in Quentin¡¯s collection.


    ¡°What¡¯re we laughing about?¡± Samantha asked, joining them there and cradling the bottle between her naked breasts.


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± said Razia. ¡°Just enjoying some good times together. Any trouble?¡±


    Samantha giggled. ¡°The head guard, Fred I think, asked me not to wander out naked. Some of the neighbors saw me and weren¡¯t happy about it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent!¡± said Razia. ¡°This calls for a celebration.¡±


    Rocco took the bottle from Samantha and popped it open. The cork shot off sideways and rolled along the tiles until it fell into the pool. ¡°Oops!¡± he said with a laugh, bringing the bottle to his mouth and taking a long, deep drink. He passed it to Samantha next, who took a much smaller drink.


    Then it was Razia¡¯s turn and she lifted the bottle to her lips. She was right about to drink when Rocco coughed. A loud, harsh cough right in her face that made Razia pull the bottle away, ready to give him shit for not covering his mouth when it was followed by another cough. And another. Panic flashed in his eyes as his face darkened. Then Samantha started coughing.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Razia looked down at the bottle of wine. It was Quentin¡¯s favorite, and one he only brought out for special occasions. She looked back up and Rocco¡¯s face was purple.


    He coughed harder and harder, gasping for breath and clutching at his throat. Rocco fell to the ground, convulsing. His struggles grew more frenzied until a far away look entered his eyes, and he stopped. Samantha¡¯s coughs only got worse. She looked at Razia with fear, desperation, and begging. Then she too fell to the ground.


    ¡°Sam? Sam?¡± Razia set the bottle down and kneeled beside her. Samantha¡¯s face was darkening as well, but her gasps deeper, less panicked. ¡°Help! Somebody help!¡±

 Chapter 100: M茅nage 脿 Trois

    Rather than sit around and put up with Razia all day, Isa made the wise decision to get out of the Garden and treat herself. Things weren¡¯t perfect but overall they were looking up, minus the impending violence. Isa had the strange thought that after today, there would be a chance she wouldn¡¯t be able to easily go out by herself depending on how big the street war got. So she did what any sensible woman would do and went shopping.


    It was frustrating sometimes, finding that she wanted for nothing and had all of her needs provided for. Isa worked hard for her shards, but she was increasingly aware of just how good she had it. Any money she had she stashed away for later, available to get anything she wanted. The problem was now that she had shelter, food, friends, and a community, everything else was just stuff.


    That didn¡¯t stop her from picking up a golden bracelet set with dark red gems, a new silk top, a new pair of sandals, and a wide brimmed hat made of a soft fabric that wouldn¡¯t last long in the desert. She wore half her new purchases home, the rest stowed away in a wicker basket she brought with her. Briefly, she considered stopping for food, but Samantha was bound to have something in store for everyone, even if just a group order for someplace local.


    All in all, her time away put Isa in a relatively good mood. She loved her home, but it wasn¡¯t supposed to be a cage. It was too easy to sit in and enjoy the quiet and solitude and forget about the big, busy city outside. Isa wasn¡¯t about to lose her edge. She wouldn¡¯t let herself be complacent again. When she got back to the courtyard, the gate was wide open, and a lot of familiar faces hung out outside, talking quietly to one another.


    Isa slowed to a stop. Some of them, including Jenna and Lynne, were crying, curled up on the ground and sobbing into each other¡¯s arms. Next to them were a couple scuffed up gladiators who didn¡¯t look happy either. Isa¡¯s gut dropped. Rather than ask what happened she went into the main room, all but running until she saw the problem.


    There was a dead man on the ground, face dark purple and locked forever in agony. It took Isa a second to recognize it as Rocco, the annoying charmer who was always there. Beside him was¡­Gods. She dropped her basket and covered her mouth. Samantha lay beside him covered in a blanket, face almost as purple as his. She wasn¡¯t dead though. Her chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven hitches. Other than that, she was still.


    ¡°Isa,¡± Razia got her attention. Her eyes were red as well. Beside her was Quentin, holding her and looking grim. His eyes were locked on Samantha. ¡°Samantha was poisoned,¡± she said, heading off Isa¡¯s question. ¡°Her and Rocco.¡±


    ¡°How did this happen?¡± Isa said, moving close. On the other side of Samantha was a middle aged man with his head against Samantha¡¯s chest, listening in. The physician, she assumed.


    ¡°Someone tried to poison me,¡± said Quentin, turning to Isa. He looked about as miserable as he had when Maria died. A pang pierced Isa¡¯s heart before she forced herself to calm down.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that,¡± said Razia.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s my favorite wine. You said she got it from my private collection. It could¡¯ve been for you, but it was probably for me. Piro and Christophe know that I¡¯m alive and they tried to take me out again.¡±


    Isa¡¯s mind raced. ¡°How did they get in? This entire neighborhood is crawling with people at all times. Between the guards and the gladiators, no one should¡¯ve been able to get into your house. Which means¡­¡± She saw by the look on Razia and Quentin¡¯s faces that they¡¯d arrived at the same conclusion. ¡°Someone¡¯s betrayed us.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to deal with it,¡± Razia said, fists clenching at her sides. ¡°This will not go unpunished.¡±


    ¡°You know who it is,¡± Isa said, startled but the second she said it she knew it had to be true. ¡°You knew we had a spy here and you did nothing and now Samantha is¡­Gods, is she going to die?¡±


    The physician spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s going to be close,¡± he said in a gravelly voice. He stood up and dusted his knees off. ¡°I¡¯ve got some medicines that could help, but the poison did some damage. She may never be able to speak ever again.¡±


    Tears pricked Isa¡¯s eyes. This wasn¡¯t fair. No one wanted to hurt Samantha. Who ever could? Only scum like Otho dared, and Razia had destroyed the Silk Lounge for it. Out of all of them, Samantha was the only one Isa truly believed didn¡¯t have an ounce of cruelty to her. She was kind to everyone and enthusiastic about life. This wasn¡¯t fair.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take whatever you¡¯ve got and will be mindful in our care for her,¡± Razia told the physician as Quentin got out his purse and pulled out a couple of purple aquilo pieces.


    The physician pocketed them with a sharp nod. He pulled out several bottles from his bag and set them down beside Samantha. ¡°The bottles are labeled with their use and dose. Come find me again if her condition worses, and be careful moving her. Have someone with her at all times and make sure you move her on occasion to avoid sores.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Quentin said, offering his hand. The physician looked at it, thought about it, then shook it before grabbing his bag and leaving out the garden gate.


    Isa moved past them and knelt beside Samantha. Her eyes were closed and though it was troubled she seemed asleep for the moment. She didn¡¯t like the sound of the rattle in her chest. The idea that she could die, or survive and be unable to speak¡­Isa wiped at her eyes, hating her weakness.


    ¡°You know who did this. What are your plans to deal with it?¡± Isa looked up, anger breaking through the grief.


    It was Razia who answered. ¡°We¡¯re going to use her and then pay her back for this.¡±


    She. There was only one person Isa could think of. It obviously wasn¡¯t her, wasn¡¯t Samantha, sure as hell wasn¡¯t Lynne, probably not Jenna, Tenchi and Cullen were possibilities, but in the end she landed on¡­ ¡°Kelli,¡± Isa hissed.


    The looks on their faces told her she was right. Isa stood and turned, ready to storm out where she had seen her and claw her eyes out. She made it all of three steps before a pair of very large arms wrapped around her middle and picked her up like she was nothing. Isa was slender but tall, and she immediately twisted and threw elbows trying to get Quentin off of her. She didn¡¯t care about the gladiators in the distance watching. ¡°Let go of me!¡±


    ¡°Not until you calm down,¡± Quentin hissed in her ear. ¡°You think I don¡¯t feel the same way? If Samantha dies, I will walk right up to her and wring the life out of her. Do you understand me?¡±


    Razia moved in front of her, putting her hands on Isa¡¯s arms. ¡°We need to be smart about this,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ve got the start of a plan and we¡¯re going to make use of her before we deal with her permanently. Trust us.¡±


    Isa took a few long, deep breaths, willing her anger and hate to back the fuck down before it got her in trouble. She wanted nothing more than to go outside and unleash everything she had on the bitch. But Razia was right. They needed to be smart about it. She let herself go slack, and soon after Quentin put her back on the ground.


    ¡°But I want in on this,¡± she said, looking from one to the other. ¡°I¡¯m not stepping back and letting you two handle things while you tell me not to worry. Do you understand me?¡±


    Quentin looked like he wanted to argue, but Razia met Isa¡¯s eyes and considered her. As much as they¡¯d been sniping at each other for the past week, there was a kinship there that wasn¡¯t before. As much as Isa hated it, Razia had a better understanding of her now, and her weaknesses. But she also knew Isa¡¯s conviction. In the end, she nodded.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in?¡± Quentin furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Yes, keep up,¡± Isa said, almost smiling. He just shrugged, looking helpless and unwilling to argue it.


    ¡°We need to move her first,¡± said Razia. ¡°She can stay in my old room next door. We¡¯re going to need a few people to move her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle this,¡± said Quentin, heading for outside where the others waited.


    It left her and Razia alone, save for the few people standing guard. They weren¡¯t in any hurry to get closer and looked distinctly uncomfortable after this turn of events. Isa leapt on the opportunity. ¡°Okay. What¡¯s your reason?¡±


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    Razia tore her attention away from Samantha¡¯s unconscious form. She didn¡¯t feign misunderstanding. ¡°You¡¯re a pain in the ass but you¡¯ve been helpful the past while. You¡¯re sharp and catch things we miss. You¡¯re paranoid and don¡¯t trust anything. And because I¡¯m not going to try to keep you away.¡±


    Isa¡¯s face burned. ¡°This is not about that. This has nothing to do with that and isn¡¯t a factor. I¡¯m not going to do anything. There¡¯s nothing to be done, do you understand me? It¡¯s a silly momentary issue that won¡¯t last and isn¡¯t worth talking about. This is about making sure the Garden is safe and that bitch gets what¡¯s coming to her.¡±


    Razia smiled sadly. ¡°I know, Isa. But I thought it couldn¡¯t hurt. We could use your help. At first it was just the two of us, but now there¡¯s Jonas helping with the gladiators. We keep getting bigger, and there¡¯s no one other than you I¡¯d trust to help run things and have the best interests of the girls at heart.¡±


    Of all the things said to her over the past week, endless jabs and teases over her one moment of weakness, this got to Isa more than all of them combined. Upon hearing genuine praise, something in her brain fluttered to a stop. She opened her mouth to argue on principle and found she couldn¡¯t. Instead, she nodded, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll make sure you two don¡¯t fuck things up for the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what we want from you.¡±


    Before too much longer, Quentin came in with two of the less injured men and one wiry woman. Between them they carried a thick blanket. They set it on the floor next to Samantha before they transferred her onto it and then picked that up. Together, they carefully moved her out of the atrium and into the other house. Isa helped by grabbing the medicines and bringing them over. She didn¡¯t know what was going to be done about the dead regular, but that was a problem for later.


    Once they got Samantha situated, Isa administered the first dose of a thick white goop, getting a fingerful and rubbing it along the outside of her throat until it absorbed into her skin. Samantha swallowed with some great trouble but otherwise lay there, still with that awful rattle to her breathing. Isa couldn¡¯t bring herself to stay in the room too long and waited for them on the lounger.


    It took them a while. They had things to say to the people and probably a speech to give. Isa wondered if Kelli would run or stick around. She wondered if she¡¯d be able to hold in her anger and not make an attempt on her life. She was in the middle of a graphic fantasy of whipping the bitch¡¯s back raw when Quentin and Razia returned.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot to talk about,¡± Quentin said with a sigh. He looked exhausted and carried himself with the weight of the world on his shoulders.


    ¡°Where are we doing this?¡± Isa asked.


    ¡°We usually do it right here,¡± said Razia, pointing to where Isa was sitting.


    Isa looked down. It was built for two people. She looked back up, raising her eyebrow as if to say ¡®really?¡¯. ¡°You don¡¯t have a table and chairs like regular people? With all of your money?¡±


    Quentin looked away, embarrassed. ¡°Look, I spent nearly ten years living alone and part of me is still used to that. I¡¯ve never needed a table and chairs. I¡¯ll get some tomorrow, but for now, does it really matter? We could go anywhere and it¡¯d work so long as there was privacy.¡±


    ¡°We could use the bedroom,¡± said Razia, looking at Isa with a barely restrained smile. ¡°The bed¡¯s big enough for all of us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± said Quentin, missing it entirely. Isa glared daggers at the islander. ¡°Unless you have an objection?¡±


    ¡°No¡­no objections,¡± Isa sighed, motioning for them to get on with it. She followed them to his¡­His and Razia¡¯s bedroom. Quentin sat down on the side of the bed. Razia joined him, leaning in close. Isa chose to remain standing, leaning against the nearby dresser. ¡°What are we going to do about Kelli?¡±


    ¡°First,¡± said Quentin, ¡°we should talk about the raid today.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia, sighing. ¡°So long as Samantha¡¯s okay for now, might as well. I have Lucy sitting in with her right now. So, what happened? You all look a little beat up but nothing too bad.¡±


    The supposedly immortal man smiled grimly. ¡°It was a smashing success. Only a handful of people have anything worse than a few scrapes. We hit them hard and got away with nearly four hundred aquilos. It was payday, just like you said it was. We caught the payroll before they could leave.¡±


    Isa blinked. ¡°Four hundred?¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± said Razia. ¡°That¡¯ll pay the men off. Cicero will be happy with his share and the rest should cover what it cost to equip everyone and set this up. We¡¯re breaking even on this one but I think we succeeded in bloodying their nose and pissing them off. They¡¯ll have to pay attention after this. Tomorrow I¡¯ll check in with Cicero about how his men did.¡±


    ¡°We got some decent information out of the payroll worm,¡± Quentin said. ¡°A few other places to hit, including a few businesses and another flophouse or two.¡±


    This was more than Isa expected, but that wasn¡¯t a bad thing. This was serious. They weren¡¯t just a brothel anymore. Things were only bound to get more dangerous. Her thoughts raced, thinking through as much as she could. ¡°They¡¯ll be on high alert after this,¡± she said. ¡°Obviously. Do you have a list of possible targets?¡±


    Razia nodded. ¡°Yeah. I know a lot of their businesses. I don¡¯t remember everyone working for them but I remember the operations well enough to disrupt them. We¡¯ve got options.¡±


    That was good. It wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°And what about retaliation?¡± Isa demanded. ¡°He hit us, we hit him, he hit us, we hit him again. They know exactly where we are and they have someone on the inside.¡± Realization hit her. ¡°It was Kelli who let men know when to attack the Garden. She picked a night Quentin wasn¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Razia confirmed.


    Isa¡¯s anger spiked once more. Her eyes drifted towards the door, contemplating throwing caution to the wind and going for her. ¡°So what about retaliation and Kelli?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Cicero¡¯s got a lot of his forces on the defensive,¡± said Quentin, fiddling with the bedspread. ¡°It¡¯s tricky. Christophe directly commands men. Mr. Cicero holds together a lot of otherwise feuding groups together like glue by keeping them out of each other¡¯s hair and making sure grudges are dealt with fairly. He has a lot of people answering to him, and defense is going to be a lot easier to deal with as we plan where to hit them hard.


    ¡°The Garden isn¡¯t an easy target. It¡¯s now headquarters for a lot of dangerous armed men and it¡¯s in a rich neighborhood surrounded by private security and full of fairly rich people who would absolutely strike back if it affects them at all. We¡¯re lucky they haven¡¯t given us more trouble after the invasion, honestly. We think that they¡¯re more likely to hit Cicero¡¯s allies and underlings and try to undermine him and make the war unpopular to continue.¡±


    Isa understood immediately. ¡°The Warlords are focused on getting you two. They might hit Cicero¡¯s places but you¡¯re the goal. That¡¯s one unified vision, versus a bunch of allied gangs. That¡¯s tricky. How many people does Piro have? How much territory?¡±


    ¡°Hundreds of men,¡± said Razia with a wince. ¡°A few hundred fighters, and plenty more people who pay tribute and can contribute resources to a war machine. Merchants, coppers in his pocket, and Piro has a few friends in high places who can help pull strings and flex some real power on the south side. They¡¯re dangerous men, but they control about 70% of the criminal activity down south. They¡¯ve got some serious rivals.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we need,¡± Isa said. ¡°If we can get them to overextend coming after us and reach out to their rivals, maybe we can get them from both sides. Spitroast the motherfuckers.¡±


    Quentin and Razia looked at each other, smiling slightly. They looked to have a silent conversation that Isa couldn¡¯t help but find annoying. They were gross together now. ¡°I¡¯m really glad to have you aboard,¡± said Quentin. ¡°But if you¡¯re going to be with us, I need to know you¡¯re committed. No more acting like you¡¯re going to constantly leave, and no more holding my identity over my head.¡±


    A pang of guilt stabbed her in the side. ¡°I think right about now we could use a good Butcher to put an end to this,¡± she said. ¡°Now, about Kelli¡­¡±


    Quentin said, ¡°We¡¯re going to use her to hurt them back. We don¡¯t have anything specific in mind yet, but we¡¯re thinking about putting her on Samantha duty.¡±


    Isa bared her teeth in a silent snarl at the very idea until she really thought about it. ¡°You want to keep her busy and out of the way,¡± she said. ¡°If Samantha dies under her, it¡¯s an excuse to kill her. If she was going after you, she fucked up and she¡¯ll be off balance. Okay. And then what?¡±


    Quentin slowly slid his arm over Razia¡¯s shoulder and pulled her closer to him. ¡°We use her to get some information we want to Piro and company,¡± said Razia, getting comfortable. ¡°That¡¯s why we can¡¯t do anything to her yet. We need to keep her around just long enough to make it count.¡±


    She understood. Isa didn¡¯t like it, but it made sense. As long as Kelli was around she was a risk, but keeping her around Samantha would possibly help. Her heart sank again at the mental image of Samantha¡¯s purple face and uneven breathing.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go spend some time with Samantha,¡± Isa said. ¡°You two look like you could use some private time anyway.¡± She couldn¡¯t help but sneer a little. It just made Razia smile at her.


    ¡°You can come get us whenever you need us,¡± said Razia. ¡°No matter the time.¡±


    Quentin grunted. ¡°You¡¯re one of us now, I guess. You¡¯re in the thick of it. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t disappoint you.¡±


    Isa stood. ¡°You will, but I¡¯ll try not to hold it against you.¡± She bit back the smile while Quentin shook his head at her in a way that could¡¯ve been fondness. There was a warmth to his icy blue eyes that made Isa stop where she was for an embarrassingly long time. She looked away and nodded and headed out of the room. She went to Razia¡¯s old room, where Lucy sat with Samantha.


    Lucy was actively crying and holding Samantha¡¯s hand. Isa joined her there, putting a hand on Lucy¡¯s shoulder. The younger woman turned and buried herself in Isa¡¯s middle and hugged her tight, sobbing. Tears of her own fell down Isa¡¯s face seeing her.


    Maybe this should¡¯ve been the thing that made her run for good. She couldn¡¯t. Isa was, as Quentin said, in the thick of it. She had too many ties to leave, too many reasons to stay, and too much hatred for Kelli to let things lie. ¡°We¡¯ll get the people who did this,¡± she whispered to Lucy and Samantha. ¡°No matter what it takes.¡±

 Chapter 101: Bloodthirsty Bastard Christophe

    Christophe wasn¡¯t happy. To be fair, Christophe¡¯s default emotions were irritation and sometimes mild satisfaction. If something got in the way of satisfying him, he was irritated and destroyed it. It kept life simple, and his enemies afraid of him. Most of his enemies feared him, and the ones who didn¡¯t were dead. Except for one. Somehow, Quentin Quintius survived the savage beating and impalement and now for the past two weeks hit the south side at least every other day.


    Orchrisus had enjoyed a period of relative peace and prosperity for long enough. Now, the streets erupted with violence and normal citizens kept their eyes open for trouble. Fights started at the drop of a hat and were so widespread the Watch had almost entirely given up on trying to stop it. They stuck to the edges of decent neighborhoods and kept the gangs out. There were parts of the city not at war, but the bottom half of the north side and the top half of the southside were warzones.


    The Warlords had plenty of men. It was their greatest strength, but the constant attacks meant only some of them got to attack, and their numbers thinned with every northern intrusion. The worst part about dealing with Cicero was that his strength lay in being indirect. He didn¡¯t have direct control over his mercenaries and various tools. He didn¡¯t order his men into battle like Christophe and Piro, he painted targets and told them to have fun, and he knew exactly where and when to strike.


    ¡°That¡¯s another shipment of wine stolen,¡± Piro recited to Christophe, reading the note. ¡°Apparently they¡¯re not even reselling it or anything, they¡¯re just drinking it as they saunter off. We¡¯re really getting our asses hammered.¡±


    Christophe snarled. ¡°How is this even possible? He should¡¯ve been dead. You saw him! How are they not losing nearly as many men?¡±


    Piro winced. They were in their usual spots in the back of the Dancing Flame tavern, alone. None of their men wanted to be around them right now, and Christophe was grateful to not have to watch his temper around them. They were losing enough men.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Piro, setting the message down on the table, ¡°apparently they¡¯re really good at working together. Our boys are vicious and fierce but like half of them are just angry kids. Good enough for scraps down here, but we¡¯re up against professionals. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d be so eager for war, but I think you might¡¯ve pissed Mr. Cicero off by punching the moonkissed. For what it¡¯s worth, I think you did the right thing!¡±


    Another growl. Christophe stood up, the two stools beneath him creaking with the loss of his weight. He lurched over to the window, wincing in pain. The magical rings kept him alive and kept the damage from hurting him too badly, but the healing was an uncomfortable, draining, tedious experience. He neared fully recovery by now. What a bitch it was that Quintius was also a cheater.


    ¡°We can¡¯t let this go unpunished,¡± Christophe said, looking at some of their boys standing in the streets, kicking around a leather ball. Those boys were too soft. They were losing enough men, it was time to get some of them blooded and ready to fight. ¡°What about cutting off his access to the port?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried that,¡± said Piro. ¡°Tried ambushing one of his luxury shipments. Turns out it was a counter ambush. He¡¯s really good at those. It¡¯s really unpleasant fighting a war against someone who knows everything.¡±


    Christophe turned to level an incredulous stare at Piro. Piro just shrugged, laughing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get why this is so fucking funny to you,¡± Christophe growled. ¡°You started this war, and now we¡¯re losing it. All of this because you can¡¯t get over some cheap piece of ass.¡±


    ¡°Because I can¡¯t get over an excellent piece of ass,¡± Piro said. He ducked from the mug Christophe flung at his head. It collided with the wall, shattering. ¡°Hey!¡±


    Sometimes it was hard not to strangle Piro. He was a good partner and strong and cunning, but he never knew when to keep his damned mouth shut and not make things worse. Something he and the bitch had in common. Christophe focused on his breathing, and staying calm. ¡°Alright. I think that we need to make appearances ourselves. They¡¯ve been keeping us on our back feet. We need to hit them back harder.¡±


    Piro nodded, serious now. ¡°You know, part of me was going to suggest we be a little patient, but I think you¡¯re right. I¡¯ve been working on something anyway. It¡¯s not perfect, but it will do the trick.¡± Piro fished into his garish jacket¡¯s pockets and pulled out a little silver mushroom.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± said Christophe. ¡°I trust the fungus will protect you from harm.¡±


    ¡°Close! The fungus will protect me from being seen by the palace Shadowspeakers.¡± Piro flipped the mushroom over in his hand. Tiny etched lines covered the surface. ¡°Won¡¯t do anything for my control, but it¡¯ll give me time to get something done. How¡¯re your wounds doing?¡±


    Christophe stretched. It only hurt a little. ¡°I¡¯ll live. Got another shield ring handy?¡±


    Piro fished another ring out and slid it across the table. ¡°This is my last one. Try not to get this one melted before I make some more, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Christophe scooped it off the table and put it on his left middle finger. Even without any magic of his own he could feel the buzz of something greater in each of the four rings he now wore. He wiggled his fingers, smiling. ¡°Where do we hit?¡±


    ¡°SO glad you asked,¡± Piro rubbed his hands together. ¡°I¡¯ve got the perfect two locations for us, based on our spy¡¯s reports. We take two teams and split up and hit them simultaneously. We do it tomorrow before the next attack on us. I¡¯ve been looking at the attacks¡¯ timing and I¡¯m pretty sure I know exactly when to strike.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! Finally carrying your fucking weight,¡± Christophe said. Piro flipped him off and together they laughed.


    The next day couldn¡¯t come soon enough. As soon as the plans coalesced, Christophe focused on handpicking his best men for the mission and making sure they knew what was at stake. This wasn¡¯t just a raid on enemy territory, this was a full on assault to make them regret their poor life choices. Together, they were going to leave a pile of bodies behind big enough to make even the bravest man rethink fighting them.


    When they went out, they went out in force. The Warlords didn¡¯t pretend to be anything other than what they were: an invading force out to cause some damage. Christophe led a force of forty men directly onto the streets. When people saw them, they wisely turned tail and ran or found themselves indoors until the threat had passed. They encountered no resistance until they got to the bridge and met the Watchmen standing guard.


    ¡°Turn around,¡± the head Watchman said. He wore a silver badge and headed up a crew of six people, spread out across the entrance to the bridge. ¡°We¡¯ve had enough of gang violence. Just go home and don¡¯t cause trouble.¡± The rest of his crew didn¡¯t look too enthused to be there.


    ¡°Get out of my way or die,¡± said Christophe. Then, in an attempt to be diplomatic, he said, ¡°you¡¯ve got eyes. You have to know you can¡¯t win against us. Save yourself the headache and just move.¡± He held out his hands, wiggling his fingers before squeezing an invisible neck.


    ¡°Todd, run up north and get reinforcements!¡± The leader barked. Todd, whoever it was, didn¡¯t move. The leader looked behind him, but none of his men looked him in the eye.


    Christophe grinned. ¡°They know better. They¡¯re smarter than you. So, last chance. You going to live, or are you going to die?¡± From behind him his gang burst out laughing and jeered at the small assembly of lawmen.


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    The man looked up into Christophe¡¯s unhinged eyes with a scowl. He was a brave one, if nothing else, but Christophe had no use for brave. Especially when it stood in his way and threatened him. ¡°Turn the fuck around or I swear to the gods I¡¯ll --¡±


    Christophe rushed forward, grabbing the silver badged dumbass by the face and dragging him along the ground. The other watchmen scattered to get out of his way. Some of them went for their weapons, but nobody drew. The leader thrashed and tried to break free from his grip, but Christophe was frightfully strong. A few seconds of futile struggles was all it took for them to get to the side of the bridge.


    ¡°Let go of me you son of a --¡±


    Whatever he was going to say, it didn¡¯t matter. As far as last words go, ¡°let me go you son of a --¡± were certainly words. Christophe slammed the Watchman¡¯s head into the side of the bridge. The first hit made his entire body twitch. The second slam and the body went limp. The third and fourth were purely for Christophe¡¯s own enjoyment. Either way, the leader was silent now.


    ¡°So, does anyone care to tell me what happened here?¡± He directed the question at the remaining Watch members, who stood very still and watched him with a mix of horror and resignation.


    One of them, Christophe liked to imagine it was Todd, piped up. ¡°Commander Paulson was running across the bridge and tripped and fell over. His body was never recovered.¡± His voice even managed not to waver. He was going to go a lot further than his late commander.


    ¡°Very good,¡± said Christophe. He grabbed the body by the front of the uniform and threw it over the side. The currents carried it off in seconds. The giant looked out over the remaining watch and his own men. ¡°You boys ready?¡± he called out.


    The Watch got out of the way. It was hilarious how careful they were, stepping to the side like moving carefully would mean avoiding his notice. Funnier yet, they were right. Christophe had no love for the Watch but they were inconsequential when they knew their place and stayed the fuck out of his sight. The Warlords cheered and some raised knives and swords into the air.


    ¡°Yeah? Then fucking march. We¡¯ve got us some whores and Shades to send to the Darkstar!¡±


    Once more they marched northward. The bridge was a mile long, and the best part of the trip was seeing the people heading south either try to squeeze by the sides and hope they¡¯d go unmolested by the Warlords or turn right back around and go north in a hurry. Part of him almost worried at advance warning for the north¡¯s Watch, but anything north of the river was at risk today.


    Maybe it was luck, then, that had the north side of the river completely abandoned. Either lucky, or a good warning and wiser coppers than they had down south. Either way, dozens and dozens of warlords filled the streets and brought with them an aura of dread to anyone who saw them. They pressed further north, up to the Boulevard of Saint Trassius where Quintius¡¯ people operated. Christophe¡¯s fingers clenched and unclenched. It wouldn¡¯t be long now.


    The Boulevard was semi-familiar territory. More importantly, it was the perfect place to cause some trouble. While Christophe wanted Quintius and his bitch dead, it was time to take a page out of Mr. Cicero¡¯s book and be indirect. If the Warlords lost some men, it cost them a few warm bodies. If Mr. Cicero¡¯s associates lost men, they lost trust in Cicero.


    ¡°Alright lads. Isn¡¯t this a lovely bit of a city?¡± He got a few jeers, but mostly his assembled army was eager to get moving. Who was he to get in their way?


    ¡±Break it.¡±


    All around him the Warlords fanned out, drawing their weapons. All smart people vacated the street. The rest, largely merchants and beggars, realized what was about to happen right as the first warlike howls erupted from the gang. Christophe stood there and watched as two men caught up with a fleeing merchant and took him to the ground, kicking and stabbing. More ran ahead, laughing and howling to the midday sun as they attacked anyone too slow or dumb to leave.


    Christophe himself took his time, unworried about the limited time they had. Piro was going to take care of the Watch by making a bigger splash than even them. All they had to do was have some fun and break things. Christophe lumbered over to a wooden stall where they sold fruity drinks. He grabbed one from behind the counter and drained it, smacking his lips. ¡°Not bad,¡± he said. Then he kicked the stall apart, stomping it down until it splintered into nothing.


    They invaded the local inns, the Warlords grabbing what shards they could and wounding a person or two before running out and moving on to the next building. Within minutes the sounds of screams and shouting were the only thing to be heard over the laughs. One of the buildings caught fire. Christophe didn¡¯t even tell them to do that, but it figured at least one of them took after Piro that way. Either way, it didn¡¯t take too long for defenders of some kind to show up.


    Cicero¡¯s men weren¡¯t unified like the Warlords, but there was a certain look to them. Someone dangerous and street smart who knew their role in the local ecosystem, growing fat off the excess of the sharks they served. Dangerous, but too disciplined and used to some manner of civility to really handle themselves around real strength. The first group of men arrived from the east, clashing with the Warlords furthest out.


    Christophe held a fist in the air. He leveled it at these new faces and bellowed wordlessly. A group of five young men, some of his best, charged and met them on the battlefield. He sauntered over and watched the show. Cicero¡¯s men were better. There was no denying that. The five of them formed a defensive ring and managed to stay alive for a while. Problem was, they were horribly outnumbered. The five were pressed in by ten.


    The fighting drove them eastwards, closer to his prey¡¯s home. One by one Cicero¡¯s men dropped. The first clubbed over the head before three men fell upon him with knives. The second parried one attack only to be run through by his buddy¡¯s thrust. The third they tackled to the ground and beat into a red paste. After that, the remaining two turned and ran. It was too late. The Warlords surrounded them.


    ¡°Well well well, what have we here?¡± Christophe called out.


    ¡°Dead men!¡± One of his men shouted, and the others crowed their approval.


    ¡°Dead men.¡± Christophe nodded. ¡°We could do that. Or we could demand a real fight. You pissants know where Quentin Quintius is?¡±


    One of them nodded.


    ¡°Go get him, tell him to bring his men and to hurry it up. The longer he takes the more of his neighbors lose their homes and businesses. Gonna make sure they know exactly who to thank for this!¡± Christophe motioned for the crowd to part.


    They hesitated, but in the end they obeyed. That was strength none of these soft northies understood. Northern mercs thought it better to be highly skilled, legendary individuals fighting for recognition. They were wrong. Real power and strength was in having a diehard group of half feral manchildren who¡¯d do anything for you if it meant being part of something bigger. Real strength was in making an angry, bloodthirsty mob obey you without question.


    The mercs took off running. At another motion from Christophe, the mob advanced pillaging as they went.


    As fun as it was, it couldn¡¯t go on forever. Eventually the Watch would respond to a group of this size, or possibly even the palace guard or dune rangers if things got bad enough. He had no plans to be there for longer than it took to kill Quintius, and possibly the whore too if they won fast enough. Wouldn¡¯t that be an excellent day? It put a smile on his face as he waited.


    They almost made it to Quintius¡¯ neighborhood when the first masked men showed up, turning the corner around the front line of Warlords. The Shades poured out from that street, all armed with shields and either a short sword or a spear. By the time the Warlords reacted, the Shades formed a line of shields across the wide avenue. A few seconds later, Quintius came out in a mask of his own.


    ¡°What¡¯s with the mask, Freak? Did I bust up your face that badly last time we met?¡± Christophe clapped his massive hands together and rubbed them eagerly. Finally!


    ¡°Sure did. Took me an entire week to heal that one off. This mask¡¯s padded, so the next time you hit me it won¡¯t hurt as much. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Around him, the Shades laughed. The moonkissed stepped forward past the shield wall, shield and sword of his own out. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come here, Christophe.¡±


    ¡°Why? What¡¯re you going to do, run into my fist and die again?¡± Christophe made his way to the front of the fight. He stopped just a few feet away from the pimp, hands balled into fists. It was tempting to just slug him right then and there, not bother with talking. But dammit if he wasn¡¯t curious. ¡°How did you get back up?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, cocking his head to the side. It had the damnedable effect of looking almost like a real face for a second. ¡°I¡¯m the Darkstar¡¯s favorite child and I¡¯m going to keep coming back until I finally kill you.¡±


    Ahh yes, the so-called miracle. Christophe took another step forward. Quentin didn¡¯t back down. Even with the mask on, something in his body language told him he wasn¡¯t even worried. That just wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m going to have to try harder to make it stick, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    He punched Quentin Quentin right in his stupid mask. Game on!

 Chapter 102: Rematch

    After two weeks of raids every other day, maybe Quentin should¡¯ve been tired or done with fighting. He wasn¡¯t. The act of going across the city to attack and kill people didn¡¯t do anything for him. If it could be done any other way, Quentin would¡¯ve done just that, but violence was inevitable. Just like his time in the Colosseum, there was a dark part of him that enjoyed the thrill of battle and a sense of conquering. Razia thought he was a good man. She was wrong.


    To his surprise, he wasn¡¯t alone. Jonas seemed willing to follow him anywhere, but Bruce, David, Pete and the rest remained as enthusiastic about it as they had from the start, even when not every raid was profitable. The men had all taken their fair share of injuries and walked away laughing, with only two of the Shades deciding they were done with the action. The rest hung around either the Garden or Maggie¡¯s Den, often taking up most of the tables there, to Maggie¡¯s growing irritation.


    Due to the street war, the Garden was on outcalls by appointment only, always with a bodyguard. The inns and taverns were a different story, with a couple of gladiators trying out positions as sub-pimps under him with the understanding that they were to provide a proper service for a cut, and that abusing the companions would be a very bad idea. Everything was falling into place. So Quentin didn¡¯t know why he had a terrible feeling.


    ¡°If you¡¯re feeling bad about it, then call it off,¡± said Razia, sitting on their bed. She looked at him through the mirror next to his dresser. Quentin was half dressed for battle, everything but the mask and weapons. ¡°You¡¯ve been getting lucky this entire time. You won¡¯t be lucky forever.¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted this taken care of,¡± Quentin grumbled good naturedly. ¡°Now that I¡¯m pruning the number of available people to attack the garden, you¡¯re complaining?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not complaining!¡± Razia insisted. She slid off the bed and came behind him, hugging him from behind and looking around his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that you¡¯ve really committed to this, and you can afford to rest a little.¡±


    It was a tempting prospect. Quentin¡¯s days and nights were a blur, blending at random times with taking care of the girls and checking in on poor Samantha, who was alive but still unconscious. Kelli remained with her, complaining to anyone who would listen but it meant neutralizing her for the moment. What little free time he had he spent with Razia late at night, but it wasn¡¯t the same. The fight was his priority.


    ¡°I¡¯d honestly do it if the guys weren¡¯t already here and raring to go,¡± Quentin said with a sigh. He covered her hands with his before turning and facing her directly. ¡°You know why I¡¯m doing this. The sooner the Warlords are no longer a problem, the sooner we can go back to normal. This isn¡¯t going to end until Christophe and Piro are dead. We have them on their back foot!¡±


    Razia put her hand on his chitin armor. ¡°And I appreciate that, so much. But lately you haven¡¯t been doing anything for yourself. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking you to do. Take a break, do something good for you. We could try branching out like we said¡­¡±


    Again, tempting, but Razia didn¡¯t understand. As much as Quentin loved the relative peace of the Moonlit Garden, in the grand scheme of things it was just a temporary reprieve. As long as they were in danger there was the fight. The fight called to him in a way she¡¯d never understand.


    ¡°After today,¡± he said, bending over to kiss her forehead. ¡°After today we¡¯ll take a break and see how Cicero¡¯s doing with things. He¡¯s been keeping up his part so far. And you and me¡­we¡¯ll see about branching out. Try some new things.¡±


    Razia practically vibrated with excitement. ¡°You¡¯re going to love it, I promise.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°But for now, we¡¯re going to go south and kick the shit out of some Warlords again. Maybe this time Christophe will show his face.¡±


    Just like that, her excitement disappeared. ¡°Are you going to be okay if you do fight him again?¡±


    He repressed a shudder. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to you,¡± he said. ¡°Christophe scares me. I¡¯ve never been hit that hard in my life. It was like the moment his fist connected with me, my body just failed and so he¡¯d get in another hit, and¡­Yeah. I¡¯m not going to underestimate him again. You can be sure of that.¡±


    The idea that Christophe was originally set to face him in the Colosseum now seemed absurd to him. That would¡¯ve been the first man to earn his freedom in ten years, and chances are they would¡¯ve just cremated him after he died. No chance of coming back from that.


    Quentin scooped his mask off the dresser and left his room, Razia following behind him. His house was no longer the same. Instead of just the lone lounger there were now several couches as well as a table and some chairs on the other side of the atrium, all filled with Shades. There were more lights and not just lanterns, and he¡¯d allowed some basic rugs and some tapestries for the walls. It wasn¡¯t as much of a tomb anymore.


    Jonas stood from a chair to greet him. Like Quentin, he was armored up and almost ready to go. The past couple of weeks had been eye opening regarding the teen. He fought fiercely and with a speed Quentin couldn¡¯t hope to match, decisively dancing in and out of battle. He was good, and someday would be great. ¡°We¡¯re almost ready to go. We really going to try talking today?¡±


    It was a controversial move, but after two weeks of kicking the shit out of them, maybe it would work. The best way to win a fight was to make sure there wouldn¡¯t be a fight. Maybe some of the younger members could be scared off without killing. As much as Quentin loved executing the raids, he still wasn¡¯t fond of the bloodbaths that ensued. The best fights were ones where the enemy ran, disarmed, or were crippled but lived as an example.


    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± said Quentin. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work we can always go back to plan A.¡±


    ¡°True enough!¡± Jonas grinned.


    One of the few female gladiators, Bridgitte, ran in from the courtyard, panting. ¡°Attack!¡± she called out. ¡°On the Boulevard, Warlords out in force and their leader¡¯s with them!¡±


    Quentin and Jonas looked at each other. They¡¯d been expecting something for a while, just not this big or close to home. An entire conversation passed silently in seconds. ¡°Everyone arm up and get ready. We move as one!¡±


    People got ready very quickly. Within five minutes of the announcement, Quentin and about a dozen Shades poured out of the garden and the courtyard, masks on. The guards looked to nearly shit themselves and raised their weapons, but the Shades didn¡¯t attack and neither did neighborhood security. They were no strangers to the Shades moving in and out and there was no doubt about to be another complaint from the neighbors, but they could get in line.


    His men rushed out past him, forming a line before Quentin arrived. The Warlords were there, right about to turn the corner down their street. The Shades were horribly outnumbered, but the others would get there eventually. The terrain would work in their favor if Quentin could maintain control.


    Christophe stepped forward. ¡°What¡¯s with the mask, Freak? Did I bust up your face that badly last time we met?¡±


    Quentin fought a shudder. It didn¡¯t take much to remember the pain and the way his brain just stopped working with each hit. Instead he smiled behind the mask and tilted his head. ¡°Sure did. Took me an entire week to heal that one off. This mask¡¯s padded, so the next time you hit me it won¡¯t hurt as much. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He stepped out in front as his men laughed. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come here, Christophe.¡±


    ¡°Why? What¡¯re you going to do, run into my fist and die again?¡± He closed the distance until he loomed large over Quentin. ¡°How did you get back up?


    Fear came easily, and Quentin didn¡¯t fight it. It was just like any other fight where nerves crept up on him. It meant that no matter what else he was, Quentin remained human. Christophe didn¡¯t need to know that. He just shrugged, putting as much life into the motion as he could. It was no different than wearing his skull mask and fighting in the arena, the stakes just mattered more to him now.


    ¡°I¡¯m the Darkstar¡¯s favorite child and I¡¯m going to keep coming back until I finally kill you.¡± He kept his voice as calm as possible, bored even. It did the trick. Christophe¡¯s face twisted in a sneer.


    ¡°Then I guess I¡¯m going to have to try harder to make it stick, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    The next thing Quentin knew the world flickered out of existence and for a brief eternity he didn¡¯t exist. Then the pain came rushing in and reminded him he wasn¡¯t dead yet, just knocked back into his men. They caught him and got him back on his feet just in time for the fight to truly start.


    Christophe took a step back and let his men move forward. The Warlords were universally young and fierce men the city forgot. They had piss and vinegar and nothing to lose, but that didn¡¯t mean they were good fighters. They crashed into the Shade¡¯s shield wall, and with a shouted order from Bruce, the shield wall threw them back.


    The men behind them moved forward as the wall dropped low and let the next wave strike. Swords and clubs and knives flashed and the first row of Warlords took some weapons to the face and chest. Then the attackers withdrew and the wall raised again. It happened in the time it took to let out a breath. The defenders advanced down the alley.


    ¡°What the hell is this, Quintius?¡± Christophe bellowed as more of his men tried again. ¡°Too afraid to come out and fight me yourself?¡±


    ¡°Sure am!¡± Quentin called back. He motioned for them to advance and they did, creeping forward inches. The end of the alley loomed, along with dozens more combatants trying to force their way in. ¡°You¡¯ve got us outnumbered, I¡¯m afraid. You could always go home!¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    With a growl, Christophe pushed the line forward. The shield wall had only normal sized bucklers, not the proper shields the legion had when they did this tactic. Christophe reached right over the wall and grabbed a Shade by the throat. He yanked hard and flung the poor bastard into the middle of a bunch of Warlords. Their friend didn¡¯t last long.


    Quentin¡¯s stomach dropped, and he wasn¡¯t the only one affected. With an enraged cry, the line broke as the Shades went on the full offensive. Christophe¡¯s dark, beady eyes glittered with amusement and triumph. Quentin made sure he was at the front of the line when they came out of the alley. He blocked one strike and thrust his sword forward, dropping a combatant. The man had no sooner fallen than a replacement showed up, screaming in Quentin¡¯s face.


    All around him, the battle raged about as well. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bruce use his superior height and reach to thrust a spear through a teenager¡¯s chest. He lashed out with his foot to unstick the boy, falling back right before a sword strike could take him in the neck. Renee wasn¡¯t so lucky. She darted forward, a knife in each hand, when a club came down on her head. She dropped to the ground and a few seconds later the bastards descended on her.


    They were horribly outnumbered, their main advantage was failing more by the second, and the chaos of battle made control all but impossible. Quentin threw himself forward, tackling a Warlord before he could end Jonas. He hit the ground and rolled, coming back up in almost one smooth motion just in time to be stabbed in the chest.


    The knife buried itself in the armor, piercing it and his chest but falling short of doing anything dangerous. The gangster had enough time to look regretful before Jonas stabbed him from behind and Quentin kicked him to the ground. The knife remained embedded in the armor and his chest, an annoying pinprick of pain throbbing in the background.


    Christophe roared like an enraged beast, but the Shades continued pushing them back out of the alley bit by bit. The street opened up and Christophe remained surrounded by men, occasionally interfering to turn the tide of an independent fight. He was better at this than Quentin, he realized. He knew when to fight and when to lead.


    Quentin trusted his men to fight and fight well together especially, but this kind of chaotic battle only happened at the Colosseum a few times a year and it wasn¡¯t to the death. His Shades held their own well enough, but the sheer numbers worked against them. The Warlords may have been a chaotic mess of violent street rats, but even a horde of rats could kill a dunewalla if they put their minds to it. Quentin stayed in the front, shoulder to shoulder with Jonas as they deflected an attack only to counter it after.


    They worked together well. With Jonas and Bruce by his side, the three of them did some damage. Enough to turn the tide maybe, before the Shades came all the way out of the alley and poured into the streets. The line didn¡¯t disappear so much as it got wider and harder to defend. Out in the open like this, Christophe decided it was time to up the stakes.


    ¡°Come at me, Quintius!¡± Christophe shouted. The bastard remained unarmed and dangerous in spite of it. He stepped out into the open, motioning for his men to leave him. They spread out, giving their leader some space.


    Almost immediately a Shade went for Christophe, bringing his sword down on Christophe¡¯s chest. The blade hit clothes and skin, cutting through his tunic but not even opening a line in the Warlord¡¯s skin. Christophe grabbed him by the skull and brought him down to his rising knee. The mask crunched and the gladiator fell. Christophe didn¡¯t give him a chance to hit the ground. His other hand went around the poor man¡¯s skull and together they twisted his head around until it snapped.


    ¡°The longer you resist, the more of your men will die! Give yourself up and they can walk away.¡±


    Quentin paused, staring at the dead man. How many of them had fallen by now? Five? Six? Ten? They were running out of men. That¡¯s when Quentin caught a glimpse of a welcome sight on the other side of the Warlord horde. The rest of his Shades came from the other direction, where they¡¯d been getting lunch. They were going to meet up with the rest of them for the raid. It looked like a runner got to them.


    ¡°You sure about that, Christophe?¡± Quentin called back, stepping into Christophe¡¯s range. The other Warlords ignored Quentin, fighting against Jonas and Bruce, who moved with him. ¡°I think you¡¯re going to die today!¡±


    Sword and shield at the ready, Quentin launched himself at the bigger man. Christophe was waiting for him and swung out with one meaty arm. Quentin ducked it and slashed up at the skin. It did no damage, but by then Quentin danced out of reach, circling his larger foe. Christophe whirled around swinging wildly. Quentin¡¯s sword caught his arm, but it did nothing to stop its momentum. The next hit wasn¡¯t as bad as the others, but it still knocked the sense out of him.


    He caught himself on a nearby building and moved before Christophe¡¯s follow up could crush him. The Warlord¡¯s fist crashed into the building. When he pulled his fist back part of the building came with it, dust and chunks of clay tumbling to the ground. Quentin kept his momentum and thrust his sword into Christophe¡¯s gut. Once again it cut the cloth but not the skin underneath.


    ¡°How?¡± Quentin demanded, blocking Christophe¡¯s next wide punch.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who can cheat death,¡± he growled. He raised his fist high. Without even thinking about it Quentin raised his shield to block an attack that never came. Christophe¡¯s foot went arcing up into his gut. It didn¡¯t hurt as bad as being punched in the face, but it knocked the air out of him. He managed to hold onto his sword and stay upright, but barely. He fell backwards again, struggling to breathe.


    A quick burst of healing did nothing but make it hurt worse. He looked up helplessly as Christophe came for him, picking up momentum for the real attack that would either take Quentin¡¯s head off his shoulders or feel like it did.


    Bruce threw himself sideways into Christophe. He jabbed violently with his spear, doing everything in his power to break the skin and stab the man. The tip of the spear slid along Christophe¡¯s skin, doing nothing for several seconds until it finally bit into his chest, right above the heart. The Warlord hissed, and the next thing any of them knew his hand was around Bruce¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Bruce, no!¡± Jonas called out. Quentin wheezed his agreement, reaching forward, but it was too late.


    The gladiator¡¯s eyes widened. Christophe grinned and squeezed. His hand quivered with the effort of crushing his throat, but there was nothing to be done. He threw Bruce onto the ground, where the gladiator reached for his throat, struggling for air. It was an ugly, dirty struggle that didn¡¯t last for long. As the battle raged on around them, the light went out of Bruce¡¯s eyes.


    Jonas screamed and went for Christophe, and Quentin was only half a second behind. Two opponents was probably a more fair match, but Christophe didn¡¯t look too worried. He laughed even, swinging a lumbering fist at Jonas. It would take a lot more than that to catch the teen, and it gave Quentin the perfect opportunity to slash Christophe¡¯s arm. Much like at the party blood beaded along the wound, but didn¡¯t fall.


    From the west, the rest of the gladiators pressed in on the mass of Warlords. They were surrounded now, fighting their best and still not falling but Quentin¡¯s fighters hit their second win, shouting with triumph as they hemmed the Warlords in, making the circle tighter and tighter. None of it mattered to the three men locked in battle.


    Christophe had all the grace and dignity of a raging bull, but he didn¡¯t need much else. As Quentin and Jonas danced around him getting in little cuts where they could, both knew it would only take one good hit to knock them out of the fight. Hours and hours of practice fighting against each other and with each other had Jonas and Quentin in harmony, both with the same sword and shield and emphasis on speed and precision.


    Little bit little, the giant was fading. It started as a persistent huff as he breathed. Then his punches came slower as more and more red showed on his body, little lines going nowhere. Quentin¡¯s heart pounded with the thrill of battle, the sense of weakness. Christophe jerked and Quentin leapt into action, going for a killing thrust.


    It was a feint. Faster than Quentin could believe, Christophe hurled himself out of the way, right as Jonas struck as well. Their attacks went towards each other. Quentin did his best to stop but momentum sent him crashing into Jonas. He had just enough time to avoid impaling his friend, but they went down to the ground together. Christophe¡¯s foot came crashing down on Quentin¡¯s spine a second later.


    Quentin screamed in pain, unable to hide it. Something crunched and the agony faded into a ghost of its former self, like a finger burned long after it pulled away from the flame. He tried to move but couldn¡¯t. Oh god, not this again. He braced himself for the pain this time, teeth clenched so tight he thought they might crack. When the pain came, it came all at once in a blinding white flash.


    Before he had time to make use of his healing, Christophe picked him up and threw him at the nearest wall. Quentin collided with it, struggling to get to his feet. He was up in time to see Christophe grab Jonas by the throat and lift him high into the air. The teen struggled, but it was useless. A second later his mask came off.


    ¡°I remember you,¡± Christophe purred. ¡°You were with him when I killed him. Say goodbye, kid.¡±


    Jonas cried out as best as he could with his throat being crushed. Quentin screamed, an empty, wordless plea. There was no way to get there in time. There was no stopping Christophe from killing the last reminder he had of Demetrius.


    Christophe jerked violently. And again, and again. Quentin blinked and saw little shafts of wood sticking out of Christophe¡¯s chest and shoulders. And then more and more peppered him, sticking in his big stomach and even one in his neck. He dropped Jonas, clutching at his wounds, making an awful sound.


    Quentin looked up. On the rooftops were Razia, Isa, and the rest of the girls, all holding bolters. Their most recent purchase, usable by anyone regardless of experience fighting. Razia flashed him a fierce grin before she peppered Christophe with more tiny bolts. Any one of them was enough to injure a man, even if not able to kill him outright. Enough bolts and anyone would fall, even a giant like Christophe, and the girls looked set to test that theory out.


    ¡°R-retreat!¡± Christophe shouted. The fighting almost paused as his men heard his words and struggled to understand them. Quentin picked himself up off the ground. With a strangled cry he charged Christophe. With nowhere to go now and a dozen new tiny injuries, Christophe barely had time to catch Quentin by the wrist.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Christophe?¡± Quentin hissed. ¡°Afraid you might¡¯ve bitten off more than you can chew? Stay a while. You promised to kill me, remember?¡±


    Christophe¡¯s arm wavered as he held Quentin off. Rage twisted his features into something inhuman. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you, you moonkissed freak. If not today, then tomorrow or the day after. You have no future. You are dead!¡±


    All Quentin could do was laugh. Even when Christophe snarled and twisted, pulling Quentin with him. The giant threw him into the crowd, crashing against his own men. Then he ran. He ran, and after a second¡¯s hesitation his men followed. They broke through the western ring and went right back the way they came.


    Less than half his men remained, and the ones who were left didn¡¯t last long. The retribution of the Shades was terrible. Most of the wounded were dead by the time Quentin stood up and helped his gang to their feet as well. A quick check over their wounds and he determined they¡¯d live. The same couldn¡¯t be said for everyone else.


    Of the nearly fifty gladiators he started the day with, nearly fifteen had fallen. Most dead, some just horribly injured. Either way, it was a bad day for the Shades. Quentin swallowed a lump in his throat. Now that the battle was over, the hangover came with a vengeance, clubbing him over the head with exhaustion and the dull ache of loss. His friends were dead. They won and drove the Warlords off, but at such a high cost.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Jonas asked him.


    Quentin looked around at the carnage all around them. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

 Chapter 103: The Mad Shapers Wrath

    It had been five months since Piro Pentius went on a raid, and by the gods it felt fantastic to be back in action. The thrill of wandering the streets with a small team of his most elite killers couldn¡¯t be rivaled, and the lack of it was something Razia would pay for when she returned to the fold. For now, he took a big deep breath of the midday Orchrisan air, looking around at the buildings along North River Row. The architecture was newer here, and in better condition.


    Sure would be a shame if something happened to it.


    Piro burst out laughing, making the nearest two men turn to him. Needle and Spike weren''t the brightest, but they were loyal and good at what they did. They didn¡¯t need smarts to follow orders and fuck shit up. Piro waved them off, saying, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, just a funny thought I had. You lads ready for some action?¡±


    There were six of them, seven counting Piro, all dressed in cloaks. These days it wasn¡¯t uncommon to see people hide their identity, and with the gang war, who could blame them? It gave them the perfect cover, and their numbers were much smaller than the battles going on around town. Gods but the moonkissed bastard had been persistent and thorough in his raids. Finally striking back made Piro giddy.


    ¡°Hell yeah we are!¡± Spike said, pumping a ringed fist into the air. Brick, despite his name, wasn¡¯t entirely stupid and grabbed the mook by the wrist. He shook his head.


    ¡°Are you stupid? We don¡¯t want to attract any attention yet. Do we?¡± He turned to Piro.


    Piro shook his head. ¡°Not yet. Not until we¡¯re in the right place. For now, we¡¯re just a group of humble travelers, out for a stroll during these dangerous, troubled times. Brick, I want you in front when we arrive. When we get there, knock on the door.¡±


    Brick grinned, showing missing teeth. ¡°You got it, boss.¡± He cracked his knuckles, showing rings on every finger.


    All of his men were well equipped with rings and amulets and even weapons Piro spent weeks upon weeks crafting. Christophe was a better field leader. Piro would never dispute that fact. But when it came down to strong, surgical assaults, a handful of skilled monsters with magical artifacts could get a lot done in a short amount of time. Christophe was the hammer, and Piro was the scalpel.


    The idea of himself as something surgical, precise, and clean made Piro laugh. Then again, a lot of things made Piro laugh. His men had largely grown used to him giggling or busting up laughing at jokes and thoughts only he was privy to. They were more scared of him when he stopped laughing.


    ¡°Well then?¡± Piro made a shooing motion with his hands. ¡°Let¡¯s go pay Mr. Cicero a much deserved visit, shall we?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t far from North River Row to Mr. Cicero¡¯s headquarters. The large, if featureless, building sat tucked away in a corner with only one way out and in. Normally a good security feature, today it made Piro¡¯s job so much easier. The seven men walked in two lines side by side, with Brick at the front and Piro at the back. They weren¡¯t alone as they arrived at Cicero¡¯s gambling house. People went in and out and two men dressed for a fight stood guard out front.


    Piro almost felt bad for them.


    ¡°Alright Brick, make our entrance spectacular!¡±


    The two guards saw the seven men and instantly were on edge. One of them drew his weapon, and the other stood in front of the door, waving a rich looking lady in a very nice blue dress out of the way. Her eyes darted between the guards and the Warlords. She beat a hasty retreat, just in time to avoid getting hurt.


    Brick pulled a ring off his thumb. It had a large red gem in the center. He twisted the gem three times and threw it between the two guards. They had just enough time to realize how fucked they were before they exploded. The second the ring hit the ground between them it detonated, turning into an enormous fireball making everyone shield their faces.


    Piro threw off his cloak, no longer needing it. He was dressed in a bright red tunic, auburn hair wild and free, with golden sandals and bracelets. His fingers too were covered in rings, and he wore the silver mushroom against his chest. With a stretch and a roll of his neck, he was ready to go all out.


    ¡°What¡¯re you waiting for, boys? Let¡¯s have some fun!¡± With a cheer his team stepped over the bodies of the guards and crammed into the gambling house, drawing their weapons but waiting until Piro stepped up before they did anything.


    Cicero¡¯s place was much like he last remembered it. A gaudy place for stick-up-their-ass rich people to gamble and feel like they were slumming it or doing something risky instead of just forking over shards to the king of the north. Well, it was definitely risky now. There were over a hundred people in there, most of them patrons but plenty of Cicero¡¯s men as well. They were well outnumbered, which would make this all the sweeter.


    ¡°Good morning everyone!¡± Piro called out, drawing on his deep reservoir of power to enhance his voice and make it carry. ¡°You all have some awful luck. Thanks to Mr. Cicero¡¯s declaration of war, this is the place we¡¯re raiding. If you want to survive, you will drop any and all weapons you¡¯re carrying, hand over your valuables, and keep your heads down. You got it?¡±


    Silence.


    By an unspoken agreement, all of Cicero¡¯s men converged on the ground floor. They directed the patrons to get behind them. Dozens of rich, soft idiots scrambled to get to safety. One of the guards stepped forward, drawing a nasty curved sword. ¡°You picked the wrong place to target,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re horribly outnumbered and you don¡¯t cross Cicero.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t,¡± Piro replied with a manic grin, ¡°but I do and I¡¯m having the time of my life. Hey guys, want to see a trick?¡±


    The thing about magic people didn¡¯t understand was how simple it could be. Maybe not for Speakers, who had to learn words of power and allow their bodies to become a conduit for the magic to travel through. Shapers on the other hand, their magic came from within and it was like flexing a muscle to use it. So many people in the city thought they had power. The fools had no clue what real power looked like. Piro delighted in showing them.


    Piro gathered up his magic, feeling it all throughout his body coming together. He pointed a finger to the poor dumb bastard in front and clawed his hand. The purest expression of magical power was as simple as it got. Every shaper learned how to throw raw force around. That wasn¡¯t complicated. The hard part was judging how much force to use. Piro poured power beneath the leader¡¯s feet until his head throbbed.


    ¡°Up you go!¡± Piro called out. The man furrowed his brow before pure force launched him upwards and backwards. He hurtled through the air, screaming until he crashed into the office on the second story. Piro laughed as he thumped against it and then dropped twenty feet to the floor below. The merc landed wrong on a table filled with dice and shards. He didn¡¯t get up. One of the rich patrons screamed.


    All around Piro, his men pointed and laughed. That seemed to be the final straw for Cicero¡¯s men. With a primal roar they attacked. Piro¡¯s boys threw their cloaks off. Each of them wielded a different enchanted weapon, save for Brick who didn¡¯t need anything other than his rings. They stepped in front of Piro and readied themselves. Twenty against seven. The poor bastards didn¡¯t have a chance.


    Brick met his opponents first, punching the air between them. His rings glowed and a ring of light shone over his hand. The first attacker brought a sword down on the ring. He bounced off and hurtled backwards, rolling along the floor. Brick wasted no time in following it up with his other hand, connecting with the next merc¡¯s face. There was a sizzle and the smell of burnt flesh and he fell to the ground twitching.


    Needle set his spear into the ground and readied himself. Before the first fighter came to him he twisted the shaft and the weapon extended forward three feet, right through his foe¡¯s throat. Another twist and it retracted back to its original size. Three down, seventeen to go.


    Cicero¡¯s men fanned out as they charged. Piro held his hands up together, fingers splayed wide but the thumbs touched. Magic was simple. You just had to feel it, and Piro knew what he was doing. Right as the line made it to them they crashed into an invisible wall. The wall shattered on contact and Piro faltered, taking a step back and letting his men go to work.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Magic was simple, but it was uncommon and a great tool to work with. It was nothing compared to the advantage of his enchanted armory. Each of his men was armed with a small fortune in enchantments, every one of them taking him days or weeks to make. He didn¡¯t get them out often, but today seemed as good a day as any to flex and bloody Cicero¡¯s nose.


    That reminded him, it wasn¡¯t his job to deal with the hired help. Seeing his man, the creatively nicknamed Smash, swing his hammer into a man¡¯s chest and the chest all but exploding told him they had it well in hand. Piro whistled as he walked around the edge of the room, over to the Dunewalla pit. An older woman in a very nice dress whimpered as he got near.


    ¡°Shhh shhh shh,¡± Piro held his finger up to his lips. ¡°I hate crying. If you keep crying I will melt your face off.¡± This of course only made her cry harder. One of Cicero¡¯s men broke off from the others and came right at him. Piro held his hand out. Another flex of his draining reservoir, another push of will and imagination and the air in front of his hand ignited in a fiery cone. The screams of agony warmed Piro¡¯s heart, and also the room.


    Piro continued on, sauntering past cowering nobles and politicians. Up to the stairs leading up to Cicero¡¯s office. Just because it amused him, he knocked on the door before entering. ¡°Oh Cicero, you and I have some¡­Oh. Huh.¡±


    The window to the office was open, and a rope ladder hung, dangling all the way down to the ground. Piro frowned. ¡°Well, that¡¯s no fun.¡± When had Cicero escaped? When he first heard Piro¡¯s voice? Or maybe when Brick blew up the doors. The godsdamned coward!


    ¡°Well, shit. This could be a wash.¡± Piro shook his head and searched the office. Whenever Cicero had left, he hadn¡¯t had time to take all his valuables with him. Piro pocketed fifty aquilos and a couple of good cigars, tucking them away into the bag tied at his belt.


    When he came back downstairs, the fighting was almost over. Slash clutched at a wound in his side, Needle had a cut on his scalp. Brick stood over a pile of bodies and roared. The few remaining fighters flinched away from him. One dropped his weapon and held his hands up. Needle extended his spear into his gut anyway. Piro snickered.


    Seeing him, one of the rich bitches made a break for it. Smash caught the man and threw him to the ground. Two seconds later Smash popped his skull like a pimple. That of course just earned more screams from the others, as well as sobbing, begging, and bargaining. A dozen voices overlapped each other, but Piro didn¡¯t pay them any attention.


    ¡°Bad news everyone,¡± he said, voice echoing loudly in the building. ¡°Our man of the hour ran away, leaving all of you to me. Now, I came here for his head, but it looks like I don¡¯t get my way. I don¡¯t like not getting my way, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh gods, please let us go,¡± an older man Piro vaguely recognized as the north¡¯s magistrate. ¡°I¡¯ll give you whatever you want, just let me and my wife go!¡±


    It would be stupid to hurt him. It would bring down so much heat and unwanted attention. On the other hand, this many important northerners in one place, where they were supposed to be kept safe by Cicero¡­Piro giggled. A small, unhinged giggle that grew into mad laughter.


    ¡°Damn. Today¡¯s not your day, I¡¯m afraid!¡± Piro held up his hand and a torrent of flame bathed the magistrate and the woman next to him, who Piro assumed was his wife or lover. Bad luck for everyone.


    The others screamed and some tried to run again. His men fanned out around the entrance and got to work. Once the magistrate collapsed to the ground and screamed no longer, Piro turned the flame on the others near him. Onto the walls, the stairs. The building itself wouldn¡¯t burn, as it was good strong firebaked clay. Everything inside the gambling house would. Including and especially the people. The scent of burning hair might¡¯ve been awful, but their flesh smelled uncomfortably delicious.


    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Brick said to him, flinching at telling Piro to do anything. Good, he still knew his place.


    ¡°Sure sure,¡± Piro said, turning the flames on the rest of the room, walking through. The heat rose as wooden tables and stairs burned. The patrons of the establishment lay dead or dying and the entire place would be a burned out husk in an hour. He snapped his fingers and motioned for people to leave.


    Everyone headed out, Piro bringing up the rear again. His head throbbed and his knees shook a little. His reservoir was drained almost completely dry, but it was a satisfying sort of exhaustion. It had been too long since he got to exert himself. Risk versus reward kept him playing it safe, but with his mushroom charm now helping hide him from the Palace¡¯s Shadowspeakers, he finally had time to play.


    Piro and his men took to the streets, running away from the scene of the crime at full speed. They weren¡¯t the only ones. Plumes of smoke rose into the sky and the smell of burning was strong, even here. The crowd gave them cover as they headed south. Everything was going fine until they ran into one last hiccup.


    The Watch arrived in force, blocking the bridge south. ¡°Halt!¡± the leader called.


    Piro ran his hands together, imagining rolling a ball together in his palms. A flame grew there and he breathed life into it. The rolling ball of fire grew, flaring up violently.


    ¡°Magic!¡± The silver badge in front screamed.


    He couldn¡¯t do anything else. Piro pushed his power into it and flung it at the group. As it left him, his reservoir flickered and then drained completely dry as all his remaining power bled into the fireball. It was too much, so much more than he intended. When the fireball hit the leader, it detonated with enough force to send everyone within thirty feet crashing to the ground. Some of the Watch were unfortunately positioned and tumbled over the edge and down into the river.


    At least it would put out the fire. Piro giggled before his vision turned black and his body failed him.


    The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he wasn¡¯t dead. A promising start. Piro sat up slowly, groaning with the effort. He looked around. Barren, poorly decorated, and smelled like sweat and desperation. Ahh, one of the few safehouses even Razia didn¡¯t know about. He slid out of bed and nearly collapsed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Christophe said from behind him. ¡°Seems like we¡¯re both in need of a rest.¡±


    Piro climbed back into bed and rolled onto his back, grunting. ¡°I haven¡¯t pushed myself like that in a long time. It felt fantastic! How did your mission go?¡±


    Christophe grunted back. ¡°A draw. We trashed the Boulevard of Saint Trassius until Quintius and his men showed up. Killed a good chunk of them, but reinforcements showed up and surrounded us. Lost half my men, but shit, not like we don¡¯t have others. Didn¡¯t manage to kill Quintius but I got a couple friends of his. The whores showed up with bolters and we had to leave.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Piro groaned, chuckling. ¡°I think my mission fared a little better. We got to Cicero¡¯s place and --¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Christophe. ¡°Brick filled me in on everything that happened. Cicero wasn¡¯t there, so you torched a bunch of high profile people who have families and friends who will want to get vengeance on us. Well done, you crazy motherfucker. What were you thinking?¡±


    Piro rolled over onto his side to face him. Sure enough, Christophe was covered in bloody bandages. The bed looked comically small with the giant on it. Piro bit back laughter. His partner wouldn¡¯t appreciate it.


    ¡°Well,¡± he started, ¡°I figured they¡¯ll be just as pissed at Cicero for running away and letting his clientele die. That¡¯s not going to look good for him.¡±


    Christophe made a face, but he nodded. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. It¡¯s not going to look good for us either. You piss off people in power, they might pressure the palace to actually do something about us! At bare minimum the streets won¡¯t be safe for any of us for a while. You just slowed us down considerably, and for what? An advantage we can¡¯t use?¡±


    Piro did laugh this time. ¡°So we lay low for a week or two. We keep our eyes and ears open and stay moving from place to place until the dust settles. I go to some of my friends and have them whisper in the right ears. Before too long we have a crackdown on gang activity, focusing on the¡­What were they calling themselves again?¡±


    ¡°The Shades.¡±


    ¡°The Shades, right. Gods that moonkissed bastard is gloomy. Decent name for intimidation. A little surprised it wasn¡¯t taken, considering how -- ¡°


    ¡°Piro?¡± Christophe interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m tired, sore, and not in the mood for one of your tangents.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Piro flashed the rare apologetic smile at his partner. ¡°We draw attention to them. With Cicero on the ropes he won¡¯t be able to beat a propaganda war. I¡¯m telling you, give me a couple of weeks and we¡¯ll have a new plan of attack and a ton of pressure to heap on them. I give it a month before we both get what we want.¡±


    ¡°And what about the moonkissed?¡± Christophe said. ¡°He¡¯s really alive and kicking, and they almost got me today. I want him dead. For real this time.¡±


    Piro thought about it for a second. ¡°I think I may have something. It¡¯s tricky and expensive but if we can take him out, the rest will fall in line. How do you feel about going invisible?¡±


    Christophe groaned. ¡°I hate it. It makes me dizzy and it¡¯s impossible to avoid bumping into people. Kind of defeats the whole purpose when you¡¯re this big.¡±


    ¡°Leave that to me,¡± Piro waved him off. ¡°I¡¯ve got plans and plans, Christophe. Plans for days.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but most of them are shit,¡± said Christophe, but it sounded more tired than anything.


    Piro didn¡¯t let that hold him back. The difference between him and Cicero was that Cicero craved control and discipline. Precision, restraint, and order were fantastic if you liked things boring and predictable. Opportunity, real opportunity, came from chaos. Stir up enough shit to confuse everyone else and Piro would find a way through to victory.


    It wouldn¡¯t be long now before Razia was back, at his feet. He flopped back onto his back, smiling. She¡¯d be his perfect companion when he broke that little defiant streak. Christophe could help him with that. Yes, whatever came next, Piro was more than confident he could meet it head on. And if not, then he¡¯d just upheave the playing board and try again later. He¡¯d have his fun either way.

 Chapter 104: Long Live The King

    The aftermath of Christophe¡¯s raid blurred together for Quentin. After the Warlords retreated it was time to gather their wounded and dead and for the entire street to come back out and survey the damage. Even longer after that, the Watch showed up. This was where Quentin expected to be arrested yet again, but it never happened. Instead the gladiators, now sans their masks and armor, helped pick up the pieces and clean up.


    So many dead Shades in one bad fight. They went from two weeks of no real casualties to losing a third of them in one go, all thanks to directly facing Christophe. It hurt worse than the handful of wounds Quentin took in the battle, already healed and dealt with. The clean up made it easier, gave everyone something to focus on while they processed the rage and grief.


    Jonas was a godsend. Despite nearly dying at the end, he led the efforts to get help for the wounded and even talked to the Watch for the rest of them. Quentin watched from a distance, numb and screaming inside at the same time. The teen had a friendly, guileless face even when twisted in pain and grief. He looked so godsdamned young, and yet he was as seasoned a fighter as any of them. He had a future in leadership, if Quentin didn¡¯t get him killed first.


    Eventually Quentin helped move the bodies of their fallen and clean them up some, waiting for priests of the Darkstar to show up and take them away to be cleaned further and prepared for funeral rites and cremation. On and on it went, Quentin hardly registering when the sun set and he could see the damage better. Razia dragged him back inside soon after that, and he ate as much as he could stand and slept hard.


    The next day, Razia dragged him to the bath for a soak and silence. Together they just rested in the hot water, neither saying much, just enjoying each other¡¯s company for the first real time in a couple of weeks. Another thing for Quentin to feel guilty over. It was almost a relief when Cicero¡¯s messenger came.


    ¡°He said Cicero needs to speak with you two,¡± Lucy said, standing in the entrance of the bathroom.


    ¡°Tell him we¡¯ll be there in just a few minutes,¡± said Razia. Lucy nodded and left. She turned to Quentin, cupping his cheek in one hand. ¡°Are you good for a meeting? If you need a break, time to grieve or think, we can probably put it off until later today, at least.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°No. There¡¯s no point. We need to face up with this sooner or later. I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡±


    They found the messenger being interrogated by Isa.


    ¡°And how do we know this isn¡¯t a trap by the Warlords to get them? Do you think we¡¯re stupid?¡± Isa folded her arms over her chest.


    The messenger sighed. Quentin thought it was a good question but Razia came to his rescue. ¡°I¡¯ve seen him before. Could be a traitor, but more likely he really is one of Cicero¡¯s messenger bitches.¡±


    ¡°Yep. That¡¯s me,¡± the messenger said with no life in his voice. ¡°Can we get moving already? Shit¡¯s looking bad and he needs your help. If you¡¯d rather I go back to him and explain you were too suspicious to answer a summons, then¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d understand, given how bad yesterday was,¡± Razia shot back. Quentin put his hand on her arm.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go. But I¡¯m not being disarmed for anything, not even Cicero.¡±


    The messenger nodded. ¡°You might be one of the only people Cicero trusts right now.¡±


    Well, if that wasn¡¯t a bad sign, Quentin didn¡¯t know what was. The messenger led them through a winding path northeast, switching streets and taking multiple corners. Quentin assumed it was meant to throw off any potential tails, but didn¡¯t care to ask. The sooner they got this over with, the better.


    They eventually arrived at a nondescript house in one of the most average neighborhoods in town. No guards stood outside, but movement by the windows told Quentin they weren¡¯t alone. The messenger knocked on the door, a precise pattern of quick raps with a couple of hard beats. The door opened and the messenger motioned with his head for them to enter. Taking a second to look at each other, Quentin and Razia went into what felt like a trap.


    It wasn¡¯t a trap. That much was clear when they made it inside. A dangerous looking man went to frisk them, but Quentin held out a hand. ¡°No. We¡¯re armed, we¡¯re staying armed. Either Cicero wants to see us or he doesn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Fine. One wrong move¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah, just let us through,¡± Razia shoved past him, Quentin just a step behind her.


    Cicero sat there, looking rough. Quentin couldn¡¯t see much of his usual detached amusement and composure. He looked nervous, tired, and upset. That wasn¡¯t nearly as much of a surprise as who sat with him.


    ¡°Omar?¡± Quentin stopped dead in his tracks. The Supreme Arbiter was across the table from Cicero, looking just as troubled and tired. ¡°What the hell are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Same as you, I suspect,¡± said Omar, standing. He held out his hand. Quentin shook it numbly. ¡°The street war is a massive concern, and the Warlords just upped the stakes dramatically. I¡¯m here to look for a solution to keep peace in our streets.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you work with him,¡± Quentin said, shaking his head. ¡°I thought you were one hundred percent committed to law and order.¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± Cicero said, sighing. ¡°It¡¯s called harm reduction, Quintius. You can¡¯t stop all crime and vice, but you can limit it and direct it if you¡¯re careful. It¡¯s not about elimination, it¡¯s about making it manageable for everyone in the city to live their lives in relative safety. And after yesterday¡¯s dual attacks, it was time to call in some help.¡±


    ¡°Dual attacks?¡± Razia¡¯s face dropped. ¡°You were hit too.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Cicero stroked his beard, practically pulling the hair out. ¡°While Christophe hit the Boulevard and your business, Piro paid me a personal visit. He¡­burned down my headquarters and murdered a lot of very important, high profile people. Including the magistrate and his wife, the head of the Gold Scarab Bank, a senator and his husband, and a high ranking priest of the Pierced Heart.¡±


    The news nearly bowled Quentin over. ¡°Then why not go after him directly then? There¡¯s no way he can survive that kind of heat coming down on him, can he?¡±


    Omar grimaced. ¡°I think you understand by now the law is not as straightforward as most assume. There are cracks certain people can fall into that make it harder to pursue, even in situations like this.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Quentin.


    ¡°Piro¡¯s got a lot of powerful friends,¡± Razia said. ¡°It¡¯s how he¡¯s operated for this long without someone legit shutting him down. He makes friends with all the major players in the south and offers them bribes and protection from his antics while also making it clear that if their support withdraws, so does his care. Standard racket stuff, but he¡¯s good at it.


    ¡°That¡¯s why he and Christophe are so effective together. Christophe handles the stuff on the street while Piro handles things behind the scenes. When Piro hits the street, it means they¡¯re serious and are out for blood. As Mr. Cicero found out. I know our relentless attacks have annoyed them, but I didn¡¯t expect him to strike at you directly.¡±


    ¡°I took out a number of his spies and may have poisoned a few of his lieutenants,¡± said Cicero with a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s not about what I¡¯ve done to him so much as what he hopes to do by attacking me. He¡¯s trying his best to make me look bad. He¡¯s been very good at it the past while, and -- ¡°


    A bang at the front door made them all look up. A guard yelled and then came the sounds of brief, pitched fighting. Quentin pulled out his knife in time for the first assailant to break through to the living room. His eyes darted around wildly, landing on Quentin and Razia. He made his choice and charged Razia, sword raised high.


    Quentin tackled him to the ground before he could get there. He raised up just enough to drive his knife into the assassin¡¯s neck, but more men burst into the room. One of them, a lean, sharp looking man in approaching middle age, went for Cicero.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Cicero stood up and opened his mouth, just in time to be run through with the man¡¯s sword. He gasped, grasping his killer¡¯s shoulders for support. ¡°Matheson¡­you fool¡­¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re the fool, Cicero,¡± he hissed as more of his men came into the room. ¡°Didn¡¯t see this coming, huh? You¡¯re weak and out of touch and --¡± Quentin launched himself at the man. They went tumbling to the ground, sword coming out of Cicero¡¯s gut and clattering to the ground. His men let out a cry behind him but Quentin took him out just as fast as he did the other.


    They pulled him off and then it was Quentin¡¯s turn to be run through. He gasped, the world going cold and empty before the sword retracted. He was already healing it by the time he hit the ground.


    ¡°Boss? Boss!?¡± One of them called out. ¡°Oh shit. Fuck. You¡­¡±


    Quentin looked up to see Omar standing in front of Razia, a grim look on his face. It was the look of a man who didn¡¯t expect to survive this. ¡°Please stop this, you have no idea who I am,¡± Omar tried.


    ¡°Sure I do,¡± the man who stabbed Quentin sneered. ¡°An eyewitness.¡± He and his partner advanced. That¡¯s when Quentin made his move.


    He grabbed Matheson¡¯s sword and continued the stabbing chain, grabbing the man by his forehead before he drove the sword through his back. That left one more person, who looked at Quentin as if he should be dead. Fair enough, he supposed. Quentin pulled the sword out and pointed it at him.


    ¡°You could always surrender.¡±


    The man took exception to that. He swung at Quentin, who just leaned out of the way and slashed back, slicing a deep line in his stomach. The final attacker fell to the ground, clutching his guts and gasping. Quentin put him out of his misery.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± he told Omar and Razia. His pulse pounded with the sudden violence, all of his senses on high alert. He went back to the entrance to find the guards stationed there dead. As were the guards in front of the building, with the door wide open. A quick peek out the door and the street was completely clear. A small but unfortunately effective assault team.


    When Quentin came back, there were five dead bodies, one of them the person supposed to help them out of this mess. He dropped the sword and buried his face in his hands, groaning.


    ¡°Are you okay, Quentin?¡± Razia asked, coming up to him and touching the spot where the sword split his tunic. The skin was mostly smoothed over, a bit scabby.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. You two?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± said Razia.


    Omar swallowed hard, looking around. ¡°None of us are fine,¡± he said.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± Quentin pressed.


    The Supreme Arbiter shook his head. ¡°Do you two have any idea what this means? That was Matthias Matheson, leader of one of Cicero¡¯s most trusted crews. If they were willing to betray him, then that meant they had the support of some of Cicero¡¯s top advisors. We need to get out of here. Now.¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°Alright. Stay behind me.¡±


    The three of them left the house, carefully looking around before winding their way back the way they came, more or less. Rather than going back to the Garden, Omar led them to the northeast Watchtower. Quentin and Razia shared a look but said nothing as he brought them in past all the coppers and silvers watching them with interest.


    ¡°Supreme Arbiter!¡± The woman working the front stood up, turning pale.


    ¡°Ignore us, just here to use a private room,¡± he said without breaking his stride. The private room was just around the corner, and had a table and several chairs. He collapsed into one, and Quentin and Razia took chairs opposite him.


    ¡°So,¡± he began, staring at the table. ¡°I think that now would be a decent time to consider leaving town, if I were either of you two. I do not make this suggestion lightly, as I know this is your home and there are a lot of people relying on you. Things are about to get very, very bad in Orchrisus.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve dealt some real blows to the Warlords,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many of them we¡¯ve killed, but enough to make them desperate enough to make a big play like this. That must mean something.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the Warlords we need to worry about,¡± Razia said quietly. She looked about as troubled as Omar. ¡°It¡¯s Cicero¡¯s former men. He was the only one keeping everyone together. He ran things not because he was the most powerful or the richest, but because he made himself a lynchpin. Without him to balance things out, there¡¯s going to be a power vacuum, and war. More war.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Omar, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Everyone with ambition is going to step up and try to declare themselves king. More than that is the contingency Cicero had. In the event of his death, a number of things are set to happen. Some people will be assassinated, others have their secrets revealed.¡±


    ¡°Assassinations sound a lot worse,¡± Quentin said.


    Razia laughed. It was a desperate, we¡¯re-so-fucked kind of laugh. ¡°His specialty was information. His contingency is releasing all his blackmail material so that people turn on each other. Can¡¯t enjoy being king if everyone¡¯s murdering everyone else. Even if they don¡¯t target us, we¡¯re likely to be entirely on our own against the Warlords.¡±


    Quentin¡¯s stomach dropped. He had no illusions over their chance of victory alone. Gods, he didn¡¯t even know if he still had a gang after yesterday. How many people would fear for their lives or be bitter after the death of a friend and leave? And if gangs from the north blamed him and Razia for the violence¡­everyone was in danger. Not just him and Razia but Lucy, Isa, Samantha, and everyone else.


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Razia agreed. ¡°We might¡­We might consider leaving,¡± she said, sounding so very small.


    His blood turned to ice. As soon as Razia said it, everything in Quentin screamed for him to say no. This was their home, dammit. They fought so long and hard to get the Moonlit Garden up and running, and there were too many people relying on them to leave. Maybe it was the revelation that dying really wasn¡¯t the end that emboldened him, but he slammed his fist down on the table.


    ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere,¡± he said. ¡°We haven¡¯t lost yet. We¡¯ve got stuff we¡¯re working on to handle this. After yesterday, there¡¯s no way Piro and Christophe are going to make an appearance north again. This kind of big play, they¡¯re relying on the infighting to take us out. What if it doesn¡¯t?¡±


    Omar cleared his throat. He looked old then, much older than his fifty something years. ¡°You must consider how many people are going to blame this entire war and this attack and Cicero¡¯s assassination on you two. Some of them might be too busy dealing with old grudges, but I guarantee you an attempt on your lives. It¡¯s only a question of when.¡±


    Everything they said made sense. It didn¡¯t matter. After all of this effort, the idea of just giving up was¡­ ¡°No,¡± said Quentin. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving. You two can if you like, but I like my home and I¡¯m not going anywhere. If people come for me or ours I will cut them all down. Even if it takes me forever. What kind of help was Cicero expecting out of you?¡±


    Razia turned to face Omar. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°I know you¡¯re powerful, but don¡¯t you need to keep some distance so you¡¯re not obviously corrupt?¡±


    Omar¡¯s face twisted into rage. The first time Quentin could ever recall seeing him angry. ¡°I am not corrupt,¡± he hissed. ¡°Everything I do is for the stability of Orchrisus and her people. Most of the time that means working with the law and keeping order. Sometimes it means dirtying your hands so things don¡¯t get worse or out of control. Do you have any idea what it takes to try to manage the world¡¯s largest city?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Quentin, the answer pulled from him against his will. He shook his head, ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re corrupt. I know what it takes to run the Garden and keep it safe. I can only imagine it¡¯s worse on that scale. Razia didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡± He shot her a warning look. She nodded begrudgingly.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Omar said, forcing himself to calm down. ¡°To answer your question, I can manage the Watch. I have been managing the Watch. As far as the Northeast and Southeast Watchtowers are concerned, the Shades¡¯ masks are a sign of someone to be ignored. It can¡¯t and won¡¯t last forever, especially when violence gets worse, but you¡¯ve been shielded up until now.


    ¡°More importantly, I think we can move ahead of this. Believe it or not, you were one of the few people Cicero wasn¡¯t worried about, Quentin. I can get you some shards if I can move quickly. What you do with those is your business, but that and keeping the Watch from breaking down your door and dragging you in are a start. I¡¯m going to have my hands full managing the violence. So here¡¯s what you two can do for me.


    ¡°You need to lay low for a bit. Live your lives, but no more raids. No offensive actions of any kind. You need to stay put, shore up your defenses, and try your absolute best to not die or attract the attention of some of those who might resent you for your quick ascension in Cicero¡¯s graces.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll¡­try,¡± Razia said, sounding like she was forcing it.


    Omar chuckled. ¡°You cannot lie to me, Ms. Rashid. Do or don¡¯t, it¡¯s on the two of you. I¡¯ll do what I can but if you can¡¯t keep yourselves in check then you really are on your own.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t go south,¡± Quentin promised. ¡°Anything we do will stay north of the bridge.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s acceptable.¡± Omar stood up. ¡°I have a lot to do. I assume you two can show yourselves home safely.¡± With a respectful nod to each of them, Omar left.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just do nothing,¡± Razia said.


    ¡°I know,¡± Quentin replied. ¡°And we¡¯ll do what we can, but we won¡¯t go south. You and Isa¡¯s are working on the plan, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Razia. ¡°We¡¯ve got most of the details worked out. I¡­I can¡¯t believe Cicero¡¯s dead,¡± she said.


    He¡¯d been trying not to think about it too hard. ¡°We¡¯ll be okay,¡± he said, taking her hand in his. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to us. No matter what.¡±

 Chapter 105: Heres the Plan

    After two and a half weeks of open warfare, Razia couldn¡¯t help but feel a little useless. While Quentin and his Shades fought almost every day, attacking targets she picked out, there was always the little voice in the back of her head whispering about how safe she was. Her life wouldn¡¯t be at risk for any of it, unless they failed. Razia had a nice cushy position waiting safely at the Garden and managing the girls and security, handling money, and keeping everything running.


    Boring.


    Sure she was good at it, better than Quentin at the management aspects of the business for sure, but what about the thrills? What about the danger, the excitement, the risk? Being safe while others fought for her left a bad taste in Razia¡¯s mouth, but she couldn¡¯t think of any way around it. At a hair under five feet tall, she doubted she could intimidate children, and in a time of war like this, her ability to tempt and convince people didn¡¯t have much use. Razia could talk people into things, but rarely out of them.


    As bad as things were, not all news was bad news.


    ¡°Hey there,¡± said Razia, taking Samantha¡¯s hand. ¡°Welcome back, Sam.¡±


    Samantha blinked weakly up at her. Two weeks of being unconscious, clinging to life hadn¡¯t been kind to her. Her face and throat especially remained reddish in color. She lost a lot of weight and looked like a husk of her former self. Just the same, she tried to smile weakly. She opened her mouth, but only a rasp came out.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t try to talk just yet,¡± said Razia, squeezing her hand. ¡°The physician said there¡¯s likely to be some damage, but it could heal on its own. And if not, then we¡¯ll take you down to the temple for healing if we can.¡±


    Tears filled Samantha¡¯s eyes. She tried to speak once more, but the rasp worsened. One shaking, thin hand reached for her throat, tenderly touching it before jerking away as if her skin burned. Samantha closed her eyes, nodding briefly. The tears trailed down her cheeks. She made a motion with her hands and moved her lips. It took Razia a second, but she understood.


    ¡°Your family is okay, Sam. We¡¯ve been looking after them, and we¡¯d never let anything happen to them. Quentin and I have been sending money and Jackie¡¯s doing a great job looking after everyone else. You¡¯ll be so proud of him when you see how well he¡¯s doing.¡±


    From behind her, Isa sighed. Razia knew as harsh and irritable as the dusk-girl could be, she loved Sam as much as the rest of them. She stepped forward so Samantha could see her and said, ¡°We know what happened to you Sam, and we know who did it. And they¡¯re not going to get away with it. I promise you that.¡±


    Sam looked at Isa, opening her mouth once more. She thought better of it and just nodded. Then her eyelids fluttered closed, and her breathing evened out. Samantha was out again, but this time it seemed like proper sleep and not barely clinging to life after being poisoned. They took every victory they could.


    Outside the room, Isa said to Razia, ¡°Where¡¯s Quentin? I haven¡¯t seen him around today. Is he hiding?¡±


    Razia winced. ¡°Kind of. After the past few days he¡¯s taking a rest day. Gods know he needs it after all the attacks.¡±


    Just as they expected, once news of Cicero¡¯s death spread, the gangs sprang into motion. Most of them focused on each other, going after old grudges now reopened with the release of so much blackmail material. Some, of course, came to the Garden to try to capitalize on the bounty on Razia¡¯s head. Between Quentin, some of the more loyal Shades, and the Argonza Villas security team, they were turned away with only a few broken bones and one dead body.


    A storm took over Isa¡¯s face. ¡°He better not be crapping out again like after Maria. We absolutely cannot survive a week of him drinking and hating himself in a swamp of his own filth.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Razia. ¡°It¡¯s not like that this time. He just needs a break.¡±


    Some of the storm passed, but not all of it. ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of breaks right now. Not when we¡¯ve got a plan.¡±


    ¡°I know. He¡¯s just resting up for the next time someone comes here looking for a fight. He¡¯s not hiding, just resting.¡±


    Isa¡¯s eyes darted over to Quentin¡¯s room. ¡°I better remind him. Just in case.¡± Without hesitation, Isa went right into the bedroom, Razia trailing close behind.


    Quentin was in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Like usual he wasn¡¯t wearing much, and when Isa stormed in he jumped in place, grabbing his blanket.


    ¡°Save it,¡± Isa said. ¡°Everyone¡¯s already seen you naked, and I don¡¯t care.¡± Razia bit back laughter at the lie.


    ¡°...Okay,¡± Quentin grunted, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side. Even sitting he was taller than Razia, but eye level with Isa. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Is there another attack?¡± He looked over to his dresser, where his armor and sword waited for him.


    ¡°Not at the moment,¡± said Razia, sitting down next to him. ¡°We¡¯ve got good news. We¡¯ve come up with most of a plan, if it¡¯s not a bad time.¡±


    Quentin let out a world weary sigh. ¡°And if it¡¯s a bad time?¡±


    Isa grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up to look at her. ¡°Then you¡¯re going to deal with it and listen anyway. Then you can go back to taking a nap or feeling bad for yourself or whatever it is you¡¯re doing right now.¡±


    ¡°Isa!¡± Razia shot her a look, but it did nothing.


    ¡°I¡¯m just waiting,¡± said Quentin, icy blue eyes darkening. ¡°Omar¡¯s supposed to come by today with news for me. Is that alright Isa, or do I need to perform on command for you? I feel like shit and just want a godsdamned bit of quiet before the next disaster needs my attention.¡±


    Isa¡¯s eyebrows raised. It was the first time either of them could remember Quentin snapping back at her. Razia sat back and let it happen. To her surprise, Isa softened. ¡°Things are hard for you. They¡¯re hard for us all. As much as it pains me to admit it, we can¡¯t do this without you and we need you to be strong. Everyone¡¯s tired and scared, but they¡¯re less scared if you seem confident. What exactly is bothering you?¡±


    Razia wrapped her arms around Quentin¡¯s side and stayed quiet, for the most part. This was something new, something unexpected. Isa caught her eyes and sneered at her. She may have well admitted her weakness.


    ¡°I like fighting,¡± said Quentin with a shrug, ¡°but this has been¡­When I was an executioner, I killed everyone they sent my way with minimal complaints. I never liked the killing but I was good at it. It was simple. Now, everything I do is my choice. I have nothing and no one to hide behind. Every day I lead my men into a fight or raid, I¡¯m actively making a choice to kill people. Everything people have always said about it, it¡¯s true now. I¡¯m not a good man.¡±


    It was enough to break Razia¡¯s heart. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d brought it up. He remained strong most of the time, but the switch¡­She knew whose fault it was, and it wasn¡¯t Quentin¡¯s. All those bodies, all that blood, they were all on her hands. Maybe it was better Razia stayed in the Garden. It kept her out of trouble.


    ¡°Do you think Cicero was a good man?¡± Isa demanded in that no nonsense tone of hers. ¡°Do you think he was loved by all and respected for his kindness?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Quentin scoffed.


    ¡°Look around you. Things are worse without him. He kept worse people in check. Who cares if you¡¯re not a good person? In Orchrisus, good people are hard to come by and I don¡¯t value them in the slightest. Good people get killed or used. You might not be able to be good, but you know what you could be, Quentin?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, all of his attention on her.


    Isa bared her teeth in a fierce almost-smile. ¡°Necessary. You could be necessary the same way Cicero was. We can worry about being better people after the danger is over and the Warlords are all dead or gone. After we¡¯re done cleaning up Razia¡¯s mess we can take a good hard look at ourselves and be whatever we want to be.¡±


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    While the jab at Razia may have been unnecessary, it got the point across in a way Razia wasn¡¯t sure she could. She would¡¯ve focused on trying to uplift him instead of verbally slapping him and telling him to get over it. Surprisingly, it worked. Quentin almost smiled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be another Cicero,¡± Quentin whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to take control of the city. I just want to take control of our area and keep it safe.¡±


    ¡°Quentin, you¡¯re a big, scary, mean looking cunt,¡± Isa said. ¡°And I mean that as a compliment. You want to keep us safe? Use your image and stay looking like a big, scary, mean looking cunt. You can¡¯t afford to falter or look weak among the rest of the world. It¡¯s bad enough I have to see you like this.¡± But Isa smiled, and so did Quentin and Razia.


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± said Razia. ¡°She¡¯s a bitch about it, but she¡¯s right. We know what kind of person you are. So does Jonas and the gladiators. We took a major blow and we¡¯re bouncing back. We can do this. Especially with the plan we¡¯ve got. It¡¯s simple but it should work.¡±


    Quentin grunted his acknowledgement. ¡°What¡¯s the plan, then? You¡¯ve got me right where you want me.¡± He turned and planted a kiss on Razia¡¯s forehead. She smiled, getting even wider when she saw the sneer on Isa¡¯s face.


    ¡°The essence of it is that we¡¯re going to trick Christophe into trying to ambush you, and then we¡¯re going to ambush him!¡± Razia exclaimed.


    ¡°And how do you plan on doing that?¡± Quentin scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s a little far away and the city¡¯s not safe to travel right now.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Isa, ¡°but in a little bit it will be. What¡¯s going to happen is that Kelli will find out that people paying enough shards for one of our services will get your personal attention. We¡¯ll use that traitorous bitch to plant the idea of Christophe luring you to your death and we¡¯ll turn it around on him like that.¡± She snapped her fingers for emphasis.


    Quentin thought about it, expression turning from doubt to begrudging acceptance. ¡°That could work. It sounds a little simple though.¡±


    Isa chuckled. ¡°We dumbed it down for you. You¡¯re welcome. The little details we¡¯ll handle, you just need to worry about looking focused and oblivious to her. It¡¯s on us to work Kelli over.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle that,¡± said Razia, standing up. ¡°I¡¯ll pay her a personal visit and ask her about what she plans to do now that Cicero is dead. I¡¯ll steer her where I want her, and then we¡¯ll use Jenna to deliver the actual information to her. I¡¯m going to call in a favor with a rich merchant to enjoy Jenna¡¯s services for free, so long as he plays along like he¡¯s a big spender who wants to spoil her.¡±


    There was so much that could go wrong with the plan, but that could be dealt with later. For now, all the plan had to do was exist so they could refine it and iron out all the details. More likely than not, it would work. Kelli wasn¡¯t particularly bright, but after all the violence she was bound to be afraid. Terrified, even. Maybe that could be used against her too. Razia found herself grinning at the idea. Isa saw her and smiled as well. If nothing else, hate of Kelli and affection for Quentin united them, even if Isa could be insufferable.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± said Quentin, visibly relaxing. ¡°All of it. You two make a good team. We all do. What do you think I should do in the meantime? Other than fight anyone who tries to hurt us. And make sure the Shades are all okay. Gods, the memorial is tomorrow. I¡¯m terrified they¡¯ll all leave and we¡¯ll be doomed. I haven¡¯t gotten a chance to talk with most of them, and some seemed shaken.¡±


    ¡°So don¡¯t let them,¡± Isa said, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°You¡¯re in charge and they follow you. Even more so after you decided to get your ass up from your extended nap. That nonsense about being the Darkstar¡¯s favored child convinced a lot of them, I think. You want to do something now? Make the rounds and make it clear that you¡¯re confident we¡¯re safe and we¡¯ll win this. No one can do it better than you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not nonsense,¡± Quentin shook his head. ¡°But you¡¯re right. I¡¯ll make the rounds and see how everyone was doing instead of napping or getting drunk and feeling like shit. Thank you. Both of you.¡±


    Razia smiled, but Isa waved him off, looking away and distinctly uncomfortable. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just strategy and survival. If you fuck off again we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good start,¡± said Razia, tugging on Quentin¡¯s hand to pull him to his feet. ¡°And you¡¯ll feel better for it too, I promise.¡±


    Maybe Razia couldn¡¯t directly fight, and maybe it was Isa who Quentin needed right now to pierce his introspection and tendency to get lost in his head and mope. But if there was anything Razia could do, connecting people and knowing the right tool for the job were right at the top. Maybe it would be better this way, working behind the scenes and causing less trouble. At least until things died down and got boring again.


    A knock at the door shook them all from their thoughts. Lucy popped her head in a second later. ¡°Someone here to see you, Mr. Q,¡± she said. Her eyes flickered between the three of them standing there, Quentin in his underwear. A bit of color went to her cheeks and Razia had to bite back laughter. She winked at Lucy, throwing an arm around Quentin¡¯s waist and Isa¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°Thanks Lucy,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to, uh, get dressed first.¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± She closed the door.


    ¡°She¡¯s got a crush on you, you know,¡± Razia teased.


    Quentin grunted and pulled away from her. He got dressed right in front of the two of them, pulling on a tunic. Razia caught Isa looking at his muscular back and elbowed her in the side. She pointed at Quentin¡¯s ass and made a pinching motion. Isa glared at her and pulled away, storming out of the room. Razia did burst out laughing, then.


    ¡°What?¡± Quentin asked, tying his belt on.


    Razia shook her head. Together they went out to the atrium. The Supreme Arbiter waited for them patiently, inclining his head when he saw them. He looked about as tired and worn down as Quentin. If they had problems, Omar must¡¯ve been carrying half the city on his shoulders.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± he said. ¡°Have you been safe?¡±


    ¡°Safe enough,¡± said Razia. ¡°Quentin¡¯s been handling it.¡±


    ¡°How bad has it been?¡± Quentin asked.


    Omar¡¯s expression dropped. ¡°The Emperor is considering issuing a curfew and bringing in the military to help keep order. So far I¡¯ve been able to convince him otherwise, but it¡¯s a near thing. The outright war needs to end soon or all of Orchrisus will be squeezed in his grasp until it submits. And I think we all know Orchrisus is not the kind of city to submit to a tyrant if it means their lives are inconvenienced in any way.¡±


    Quentin couldn¡¯t help but smile at that, and Razia did as well. Back home in the Dell Archipelago it wasn¡¯t much different. People ran in crews and families, with no real central leadership so much as a loose array of aligned and fighting houses who controlled the seas. A war would only make the people more insistent on keeping things as normal as possible. Smart? No. But sometimes being smart wasn¡¯t the best choice.


    ¡°I bring you news,¡± said Omar. ¡°The Skulls and the Steelsong have been wiped out entirely. They were Cicero loyalists, which is some bad news. Half of Cicero¡¯s advisors and spies are at each other¡¯s throats trying to grab as much of his influence and territory as they can. Some might try to pay you a visit.¡±


    ¡°They already have,¡± said Razia. ¡°Quentin sent them home with a bloody nose.¡±


    Omar nodded. ¡°It¡¯s only going to get worse. You might consider making a show of force or reaching out to some of the other smaller gangs for mutual aid. But it¡¯s not all bad news. Thanks to the murder of Geoffrey Brixton, head of the Gold Scarab Bank, his replacements are eager for revenge. They were willing to do us a favor. I¡¯ve managed to siphon away some of Cicero¡¯s shards and transfer them to you. Four thousand aquilos, or about a quarter of his account. That account, at least.¡±


    Razia¡¯s legs wobbled. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Beside her, Quentin was nearly as shocked. He still hadn¡¯t told her how much he had, but she could guess it was less than four thousand. ¡°Why are you helping us like this? This is Orchrisus, and you have so many reasons to be pissed at us.¡±


    ¡°Not both of you,¡± he said, eyeing her pointedly. ¡°The way I see it, our best chance for peace and stability is empowering those who don¡¯t want to exploit others. You two are far from perfect but I know Quentin¡¯s character and I know he will not make a mess of the city if he has control of part of it. I¡¯ve given money to others who I believe will do the same.


    ¡°More than anything I care about stability and harm reduction. I fully expect you to gain control of this area and some of the scattered gangs and do something about it. Am I wrong in expecting that?¡±


    Quentin¡¯s face darkened. This was exactly what he didn¡¯t want, but even he could see it as the necessity it was. Isa¡¯s words echoed in Razia¡¯s head, and she¡¯d put money on Quentin remembering it too. He grunted and shook his head.


    ¡°No. It might take me some time, but I want peace and prosperity for us all. I want things to be boring again and I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to make it that way.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then my faith is not misplaced. This and the Watch are all the help I can give you. The rest? You¡¯re on your own. I suggest you get moving and don¡¯t let others act before you do. Do you understand?¡±


    After Omar left, Razia turned to Quentin, a cheeky grin on her face.


    ¡°What?¡± Quentin asked, side-eyeing her.


    ¡°The Immortal Mr. Q, King of the Northside,¡± she said with a twinkle in her eye. ¡°Has a ring to it.¡±


    He made a face but didn¡¯t disagree. That had to count for something. So much of it was on him, but Razia wouldn¡¯t let him carry that burden alone. If she could do anything, she could make it easier on him and manage the girls while he worried about keeping them safe. Her and Isa, Razia reminded herself. Two had become three and they were better for it. But they could bring Isa in fully later. For now¡­


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go back to resting for a bit, while it¡¯s safe? Together.¡± She grinned, and he smiled back. Yes, she couldn¡¯t fight, but she could keep people happy and content. It would have to be enough.

 Chapter 106: A Moment of Silence and Rage

    This memorial wasn¡¯t half as happy as Demetrius¡¯. At almost 60, no one expected the battered head trainer to really have that much of a life left. Ten years, maybe. It was different for those who died in the bloodiest battle of the Orchrisan street war to date. Most of them had been young, lives cut short in a fight that wasn¡¯t really theirs. That more than anything else filled Quentin with true remorse and regret for his choices. He could live with killing Warlords, but Shades dying because of him¡­


    ¡°Hey,¡± Jonas whispered to him. ¡°You should probably say something.¡±


    They stood off to the side together. Once again they rented out a large tavern, completely on Quentin¡¯s shards. They needed it for the thirteen urns and pictures. Most of the young gladiators hadn¡¯t sat for a portrait and were done mostly by memory by Kit, who showed a surprising amount of artistic skill for a fighter. The loss brought them all together, and now they held a collective breath, as if waiting to let it out so they could move on.


    ¡°What could I even say?¡± Quentin asked quietly, looking around. A bunch of hardened fighters, killers and thugs and friendly maniacs, all stone faced and fighting back tears. Everyone in there knew everyone who died, and the collective grief blanketed the inn, suffocating them all. ¡°This is my fault. All of it. If I go up to speak, people are going to throw shit at me and I¡¯ll deserve it.¡±


    Jonas winced. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be that bad. They need something. You can¡¯t just say nothing and go on from here.¡±


    He knew Jonas had a point, but that didn¡¯t make the prospect any more appealing. Leadership was hard enough on a good day, let alone when he failed at it. But Jonas had a point. Quentin needed to say something. Going up and making a speech sounded like the hardest thing in the world. Necessary, but¡­not yet. ¡°Excuse me.¡±


    As Quentin passed, people looked up to him with inscrutable expressions. How many of them cursed the day they decided to join up and fight some southern kids? It had to be at least half of them by now. He continued on to the bar itself and ordered himself a drink, sliding a couple of qala pieces across the bar. He threw back the alcohol, embracing the burn.


    ¡°All right, Quintius?¡± Pete asked from beside him. The short gladiator leaned backwards against the bar nursing a beer. His pockmarked face looked about how Quentin felt.


    Quentin froze. He hadn¡¯t seen who was there, and now he wanted to run away. Bruce had been one of Pete¡¯s best friends, and the one who convinced him to join in. If anyone hated him, it had to be Pete. ¡°Not really,¡± he said, motioning for another drink. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone is.¡±


    ¡°Truth,¡± Pete sighed, taking a drink of his own. ¡°This was ugly. Not sure any of us is really afraid of dying. I mean, in the arena shit happens, right? But this¡­They brought an entire army with ¡®em. They hit home.¡±


    He didn¡¯t know what to say to that, so he just nodded and downed his next drink. He stopped there. No need to get completely blind drunk to run away from his responsibilities. ¡°Stupid question, but are you okay?¡±


    Pete grunted, looking down at his feet. ¡°I guess. I¡¯ll survive, at least. Or maybe I won¡¯t, but it¡¯s not like all of us can live forever, eh?¡±


    Quentin flinched. ¡°It changes the way you look at things,¡± he said. ¡°Since dying I can¡¯t really worry much about myself, but everyone else¡­¡±


    ¡°Did you know that me and Bruce¡¯ve been friends since we were like eight?¡± said Pete, making it so much worse. ¡°Best friends. Me and him, we¡¯d fight with sticks and pretend to be gladiators until he ended up making it. I didn¡¯t, but he did. And when he got home at night, he¡¯d train with me and teach me what he learned until I eventually made it in too. Felt like we could take on anyone.¡±


    He looked back up at Quentin. ¡°Guess no amount of training can prepare you for a giant who can crush you to death with one hand. What¡¯re we going to do about it?¡±


    ¡°You...you don¡¯t want to call it quits?¡±


    Pete¡¯s face twisted into shock and disgust. ¡°Of course not. We¡¯re going to kill that son of a bitch. You thinking of ducking out, Quintius?¡±


    Quentin shook his head vehemently. ¡°No. I intend on killing him and anyone else he has with him. Even if he didn¡¯t kill our friends, he went too far. He hurt innocent people just because he could.¡±


    ¡°Shit, there¡¯s that,¡± Pete said, finishing his beer. ¡°Even on our raids, we didn¡¯t touch anyone who wasn¡¯t wearing red. Did you know those bastards smashed the Tran¡¯s noodle shop? If it wasn¡¯t Bruce, I¡¯d kill them for that alone.¡±


    The last thing Quentin expected to do was laugh, but he chuckled before he could suppress it. ¡°I guess when you put it like that, we have to get them back.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely we do,¡± Pete laughed as well. ¡°Bruce¡¯d never forgive them. We used to eat there before every fight, for good luck. Now we¡¯ll never do that again. Look, some of the boys are pissed with what happened, but I don¡¯t know how many wanna stop. We got momentum, we got anger, just¡­Promise me we¡¯ll get them.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get them,¡± Quentin promised. ¡°I have a plan already, it¡¯s just setting it up. Christophe won¡¯t survive the month.¡±


    Pete gestured over at the memorial table. ¡°Then fuckin¡¯ say so.¡±


    Well, how could he refuse that? Quentin smiled crookedly at him and pat Pete¡¯s shoulder once. Maybe it was silly, Pete being able to get through to him where Jonas couldn¡¯t. Sometimes Quentin thought Jonas would just take his side automatically, especially after Demetrius¡¯ death. Pete had every reason to tell him to fuck off forever. Maybe things weren¡¯t as bad as Quentin imagined.


    He went up to the memorial and looked over each piece of art, committing the drawings and the faces behind them to his memory. They died for him and Razia, they died in search of vengeance. Right about then, Quentin didn¡¯t care as much for vengeance as he did stopping them from hurting anyone else. He may have been a bastard leading other violent bastards, but there was a difference.


    Quentin turned around. He stood there silently, looking around the rest of the building and noting who all was there and who they sat with. Jonas watched him from their spot. Jaxon glared at him like he blamed him. That much was fair. A few of them, like David, openly cried as they swapped stories of the fallen. Quentin stood there and drank it all in, waiting patiently for people to look up.


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    It took a while, but eventually they did. The low level of chatter faded away to just a little buzz, and then not even that. Quentin took a deep breath. He had no clue what he was going to say. Maybe that was better, just coming straight from the heart. He started the only way he knew how.


    ¡°Bruno,¡± he said, projecting as much into his soft voice as he could. ¡°Renee. Zachery. Desti. Gillian. Kevin. Alani. Jacon. Isaac. Isaiah. Garold. Salah. And Bruce. One and all, they died on their feet, fighting to defend their homes.¡±


    ¡°Fighting for you!¡± someone in the back called out. A murmur rose up. ¡°They died because of you!¡±


    It hurt to hear, but Quentin couldn¡¯t deny it. ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply. ¡°They died because of me. And whether or not you want to move forward and follow me, we¡¯re all in danger now.¡±


    ¡°Is that a fucking threat?¡± Another voice called out.


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s not, he¡¯s just got eyes,¡± someone answered. All at once, voices rose up, louder and louder, clashing against each other until it drove Quentin up the wall.


    He clapped his hands together once, the sound of it silencing the room. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for blaming me. It is my fault. And I don¡¯t blame you for being angry. You should be angry. At me, and at the Warlords for doing this. We had to know that at some point they¡¯d strike back. They brought a small army with them and we still managed to fight them off. And as much as these losses hurt, I¡¯m proud of you all.


    ¡°Not for fighting for me. For defending the north side. They came and they started hurting innocent people. People we know and live with, friends, family, pillars of our community. They came and they broke and burnt everything they could to try to punish us for coming after them. For trying to get justice for Demetrius.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t trying to avenge Demetrius!¡± That first contrary voice called out. ¡°You¡¯re just protecting your bitch!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just not true!¡± Jonas shouted, pushing away from the wall. He stalked down to stand at Quentin¡¯s side, looking around with open contempt. ¡°Some of you were there when Christophe killed Quentin. He fought to avenge Demetrius then, he does it now. I spend half my time with him these days, and I can tell you he¡¯s never once done to make things better for him!¡±


    A man stepped forward from the back, short hair slicked back. He looked native Orchrisan, olive skinned and sharp nosed. Vito, Quentin remembered. ¡°Of course you¡¯d say that. You¡¯ve been mooning over him this entire time.¡±


    Jonas flushed but bared his teeth. Quentin put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Ignore it,¡± he whispered. Louder he said, ¡°I¡¯ve never been shy about how this started, or my part in it. If you want out, I¡¯m not going to stop you. Anyone who wants out gets a little something for your patience and your troubles. And the families of those who have died fighting will also get something.¡±


    ¡°Blood money,¡± Vito sneered.


    Surprisingly, that just made Pete snicker loudly. ¡°Of course it¡¯s blood money you idiot. We¡¯re gladiators. Every shard we get is blood money.¡± That earned a few more laughs, and the room buzzed with still more life.


    Quentin cleared his throat and drew himself up to his full height, neutral scowl on his face. ¡°I¡¯m not going to act like I¡¯m not new at this. At all of this. I¡¯m just trying to do right by everyone. No one¡¯s stuck here, but for those of you who want to stay and fight, I¡¯m not asking you to do it for me. I¡¯m asking you to do it for North Orchrisus. As many of you no doubt have heard, Mr. Cicero is dead. I watched it happen, and now the north is up for grabs for a lot of ambitious, shitty men who want power.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like you don¡¯t want power?¡± Vito crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at him. Privately, Quentin was grateful for the opposition. He didn¡¯t think he could do this if someone hadn¡¯t been giving him someone to fight against and play off of.


    ¡°I do,¡± he said. ¡°I want to be strong enough to protect my loved ones. I want the power to make things better and keep our streets safe. I was never attacking just to hurt someone else. We attacked the Warlords because we wanted to thin their numbers and make it clear they didn¡¯t get to come up north and hurt people anytime they wanted.


    ¡°We spent two weeks raiding down south and taking everything we could to weaken a group of shitty people so we could go in for the kill. And now, even if you don¡¯t want to go south or fight the Warlords, the street war is everywhere. Cicero¡¯s gangs are now divided and going after each other for every scrap of territory and power they can get.¡±


    Another murmur through the crowd. Quentin couldn¡¯t tell what their general reaction was. Some were pissed at him, and fair enough. Others seemed content to let him say his piece before they made any decisions. Not all of them were complete hotheads, at least. The veterans and tired fighters who joined up for a last bit of glory and fun at least watched him like a hawk.


    ¡°So is that what you plan on doing?¡± a round bellied, barrel chested man named Rob asked, hands resting interlocked on that belly. ¡°You want us to take a bunch of territory, beat our chests and do the same shit the gangs do? Is that what we¡¯re gonna be now?¡±


    Here came the hard part. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you all want to do,¡± said Quentin, looking around again. ¡°But that¡¯s what I intend on doing. I want the Boulevard and the neighborhoods surrounding the Garden. Not for power¡¯s sake, but to protect my girls and make sure they¡¯ve got everything they need to thrive. I want to make it clear to everyone, north or south, that you do not get to do what you want to my people without losing your fucking head.


    ¡°If this city¡¯s going to be divided among a bunch of bloodthirsty, greedy sons of bitches, then I¡¯m going to take a slice of the pie for sanity and honor. I have no intention of getting dragged into more gang wars if I don¡¯t have to. I want to establish a neutral territory, where Orchrisans don¡¯t have to worry about being bled by a bunch of wannabe bosses. So here¡¯s what my plans are. Join me or leave, I will respect your decision either way.


    ¡°I want every inn and tavern and insula within a mile of here to be under my protection, with every working girl and gladiator who wants a place at the table to have everything they need. I want to make it clear to the other gangs that we¡¯re not out to take from them, but if they push us they¡¯ll pay for it. And most importantly,¡± Quentin turned his piercing stare to Vito, ¡°I¡¯m going to kill Christophe, once and for all. We¡¯ve got plans in motion, just waiting for them to line up. He will not survive this. I swear this on Demetrius¡¯ memory.¡±


    Silence.


    Quentin didn¡¯t know what he expected. Boos, maybe, or cheers if things went really well. All he got was silence, followed by another rising buzz of people muttering under their breaths, discussing things with their friends. It would have to do for now. With one last, hopefully authoritative nod, Quentin turned back to the urns with his friends¡¯ ashes. Their families had already come and paid their respects, and now it was just them. Their brothers in arms.


    ¡°I¡¯m on your side,¡± Jonas whispered to him, walking with Quentin to a table in the back, away from the bulk of the crowd. ¡°For Demetrius, and for home. They don¡¯t get these streets.¡± He offered Quentin his hand.


    Quentin grasped him by the forearm. Together they squeezed, and Quentin let out an exhausted sigh. ¡°Thank you, Jonas. You¡¯ve been as good a friend as Demetrius ever has. I¡¯m afraid I haven¡¯t been as good a friend.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think of it that way,¡± said Jonas, sitting down next to him. He looked over at the crowded tavern. Plenty of people looked their way but kept their distance for the time being. ¡°I¡¯ve learned so much around you. Losing¡­Losing everyone was rough, but I think it proves just how much we scared them.¡± Jonas rubbed his throat thoughtfully. There were still bruises there where Christophe¡¯s massive hand closed around it and tried to crush the life from him.


    ¡°Scaring them isn¡¯t good enough if it means they¡¯re willing to try to burn half the city down to get to us,¡± Quentin grumbled, but he didn¡¯t entirely discount the point. Ever since that day, the city remained on high alert and there was little chance of sneaking an army across the bridge again. Their greatest risk was from fractured gangs, sniffing out weaknesses to exploit.


    Then the first of the gladiators showed up at their table.


    ¡°I¡¯ll still fight,¡± said Neil, bowing his head. ¡°For Demetrius, and for home.¡± Quentin nodded back, and then he retreated, his place taken by the next person in line.


    ¡°I¡¯m out,¡± said Severin, a frown on his face. ¡°I just got married. My wife is already pissed at me. You said something about¡­?¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°Tomorrow, come to the Garden. I appreciate you helping along this far, Severin. You¡¯re brave, tough, and honorable.¡±


    Severin half smiled, and then came the next. And the next. By unspoken agreement, the gladiators lined up to give their answers. To Quentin¡¯s surprise, most of them stayed. Out of the roughly fifty Shades still alive, forty of them stuck around. Enough to still be a formidable force, and one he¡¯d have to spread out and use well.


    It took about an hour or so for them all to make their declarations and either embrace their new lives as a gladiator and a gangster, or walk away before they got in too deep. By the time they were done, the tavern had mostly emptied. Quentin, Jonas, the people who worked there, and a few stragglers remained, paying their respects to the urns.


    ¡°So what now?¡± Jonas asked when it was the two of them once more.


    Quentin thought about it. First he¡¯d need to talk with Razia and Isa and get their thoughts. Razia was always ambitious and had plenty of ideas, but things were sharper now that Isa stood beside them. He¡¯d never understand her, but he didn¡¯t have to in order to appreciate her. Little by little, the start of an overall plan formed.


    ¡°First thing we do is make sure we¡¯re stable and people are well rested and ready for more trouble,¡± he said. ¡°We have to reach out to the other gangs and see how many will cause trouble for us. We¡¯ll make friends where we can and hurt those where we can¡¯t to make sure they know we¡¯re not weak. We spread out and take this street and manage all the working girls, protect the normal merchants. After that?¡±


    Quentin smiled, the plan fresh in his mind courtesy of his girls. ¡°We¡¯re going to butcher Christophe.¡±

 Chapter 107: Friend or Foe

    After the better part of three weeks stuck at the Garden, Razia refused to stay behind this time. It could be dangerous, but that was half the fun. Besides, they needed a united front and to make it clear they were a duo and not just that whore and her puppet, or the moonkissed and his pet. Their reputation remained their greatest weapon and defense, and they used it as they sought out the other north side gangs to hash things out.


    Hash things out, or make it clear that fucking with them meant death.


    They were accompanied by Jonas, Pete, and Jinnis, all armed with knives and chitin armor. Walking the streets with their men behind them, most people gave Quentin and Razia their space. Things were different now. The Boulevard had been one of the safest places in the city, constantly patrolled and kept prosperous. Christophe¡¯s attack changed that.


    No one walked around alone, even during the day. Pairs and trios moved from business to business, not making eye contact with anyone save the few merchants they visited. The merchants themselves were still in the process of rebuilding, and more than a few of them had new hired guards. A single person watching over their stalls or little shops wouldn¡¯t do much against a gang, but Razia knew how much they needed to believe they would be safe.


    Gang wars came and went, but Orchrisus had enjoyed a fairly long period of prosperity and relative peace. People fought, crimes were committed, and here and there a dead body would be found, but it was the price of doing business in such a huge, rich city. The street war reminded the people anyone could be a victim, even if they had nothing of value or were themselves invisible. Shit happened.


    The five of them headed east down the Boulevard, for the third stop of the day. The first two had gone by passingly well. The first gang, the Bones Club, were about as dumb as their name. They laughed in their faces and the leader threatened the Garden unless they gave tribute to him every week. Quentin broke both of his arms before reminding the rest of his gang that he could¡¯ve killed him. All in all, Razia considered that a win.


    The second meeting was with Shapiro¡¯s crew. Rather than having a dumb name, they just followed their leader, a dark featured man with striking eyes and a pleasantly low voice. That meeting had gone even better. Neither Shapiro nor his crew gave a damn about the Moonlit Garden or coming after Quentin and Razia. They, like many others, were waiting to see how the chips fell before they cast their lot. They promised nothing other than temporary neutrality and disinterest. Good enough, honestly.


    The third group was one that made Razia nervous. Mouse was a pleasant enough guy for a violent thug, but his gang were infamous for their relative power compared to their small size. Down south, the best gangs had the most people willing to fight. Up here, Mouse¡¯s people were more normal fare. Highly skilled, smaller groups of people who didn¡¯t fight over territory so much as fought over the best jobs and happened to hold territory.


    Specifically, one of the biggest insula on the upper east side, right smack dab in the middle of a major crossroads going all four directions, and one of the three roads leading north up out of town and into the great desert, where the caravans went on east to Avarast and Bellamoore. A lot of traffic in that area, more than enough to be considered a key point.


    ¡°He seemed okay when I met him,¡± said Quentin as they stood outside the insula. It stood at four stories of tightly packed small homes, and the majority of the gang lived there alongside their extended families. It didn¡¯t look like anything special, but it was clean and there were only a few dicks drawn on the walls.


    ¡°That was when he was at a party in our honor, welcoming us,¡± Razia reminded him. ¡°And before Cicero was assassinated. We¡¯ve got no idea how he¡¯s going to react to us now. For all we know it could be like the Bone Club.¡±


    Behind her, Jinnis snickered. ¡°Booooone cluuuuub,¡± he said, drawing the words out dramatically. ¡°If this Mouse is anything like them, we¡¯ll have some fun and be on our way.¡±


    Quentin looked over his shoulder, half smiling. ¡°Mouse is a big fucker,¡± he said. ¡°Not Christophe big but strong and seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. Just don¡¯t make fun of him and we should be fine, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said Razia.


    As they approached the insula, a young boy looked them over and ran inside. Razia motioned for them to stop and wait outside. They stood there for a few minutes, the later spring son beating down on them. Eventually Mouse and a few of his men came out, dressed for a fight.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you two,¡± said Mouse, sounding less surprised than resigned. ¡°You here to try to make demands or make friends?¡±


    ¡°The latter, preferably,¡± said Razia. ¡°Mind if we come in out of the sun?¡±


    Mouse grunted and pointed to his left. ¡°Across the street. Drinks on me. Assuming you¡¯re operating in good faith.¡±


    ¡°We are,¡± said Quentin, inclining his head and pushing his shades back up his nose. ¡°We don¡¯t want a fight unless it¡¯s necessary.¡±


    That earned them another grunt. The five of them followed Mouse into a dim, small pub. Not many people were in there, and the ones that were clearly belonged to him. Mouse approached a table and the occupants cleared off, taking drinks and in one case a full plate of food with them to another table. He sat with his back to the wall, motioning to the bartender for three drinks.


    Quentin nodded to his men and they sat at the bar. Jinnis kept his eye on the door, Pete his eye on the other patrons, and Jonas kept watch over them. Overall, Razia wasn¡¯t worried and she sat down next to the wall, with her lover between her and any potential attackers. A second later a waitress came by with three bottles of mead.


    Mouse grabbed his and took a drink. ¡°Well, you got me here. Speak your piece.¡±


    Razia took the lead. ¡°Things are pretty shit right now and dangerous,¡± she said, deciding not to fluff him up at all. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be. The way we see it, the Boulevard is one of the most important streets in Orchrisus, and it should be a neutral territory. We¡¯re going around and trying to keep it clear of fighting to keep the heat off of all of us.¡±


    ¡°The heat that you two brought here, you mean,¡± said Mouse with a harsh bark of laughter. ¡°Great job.¡±


    Quentin sighed. ¡°What would you do if someone picked a fight and killed you? I don¡¯t regret attacking them, only not doing more damage before they managed to come back for a real fight.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re really sticking to that story ¡®bout being immortal huh?¡± Mouse snorted. ¡°Give me a fucking break.¡±


    ¡°You well fed?¡± Razia asked Quentin.


    ¡°Well enough. Could stand a bite to eat. We doing this?¡± Razia nodded. Quentin held out his arm and motioned for Jonas to help out. The teen drew his sword, making the rest of the patrons stand up and draw their own weapons.


    Mouse gestured for them to calm down. He nodded at Quentin, curious. Jonas brought the sword over to Quentin¡¯s arm and sliced it open. Quentin hissed in pain but held the wound up. Before their eyes it sealed itself. Blood still streamed down his skin, but he didn¡¯t wipe it up.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Huh,¡± Mouse nodded. ¡°That¡¯s pretty fuckin¡¯ weird.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m god-touched,¡± said Quentin, shrugging. ¡°Weird doesn¡¯t begin to cover it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to make threats or try to beg or anything like that,¡± Razia pressed forward. ¡°We want to work together for safety and mutual prosperity. At bare minimum we want to make sure there¡¯s no bad blood between us. You don¡¯t mess with us, we won¡¯t mess with you.¡±


    Honestly, they needed friends and allies, but so far that goal was looking harder and harder to achieve. If they could just keep the Boulevard clear of open violence, victory enough. Just enough to buy them time for the plan to go off. When Christophe lay dead and rotting, their situation would be much better.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see myself having reason to care about any of you so long as you don¡¯t test me,¡± said Mouse, taking another long drink. ¡°With Cicero dead our hands are full enough. You¡¯re probably in a much worse situation than me¡¯n my boys. What kind of area are you looking to hold? You¡¯re not even on the Boulevard proper, are you?¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re just south of it, but most of our clients come from there. We¡¯re considering the area between Fifth and Tenth avenue to be ours.¡±


    Mouse whistled. ¡°Taking a prime piece for yourself? You¡¯re not here looking for friends. You¡¯re looking for recognition.¡±


    Razia smiled. Mouse was smarter than he looked. She wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet.


    ¡°More or less. As far as I¡¯m concerned there¡¯s really only one prior claim to that area, and last I checked they¡¯re no threat. If they try anything we¡¯ll make a move, but we¡¯re honestly not out for a fight. Not unless we have to. We¡¯re in the comfort business, Mouse. We honestly just want to get back to getting blasted and having orgies. What do you think?¡±


    Another noncommittal grunt. Mouse leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. ¡°The thing is, some people are pissed at you and blaming all this trouble on you. I can see where they¡¯re comin¡¯ from, too. If it wasn¡¯t for this shit with the Warlords, Cicero wouldn¡¯t have slipped up and got himself dead. Even somethin¡¯ as minor as just nodding your way and accepting your claim could get us hate. What¡¯s in it for us?¡±


    ¡°Mutual defense, for one,¡± said Quentin, mirroring his pose. ¡°You¡¯re one of the better crews out there. If someone tries to fuck with you, you probably won¡¯t need help. But if several someones messes with you, could be nice to have a friendly face. You¡¯ve heard about what me and my boys are capable of. Thirty of us fended off nearly seventy Warlords.¡±


    Mouse stroked his bushy beard, thinking about it. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely opposed. Throw in a discount for my boys frequenting your establishment and I think it¡¯s agreeable enough to try out. On a trial basis.¡±


    ¡°Provided they follow our rules, easily done,¡± said Razia.


    Mouse opened his mouth to say something else when he froze. Razia looked over her shoulder to see the messenger boy from before standing in the doorway, scared as can be. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, standing up. He went out the door and without hesitation Quentin, Razia followed with their men in tow.


    It wasn¡¯t a full incursion, but only barely. Twenty armed men and women stood in the now empty streets. Razia recognized the leader as Brody Ashford, one of the loan sharks under Cicero. Razia wasted no time in stepping in front of Mouse and addressing him directly.


    ¡°Well well well, what have we here? You thinking you¡¯re going to fill Cicero¡¯s shoes, Brody?¡±


    The lean man sneered. ¡°Someone has to. Might as well be me. I already ran a quarter of the old bastard¡¯s kingdom anyway. It falls on me to pick up the pieces and get everything back into one piece. Cicero was a weak, sentimental fool. I have no such weaknesses.¡±


    ¡°No, you just like fucking your sister, right?¡± Razia¡¯s stomach did a flip. All around her, Jonas and the others laughed. Cicero¡¯s blackmail went far and wide, and very few people escaped unscathed. Even Mouse chuckled. Which of course just made Brody zero in on her.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a big fucking mouth, whore,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s truly going to be a pleasure trading you in to Piro.¡±


    Quentin stepped in front of Razia, but not before shooting Razia an annoyed look. She blew him a kiss before he turned around. ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen. I¡¯m going to give you this one chance to leave or I will kill you.¡±


    Mouse stepped up as well next to Quentin. Together they made for an intimidating sight. ¡°Why don¡¯t you turn around, Brody? Go get your slice and maybe try bothering a few smaller, weaker people before you step up here. You¡¯re not going to get much done today.¡± All around his men came out from the pub and made up the difference.


    Brody smiled. He raised a hand and chopped it in their direction. ¡°Get them!¡±


    Razia stepped back into the entryway of the pub, leaning against the open frame of the door. Big battles like this weren¡¯t her strong suit, but damn if they weren¡¯t entertaining to watch. Brody¡¯s men crashed into Mouse¡¯s and the fighting began in earnest.


    She didn¡¯t have words to describe the joy she felt seeing Quentin fight. Even before she knew who he was, she saw the Butcher fight like he was born for it. Now that they were in a fairly easy, harmless fight, Razia really let herself take it in.


    Without his shield, he focused way more on parrying and weaving. He and Jonas fought much alike, favoring speed and reaction, seizing the right opportunity when it came along. Their attackers fell quickly, almost at the same time. Neither of them hesitated, shoving the dying men down to the ground and maneuvering to meet the next wave.


    Mouse on the other hand, he and his men were strong, brutal, and merciless. His men collapsed on the attackers from behind and it turned into a chaotic brawl of swinging clubs and cries of pain. The thuds of bodies falling to the ground and sounds of steel clashing against steel was a chaos completely outside Razia¡¯s expertise. All of this from Cicero making himself a lynchpin. Razia knew true envy for the first time.


    It wasn¡¯t that she liked the violence and chaos itself, per se. Much like Quentin, she wanted things to die back down to mostly calm and just a little bit hectic, but in chaos there was a hard, scary beauty. Opportunity. Brody had been their next person to talk to, and now they could scratch it -- and likely him -- out entirely.


    The fighting shifted and all their attention fixated on the battle. No one but Razia saw Brody himself slip through the fighting and come right for her, knife out and a dark smile on his face. Razia¡¯s eyes widened and she called out, ¡°Quentin!¡± sharply, but then Brody came down on her.


    He swung his knife wide, and Razia ducked away, backing up into the bar. In the empty pub, there was nowhere to go and nobody to help her. Brody fell on her, tackling her into the ground. She struggled against him, but it would¡¯ve been useless even if he didn¡¯t press the edge of his knife against her throat. Razia stiffened, and Brody pulled them back to their feet.


    ¡°What, no dumb jokes now?¡± He demanded, pressing the tip of the blade against her throat hard enough to make her wince. ¡°No smart mouth begging me to just kill you and forget about the bounty?¡±


    ¡°How much does your sister charge?¡± Her mouth moved without any input from her brain. ¡°My bounty could probably keep you balls deep in her for months.¡±


    ¡°Shut up! It was one time!¡± he shrieked.


    ¡°Let her go.¡±


    Brody turned them around. Quentin stood in the doorway, looming large over them. He pointed his sword right at him. ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask again. Let her go and you can walk away.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you, you moonkissed --¡±


    Razia saw her chance. She pulled to the side, elbowing Brody in the gut. It couldn¡¯t have hurt, she was far too weak for that, but it distracted him. Not enough to keep him from drawing his knife over the side of her neck, cutting her open. Razia fell to the floor with a gasp, clutching the hot wound as panic gripped her.


    From above she heard an inhuman growl and the next thing she knew Quentin tackled Brody into the bar. Razia pulled her hand away, slick with blood. Her breathing spiked as she wondered if this was it, if her mouth finally got her killed. From the ground Quentin screamed and pummeled the loan shark, sword entirely forgotten. After a few seconds he got up and grabbed her by the side of the neck, frantically checking her wound. Sometime in the battle his spectacles fell off.


    ¡°Are you okay? ARE YOU OKAY?¡± He demanded, tilting her head the other way. Razia wanted to scream that she didn¡¯t know, but no words came out. A second later he let out a relieved gasp. ¡°Just¡­just a small cut. What the hell were you thinking?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking of giving you an opportunity!¡± she exclaimed. Fuck, this cut hurt but if he wasn¡¯t scared, she wouldn¡¯t be. ¡°It worked, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    A few feet away, Brody groaned on the ground. Quentin raised up, fury in his eyes. He grabbed Brody by the ankle and dragged him outside, his face scraping against the ground the entire time. Razia followed. At this point the fight was over, quick and dirty. Brody¡¯s men weren¡¯t all dead, but the ones still alive were on their knees with their hands on their heads.


    ¡°All right?¡± Mouse asked as Quentin dragged Brody in front of his men.


    ¡°Almost,¡± said Quentin. He had a look on his face Razia had never seen before. It almost scared her. ¡°You see this piece of shit?¡± He called out to the assembled gangs. ¡°He cut my woman. This is what happens to anyone who looks at her wrong.¡±


    Razia had just enough time to look away before Quentin stomped the poor bastard¡¯s head into the ground. She screwed her eyes shut as if that could block out the sounds of the next few stomps, and the wet squelching sound. The next thing she knew she heard someone vomit. The most surprising part of all was that it wasn¡¯t her.


    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± Jinnis whispered, from a few feet away. She couldn¡¯t blame him.


    Mouse on the other hand sounded impressed. ¡°Shit, Quintius, point made. You want to take care of these maggots, or should I?¡± Razia opened her eyes in time to see him gesture at the prisoners. Most of them looked absolutely sickened. One cried openly, shivering violently as he stared at Quentin.


    Quentin wore a fierce, horrible smile. ¡°Dead men tell no tales,¡± he said. ¡°So let them live. You get a reprieve today, on one condition. Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah!¡± the nearest kneeling man said. ¡°Anything!¡±


    ¡°Go around and tell people exactly what happens if you touch Razia. What happens if you cross the immortal moonkissed bastard. You hear me? They¡¯ll be scraping you off the fucking ground. Now get up and get out of my sight.¡±


    They didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Seeing no one would stop them, first one man took off, and then the rest, fleeing down the Boulevard.


    Grimacing, Quentin looked down at his feet. ¡°I¡¯m going to need water and some cloth to wash off, please.¡±


    Just an hour later Mouse and his boys crowded the pub. Razia¡¯s minor cut was patched up. This time it was on her to sit still and try not to fuss too much over Quentin giving her a few stitches. It had been the closest she¡¯d come to death since that night on the bridge. Maybe it was time to pick a safer hobby. Razia found herself mostly quiet after that, but that was fine. For once, Quentin did the talking around their new allies.

 Chapter 108: Auction Night

    ¡°Just let me know if you need to leave for any reason,¡± said Isa to Samantha as she helped her walk to the Garden.


    After the better part of three weeks, it was clear Samantha would survive, but no one knew how much she¡¯d recover. She still couldn¡¯t speak, and walking remained difficult. Her hands shook, she could only eat soups and stews comfortably, and more than anything, she missed home.


    But she was alive.


    Samantha nodded, leaning hard into her. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth, but only a little rush of air came out. Isa imagined it to be ¡®thank you¡¯ or something like that. Not for the first time, Isa¡¯s heart burned with a controlled, pained rage. Kelli wouldn¡¯t survive this if Isa had anything to say about it. No matter what happened, Isa swore she¡¯d end her for her crimes.


    People filled the Garden, at least one patron for every girl and guy they had. All of them vetted extensively and promised a night of delight and depravity in exchange for their help. The entire special event had been Razia¡¯s idea, and Isa made sure it would go off without a hitch, or else heads were going to roll. The party was already underway, complete with a small band playing music off to the side.


    Eyes turned to them as Isa pushed their way through, all of them on Samantha. The redhead trembled a little. Isa squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before helping Samantha down into Quentin¡¯s oversized chair. She sank into the cushions, looking comically small. More than anything, she seemed comfortable, and that meant more to Isa than anything else.


    ¡°Do you need a drink?¡± she asked. ¡°Lucy, get Samantha some water!¡±


    Lucy, who had been passing by, jumped to it, running into the kitchen and coming back with a water skin. Isa took it from her and handed it to a grateful Samantha. Nodding to her, Isa scanned the room and made sure she knew every single face at least passingly. If not her, then someone had to know them for them to be welcome. The past two days were the first in over a week where no one showed up to try to pick a fight. Things had to be safe for the auction.


    It took a couple of minutes, but soon Isa was satisfied there were no uninvited guests out to finish them off. Maybe tonight would even go off without a hitch, but she didn¡¯t dare let herself dream of no complications or hiccups, no matter how safe it seemed. Not long after, the first well wisher came along.


    ¡°Hey Sam,¡± said Marian Mahoney, an up and coming merchant based out of Carolas. Isa didn¡¯t know too much about him, other than being one of Samantha¡¯s regulars. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I was sorry to hear about what happened to you, and I¡¯m glad to contribute in any way I can.¡± He tentatively reached for her.


    Samantha took his hand and pressed it up against her chest. She smiled at him, tears welling in her eyes. Mahoney looked uncomfortable, and despite his pretty words Isa knew he¡¯d probably never go for Samantha again after this.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make a good bid, just for you.¡± He took his hand back, nodded at each of them, and left.


    He was only the first. Isa stood guard while over a dozen men came by to see what became of their favorite and see what their shards would go towards that night. Most of them saw Samantha¡¯s thinner, frailer form and purplish throat and winced. To a one they were gracious and well behaved, and Isa fully planned on taking credit for it. She stood guard and even managed to watch her mouth and keep things moving along. It continued until she was relieved.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ll take over for a bit,¡± said Lynne, coming up. While she and Isa had never been friends, a love of Samantha brought them together for the time being. Isa ducked out of the way and Lynne took her spot, leaning over and planting a kiss on Samantha¡¯s forehead. ¡°Sorry it took me so long. Wanted to look my best for the auction.¡±


    Samantha beamed at her, and for a moment she almost looked like her old, vivacious self again. The way she and Lynne looked at each other¡­was nauseating. Isa turned away, willing her stomach to stop churning at the sight. They were lucky to have each other, but did they have to be so gross about it? She left them behind, looking for something to take out her stress on.


    Quentin and Razia were out in the garden, sitting on a stone bench together. They looked just about as gross as Sam and Lynne, only this one was worse. Quentin got this stupid smile on his face when he looked at Razia. ¡°You two planning on sitting on your asses while the rest of us do all the work?¡± she snarked.


    Razia looked at her with that same knowing, infuriating smile she had whenever she saw Isa these days. ¡°You know, that sounds fantastic. Maybe we will. Why don¡¯t you ask her, Mr. Q?¡± Razia turned around and tugged on Quentin¡¯s toga. Isa sighed as they kissed in front of her. A long, lingering one before Razia got up and sauntered off, leaving the two of them alone.


    ¡°Really?¡± Isa said after the islander was gone, hands on her hips.


    Quentin at least looked a little embarrassed. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. It¡¯s not my fault she¡¯s been teasing you a lot lately. I¡¯m surprised she¡¯s managing to get under your skin. You¡¯re usually¡­Not unflappable, exactly, since you¡¯re always angry about something. But this past while you keep backing down. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Something between me and her and none of your business,¡± Isa said, glad it wasn¡¯t obvious when her face heated up. ¡°What are you supposed to ask me?¡±


    Shrugging, Quentin said, ¡°I was thinking of asking you to host tonight, if you¡¯re willing. I¡¯m exhausted from all the fighting and negotiating and bridge building and I was hoping maybe tonight Razia and I could relax and enjoy ourselves. There¡¯s no one else I¡¯d trust but you.¡±


    Godsdammit, it was easier when she didn¡¯t like or trust him. Every time he said something nice to her after months of being a prickly bitch¡­She shrugged, arms flopping down helplessly. ¡°Fine, whatever, I guess. It¡¯s part of being management, right? You and Razia at the top, and then me. If this is what it takes to pull my weight¡­¡±


    Quentin stood up. ¡°I don¡¯t think of it that way. You pull your weight. I just want a personal favor from you tonight, that¡¯s all. Razia convinced me to try something new, and I¡¯m a bit nervous. If I have to host I¡¯ll be distracted and I¡¯ll probably fuck it up. It¡¯ll be good for more people to see you¡¯re in charge too.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said.


    His face lit up in another dumb smile that was at odds with his hawkish features. He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a pleasant squeeze. Something he must¡¯ve picked up from Razia. It was the first time Isa could remember him doing anything like it. He left her there with her troubled thoughts. She took a few minutes to get her head on straight before going back inside.


    It looked like everyone with an invitation was there, so Isa figured it was up to her to start it. If they trusted her to run it while they sat on their asses for an honestly deserved break, then she¡¯d trust her best judgment. She made a circuit around the room, getting the attention of all the Garden¡¯s employees, letting them know to get ready. Then she went up to the platform, sans wooden cross and clapped her hands together several times to get the room¡¯s attention.


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    ¡°Good evening,¡± she said, trying not to sound like her usual angry, contemptuous self. ¡°Welcome to a special night at the Moonlit Garden. Tonight we honor our most beloved night time flower, Samantha Barker, who was the victim of an attempted murder by our rivals. Luckily for us, Sam pulled through and is so well loved we¡¯ve organized tonight¡¯s auction. All proceeds go towards helping support and feed her family, and are greatly appreciated.


    ¡°Here¡¯s how tonight¡¯s going to work. I¡¯ll introduce one of our companions, and a starting price. It¡¯s on you ladies and gentlemen to try to one up each other for the prize. Whoever you end up with will stay with you until tomorrow at midnight. Just over twenty four hours of having one of the most skilled and enthusiastic lovers in the world to yourself. Do we have any questions?¡±


    One of her regulars, Lee, raised his hand. ¡°You¡¯re available tonight too, right?¡±


    Isa resisted rolling her eyes. ¡°Yes, but given I¡¯m up here hosting, I¡¯ll be last. We have to build up to something tonight, no?¡± She put on her best smug smile, drawing herself up and looking fierce and beautiful. ¡°In no particular order,¡± she lied, ¡°let¡¯s start with¡­Kelli. Kelli come up here and give a wave.¡±


    Kelli grimaced and made her way up to the platform, waving awkwardly. Out of all of them, she was dolled up the least. Isa wanted nothing more than to shove her into the pool and hold her under until the bubbles stopped. That could come later. Still smiling, Isa gestured to Kelli like she was showing off.


    ¡°One of our newer hires, Kelli is down to earth, dedicated, and will do any dirty, nasty thing your depraved minds can come up with.¡± Isa didn¡¯t have to fake the smile. Kelli squirmed as whispers started. ¡°Let¡¯s start the bidding off at 5 qala.¡±


    Around the room, people laughed, while Kelli seethed. Isa looked around, catching Razia¡¯s eye. They shared a moment of mutual joy before Isa laughed as well, ¡°But seriously, the bidding will start at one aquilo.¡±


    An older man raised his hand.


    ¡°There¡¯s one,¡± said Isa, pointing to him. Another man raised his hand. ¡°That¡¯s two.¡± And again two more times until five aquilos stuck. The crowd applauded politely as Kelli stepped down with a fake smile to join the older man who initially bid on her. ¡°Fantastic. She¡¯s yours for a day. Do whatever you like with her, so long as you bring her back in one piece.¡±


    After Kelli came Tenchi. Like the others, he wore just a bit of makeup to emphasize his playful eyes and rich lips. His outfit consisted of revealing straps of leather that accentuated his slim and wiry body. Not Isa¡¯s type, but she couldn¡¯t deny he looked good. He stepped up to the platform and did a slow turn to show his body off.


    ¡°Tenchi from Bellamoore,¡± Isa announced. One fat middle aged woman with too much makeup put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. How annoying. Once the whistles and cheers and the rest faded, Isa continued. ¡°A rising star here at the Garden, time with Tenchi can be best described as indulgent. He loves nothing more than pleasing you. It¡¯s a personal calling for him. Let¡¯s start him at 2 aquilos.¡±


    He sold for seven, a respectable price. All of them would add up to a nice, hefty sum for Samantha to help feed her family and aid in her recovery. More importantly than that, if things didn¡¯t improve¡­chances were Samantha wouldn¡¯t be able to return to work or make the heaping stacks of shards she used to charge. Helping her out was the least they could do. If the situations were reversed Isa had no doubt Samantha would do anything for¡­anyone, really.


    Next came Lynne, who had more personal stakes in the evening. Isa managed to restrain herself and be kind, knowing she would do anything for Sam. Aside from Kelli who often had to play nurse for Samantha, Lynne stayed by her side the most. Isa just let herself get into the hostess mindset and play nice for a change. She knew she was doing well when she caught Razia¡¯s eye and got a respectful nod from her instead of more of that shit eating grin.


    After Lynne came Cullen, who barely wore anything. Just a tiny, bulging cloth around his privates, showing off his muscles. Big, strong, and handsome, Cullen was possibly one of only two people in the Garden Isa actually ogled. Pity his temperament was too soft and go-with-the-flow. He sold for six, and looked happy enough to go with a well dressed couple.


    One after another, Isa called them up and sold her friends and coworkers for the next day, even including some of the newer girls working in the inns under some of the Shade¡¯s guidance. They didn¡¯t go for as much. It allowed for a little bit of a lull before Isa went for, in her opinion, the best the Garden had to offer. Isa took a drink of water before calling up her favorite.


    ¡°Lucy is something special,¡± she said, looking around. Half the room weren¡¯t paying attention to her anymore, happy with their current companions. ¡°Aside from being sweet, kind, and beautiful, Lucy has been touched by the gods. She was part of the miracle here a month ago, the willing sacrifice accepted by the Pierced Heart themself!¡±


    That got some whispers. Isa had no idea how many people believed in miracles. Until recently, Isa wouldn¡¯t have believed it either, but she couldn¡¯t deny the truth of what she felt. Lucy looked around nervously, a smile on her pretty face. For a change she was made up to look older instead of emphasizing her youth. Her pale skin and dark hair made her stand out, especially next to Isa¡¯s own dark complexion.


    ¡°If you want Lucy as your own personal path to a religious experience of your own, I¡¯m starting the price at five aquilos.¡±


    She had hardly finished speaking when one hand in the back went up immediately.


    It was Quentin.


    Then she remembered herself. ¡°F-five aquilos over there,¡± she pointed at him. ¡°She¡¯s worth at least double that. You can do better.¡±


    Their very first customer, the well positioned lawmaker Stavos raised his hand and called out, ¡°You¡¯re right about that. 10!¡± Around him, people muttered. Isa caught a couple of her regulars eyeing her, probably wondering if she would go for as much.


    Quentin held his hand up again and said, ¡°Make that twenty. And I¡¯ll buy Samantha a house.¡±


    The room fell silent. Lucy clasped her hands over her mouth. Isa looked over to Samantha in her oversized chair. Tears filled her eyes again, which wasn¡¯t unusual for her. This time she looked on the verge of ugly crying. She held her hands up at Quentin, clearly mouthing the words ¡®thank you¡¯.


    That bastard. Razia had convinced him to try something new alright. Isa glared daggers at the islander. Razia shrugged and clung to Quentin¡¯s arm with an infuriating, coy smile.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s going to top that,¡± Isa sighed, ¡°and I don¡¯t think it wise for anyone to try, if they know what¡¯s good for them.¡± She got a couple nervous chuckles. ¡°Our dear Lucy, to Mr. Q for twenty aquilos and a house.¡±


    The room applauded, but Isa tuned them out. She turned to Lucy, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer to whisper in her ear. ¡°Are you okay with us? You don¡¯t have to do this if you don¡¯t want to. It¡¯s just an excuse to give money to Samantha.¡±


    Lucy looked up at her, a strange look on her face. ¡°I¡­I think I want to,¡± she said, looking over at Quentin. Her face was bright red, which just irritated Isa more. ¡°I¡¯m okay with this Isa, really. No one forces me to do anything. Especially not him.¡± Lucy leaned forward and kissed Isa¡¯s cheek. ¡°Thanks for worrying about me, but it¡¯s okay.¡±


    Isa watched Lucy make the walk over to where Quentin and Razia stood, apart from the other patrons. The crowd parted for her, and she stopped in front of Quentin. He bent down to kiss her on the cheek and take her hands before they spoke. Isa had no idea what they were saying, and it ate at her.


    Someone conspicuously coughed, snapping Isa out of it. There was still one auction left. Hers.


    ¡°We¡¯ve saved the best for last,¡± she heard herself say. ¡°Me. I bid twenty aquilos on myself. Aaaand sold.¡± Isa stormed off the platform, pushing her way past people until she got to the garden. She went all the way up to the locked gate, looking out into the courtyard. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt queasy.


    Despite how she looked, Lucy was a grown-ass woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Logically, Isa knew this. It didn¡¯t take the bad taste out of her mouth, or the odd fury at the moonkissed bastard who once swore that none of them would ever have to have sex with him. Well, something had changed and this was apparently their announcement. Isa closed her eyes and willed her breathing to even out.


    ¡°Wanna hear something funny?¡± Razia asked from behind her. Isa didn¡¯t turn around.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Quentin asked me to be nicer to you. He said I¡¯ve been teasing you too much when you¡¯ve been working so hard to help, so please go easy on you.¡±


    ¡°I fail to see how that¡¯s funny,¡± Isa seethed.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not the funny part.¡± Razia came up beside her, leaning against the gate. ¡°I tried to be nice to you this entire time. When Quentin agreed to try branching out and exploring a little, I suggested you for tonight.¡±


    ¡°Ha fucking ha,¡± Isa spat. ¡°Does it amuse you? Knowing what you do about me and throwing it in my face? I regret ever touching his corpse.¡±


    ¡°Still not the funny part! The funny part is Quentin said he would love to, but he didn¡¯t think you would go for it. That¡¯s why he chose Lucy. You were my first suggestion and he thought there was no way you would ever say yes to him, given¡­well, everything.¡±


    Isa found herself laughing. Not at first. First came the pain of Razia twisting the knife and teasing her further. Then the absurdity of it all hit her and she laughed until tears filled her eyes. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just great,¡± she said. ¡°Fantastic. So what¡¯s the deal, you two get bored of each other already?¡±


    Razia shook her head. ¡°Not at all. Let¡¯s just say Quentin got a late start on things and we¡¯re continuing and widening his education.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Isa wiped at her eyes, ¡°you¡¯re going to use Lucy like a customer or any other pimp would. You think I would rather be in her place? Do you really think I want to fuck your man that badly? Please. Maybe I don¡¯t know what I want, but I know I don¡¯t envy Lucy. She¡¯s now just another pretty girl to fuck now.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe that for a second. Maybe you once did, but you know better now.¡± Razia¡¯s voice softened. ¡°He thinks you¡¯re beautiful, you know. He respects you. And he¡¯s grateful for you. Tonight and tomorrow, we¡¯re going to relax and I think it¡¯ll be good for both Quentin and Lucy. And if you ever have any interest¡­¡±


    ¡°Funny, I didn¡¯t peg him for the type of man who wants to be fucked by a woman.¡±


    Razia smiled and put her hand on Isa¡¯s shoulder. ¡°He doesn¡¯t.¡± And then she walked away, leaving Isa alone with her thoughts.


    Isa collapsed onto one of the stone benches, burying her face in her hands. She was supposed to be better than this, tougher than this. Instead, she was weak and greedy, hungry for something she¡¯d never get and maybe didn¡¯t deserve. Razia had been right. Isa didn¡¯t believe Quentin would just use Lucy. And he definitely wouldn¡¯t have used Isa. She laughed again, until her body shook silently. They¡¯d expect her back at the party soon, but¡­not yet.


    She stayed out there a while, staring up at the waxing moon.

 Chapter 109: Set the Bait

    The weight of Byrne¡¯s watchful eyes bore down on Kelli, making an already stressful time so much worse. Ever since she did as she was told and tried to poison Quintius and got Samantha instead, Kelli expected to be exposed and killed for her actions. Getting the wrong person had almost been the last straw. Running for it seemed more and more like a potential plan, given how things escalated, but fear kept her where she was.


    ¡°...and then I spent the next day servicing a merchant and listening to him blather on about his ungrateful children,¡± she finished, folding in half in her chair. Kelli buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know how any of this is useful. I feel like I¡¯m not going to be any more help. They¡¯ve gotten paranoid, and are keeping things close to their chest.¡±


    Of all the things Kelli passed along to her handler, Razia confronting her about being a spy hadn¡¯t been one of them. Her position remained precarious enough without the Warlords deciding it would be smarter to kill her off rather than risk her being exposed or used against them. So she told what she could and lied the rest of the time. Running seemed smarter every day, and yet she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°So long as they don¡¯t suspect you, you¡¯re in a good position to strike if we need to,¡± Byrne said in a talking-to-children kind of tone. Like his patience held out but wouldn¡¯t for much longer, so stop arguing please. ¡°Think of it this way, Kelli. The sooner we find one last good use for you, the sooner you can get out and walk away a rich woman.


    ¡°Just because everyone is laying low for the moment doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re off the hook or that the war is over,¡± he said, turning and rummaging through a trunk beside the table. He retrieved a small, bulging sac that clinked pleasantly and slapped it on the table beside her. ¡°Consider this a small bonus, for your continued efforts. All we need is one more usable thing from you. But if you disappoint us¡­¡±


    Kelli eyed the bag of shards. She knew a trap when she saw one, but maybe if she took them and slipped away¡­With a sigh, she scooped up the shards in her lap. ¡°Not like I¡¯m gonna get a chance to spend it before this stupid street war gets me,¡± she muttered.


    Byrne pursed his lips. He himself wasn¡¯t especially scary. The scariest part of him lay in not knowing how far he¡¯d go, or what he thought at any given moment. Unlike Piro and Christophe¡¯s hot tempers and impulsivity, Byrne was quiet, calculating, and watched her like a hawk. Kelli doubted he had much love or respect for her, but who could tell?


    ¡°Then it¡¯s in your best interest to spend it on yourself soon. Go out and have fun. Mingle with the other girls and make sure your position is safe. You say you¡¯re still friends with some of the whores?¡±


    Kelli sighed, jiggling the bag in her hand thoughtlessly. ¡°Yeah. Jenna sees me as her best friend, and she¡¯s been a good source of information. But she just never stops talking when it¡¯s just the two of us.¡±


    Byrne stood up and opened the door. ¡°Then I suggest you stick near her until she gives you more information we can use. Off you go now.¡±


    Kelli rose, nodding and slipping the bag of shards into her purse. It had a weight she may have once considered pleasant, but now it felt like an anchor around her neck, promising to drag her down. She made to step through the door when Byrne stopped her with his hand on her chest. Her blood ran cold.


    ¡°Before you go,¡± he said, voice dropping to something just above a whisper, ¡°I want to impress upon you just how much scrutiny you¡¯re under. Running or trying to leave Orchrisus for any reason would be a very, very bad idea. Do we understand one another, Kelli?¡±


    She shuddered, dropping her eyes to the ground. Could he read minds? She could record voices and perform them on command, it wasn¡¯t out of the question. ¡°Yes sir,¡± she said, voice wavering. ¡°I won¡¯t run.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Then please, have a good night and do something good for yourself. You deserve it for your hard work.¡± The door closed, leaving her alone in the hallway.


    Kelli took a few seconds to collect herself and steady her breathing before she went to her room. Moonlight trailed in through the window, illuminating the bed. She sat down hard, dropping her purse on the floor and hugging herself, trying to suppress the way her body rocked with held back sobs.


    She was going to die. Nothing could save her now. No running, no hiding, no getting out of this stupid job she should never have accepted. Kelli laughed bitterly, how could she have known how bad it would get? Working a whorehouse had never appealed to her, but she just figured it would be a way to double dip on shards before moving on to the next country on her world tour. She¡¯d made it all the way from Finsk to here, so why not continue on to Carolas and Cartinia afterwards?


    Running sounded better and better, but Byrne had someone watching her every move from a distance, just to be sure. For all Kelli knew, they had another spy working the Garden just for her. The Warlords hadn¡¯t seemed especially cohesive or coherent, but Byrne changed her mind about that. As one of Piro¡¯s top lieutenants, he proved the Warlords didn¡¯t entirely lack cunning or patience. He didn¡¯t yell, and this was the first time he threatened her. Arguably, she needed it.


    Night turned to morning and then afternoon in just a flash. Kelli slept fitfully, dreaming of all bosses, her potential killers if things went sour. She woke unsatisfied just after noon and headed out with a full purse, unsure of what to do but glad to just roam the streets for a while. Funny enough, the Boulevard ended up being one of the safer areas, thanks almost entirely to the Shades and their allies.


    All Kelli had to worry about was being followed and discovered.


    Not today, though. Shopkeepers kept a watchful eye along with more security than before, but business boomed. After weeks of war making the streets flow with blood, things were almost back on track. Kelli took that opportunity to linger, looking over different stalls and shops. She found a pair of matching bracelets and with a grimace, she bought them.


    After stopping for a quick lunch of good Finskovite sausage and sauerkraut, she finally headed to work. The Moonlit Garden always had someone on watch outside it now, and the gladiator barely gave her a second look as he let her in. None of the rank and file seemed to suspect her. Just Razia. As far as she knew, she kept it from Quentin and Kelli didn¡¯t have to worry about him.


    The Garden was always crowded these days, despite not entirely being open for business. All the whores either lived there or practically lived there and there were never fewer than a dozen gladiators hanging around, drinking and laughing and bothering the girls, ready for a fight at a moment¡¯s notice. One of them, Jason she thought, met her eyes and smiled at her. Kelli did her best to ignore him and sat down on a couch beside Lucy.


    ¡°Hey Kelli,¡± she said, sounding both tired and lazy. She had a small, secretive smile and looked to be in a good mood. Annoyingly so. ¡°How¡¯d you fare after your 24 hours? Sore? Bored?¡±


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    Kelli groaned, theatrically throwing herself against the arm of the couch. ¡°If I ever have to see another wrinkly pair of balls that close again I¡¯m going to vomit.¡±


    Lucy chuckled awkwardly. ¡°I get you. Do you mind if I ask you a question?¡±


    Kelli shrugged, motioning for her to go for it.


    ¡°Why are you here? You don¡¯t seem to like it here, and you get in fights a lot. What makes you stay?¡±


    Oh no. Now even the other girls were looking at her with suspicion.


    ¡°It pays really, really well,¡± said Kelli, eyes dropping to her feet. ¡°I thought it would be something I¡¯m good at, and I guess I¡¯m okay, but¡­I probably won¡¯t stick around forever. I want to make enough money to get out of Orchrisus and travel, you know? And this is something in demand everywhere, so why not? I mean, not like you plan on doing this forever, right?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­probably not forever, no,¡± Lucy admitted. ¡°But Isa¡¯s still doing it and she¡¯s like ten years older than me. Maria was still at it and she was in her forties. I¡¯m still figuring out what I want to do. There¡¯s just¡­So much out there.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever considered traveling?¡± Kelli fiddled with her hands. As scared and nervous as she was, she could still distract with the best of them. Even as bad as she could be, she knew the first lesson about being a spy or being a whore was that most people loved talking about themselves.


    ¡°Where would I even go?¡± she asked, shrugging helplessly. ¡°Not safe to travel alone for me, and I don¡¯t have anyone to go with me. Or know where to go. Though I would love to see Bellamoore sometime. I hear it smells bad but there¡¯s these beautiful lights at night in the swamps and wetlands that are like nothing else.¡±


    ¡°What about Jonas?¡± said Kelli, shuffling closer and elbowing Lucy in the ribs. ¡°I haven¡¯t missed how you look at him. Nobody does. Or Mr. Q, given the last two days¡­¡±


    Lucy made a distressed noise. ¡°Jonas doesn¡¯t notice me. He likes dusk-girls and other men, I think. And¡­Mr. Q and Razia was¡­I don¡¯t know if it was a one time thing but it wasn¡¯t anything serious.¡±


    As little as Kelli wanted to know about their sex lives, she knew it would probably be smart to get all the info she could. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to. Not after the past two days left a bad taste in her mouth. Instead she just said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that, about Jonas. Hey, where¡¯s Jenna?¡±


    Lucy seemed grateful for the change in topic. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s out at an appointment. She¡¯ll be back before too long, I think. Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no reason,¡± Kelli shrugged. ¡°Just figured she¡¯d have some good stories about her twenty four hours. She always cracks me up.¡± Gag. Still, Lucy bought it.


    Kelli got up soon after and ventured into the kitchen to get a drink while she waited. Unfortunately for her, the kitchen wasn¡¯t empty. Normally Samantha spent the most time there, cooking up simple meals for all of them before they started, but tonight Isa worked the stove. Isa looked over her shoulder and shot pure venom from her eyes.


    ¡°The fuck do you want?¡± she spat.


    Anger and hatred of her own boiled up inside her. ¡°I was just going to get a drink, if it¡¯s alright with you your majesty.¡±


    Isa waved her off. ¡°No. Get out of my sight while you still can.¡±


    Something had changed. The Ramali woman always hated Kelli, right from day one, but it had gotten way worse over the past few weeks. Almost as if she knew. Panic gripped her a moment before Kelli smoothed it over. If Isa knew, she would¡¯ve done something about it. Maybe it had something to do with the auction and her foul mood after.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem, Isa? You¡¯ve been up my ass since I first started working here.¡± Kelli stood her ground, puffing herself up as tall as she could. It still didn¡¯t come close to Isa¡¯s height. ¡°Even when I try to stay the hell away from you, you give me shit. Why?¡±


    Isa didn¡¯t answer at first, shifting the contents of the skillet around continuously. She poured the eggs onto a simple plate and set it down. Kelli took it as a sign to just ignore her right back and get some wine. Seconds after she grabbed a bottle from the rack and turned away, she got her answer.


    ¡°You complain. Endlessly. You think you¡¯re better than everyone else. You talk shit to literally everyone around you. And if I¡¯m the one complaining about those traits, you know you¡¯re a piece of shit. I hate you and if you were on fire, I wouldn¡¯t piss on you to save your life.¡±


    What surprised Kelli was the lack of heat in Isa¡¯s voice. She had her usual impatient edge, but she didn¡¯t sound enraged or ready to hurt her. Yet. Cold hate, Kelli decided, felt way worse. It could even be downright scary how simple Isa¡¯s hatred seemed.


    ¡°Well, I hate you too, you rancid cunt,¡± Kelli said cheerfully. ¡°You¡¯ve been an asshole since the moment I got here, so excuse me for not trying to make friends. Everyone else seems to like me well enough, so fuck off and die.¡±


    Isa turned around slowly. Kelli had never seen so much fury and hatred in a person¡¯s eyes and couldn¡¯t help but take a step back. It was too late. With a feral scream Isa launched herself at Kelli, tackling her to the ground. Kelli hit the ground hard and gasped as the air got knocked out of her. By the time she registered that, Isa¡¯s hands closed around her throat and squeezed.


    Kelli thrashed violently, swinging her fists into Isa¡¯s face but not doing much more than pissing the larger woman off. Panic gripped her twice as hard as Isa¡¯s hands. She kicked and rocked from side to side as spots blinked in her vision, widening and spreading darkness.


    ¡°Isa? What are you doing? Isa, STOP!¡± Someone screamed. A few seconds later Isa¡¯s hands left her as she got pulled away by Jonas. ¡°Stop it,¡± he pleaded with her, even as she struggled to get out of his grasp, throwing elbows and whipping her head around.


    Kelli gasped for air, clutching at her throat. She sucked in every greedy lungful she could, shaking as her entire body screamed for her to run, get away from the danger, anything to avoid that happening again. After a few false starts she managed to get to her feet and backed up into a corner, eyes darting around wildly.


    ¡°What the hell happened here?¡± Jonas demanded.


    Kelli pointed at Isa. ¡°We argued and she just tried to fucking kill me!¡±


    ¡°Get over here and I¡¯ll finish the job bitch!¡± Isa snarled, but eventually went limp in Jonas¡¯ arms. The gladiator dragged her out of the kitchen. Once Kelli caught her breath, she came out cautiously, wondering how bad it would be.


    The entire Garden stared at the two of them, whores and gladiators alike. Quintius was there, his hands on Isa¡¯s shoulders. ¡°She trampled my last fucking nerve,¡± Isa hissed, pulling away from Quentin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what happened,¡± Quintius yelled, the first time Kelli could ever remember him raising his voice. ¡°Get over to my house. We¡¯ll talk about this later.¡±


    The dusk-girl glowered at him but did as she was told. She trudged off, leaving all of the attention on Kelli. Tears welled up in her eyes, not entirely fake. ¡°We argued and she jumped on me,¡± she whined, letting the tears run down her face. ¡°I know we¡¯re not friends but¡­¡±


    Quintius came up to her and touched her arms tentatively. She wanted to pull away but instead buried herself in his middle and cried, hugging him. The big sap could never resist when one of his girls hurt. He let her cry there for a minute or two before it tapered off. Continuing would¡¯ve been forcing it, so Kelli pulled away, sniffling.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, wiping at her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know I¡¯m not popular, but¡­¡±


    His naturally scowling face looked especially harsh then. She averted her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s¡­It¡¯s okay. Take care of yourself. And for your troubles, Isa¡¯s next day of profits go to you. That sound fair?¡±


    Oh shit, her first bit of money from this shithole since the party. Kelli nodded tentatively. ¡°Thank you. I promise, I¡¯ll stay out of her way from now on. Just¡­please don¡¯t let her kill me.¡±


    His lips twitched. ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises there,¡± he said, and she let out a nervous laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll be having a talk with Isa though. She¡¯s been in a foul mood the past couple of days and I¡¯m tired of it.¡± With one last nod he left her there.


    Eventually, everyone stopped staring at her and went back to what they were doing. All except for one person. Jenna came up to her, wide eyed and worried. ¡°Are you okay, Kelli? I¡¯ve never seen Isa that angry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I think,¡± Kelli said, tenderly touching her bruised throat. ¡°Shit, that was scary and it hurt. I¡­Let¡¯s talk about something else. How did your appointment go? After yesterday I thought you¡¯d take a break.¡±


    Jenna¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°I had a really high offer today! Someone paid ten aquilos for me, for whatever reason. So me and Mr. Q went down to this house near North River Row. Dangerous, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! I can¡¯t believe he was willing to go that close to the bridge these days.¡± That was interesting news.


    ¡°I know! I asked him about that and he said it¡¯s fine if we¡¯re well protected. And since the street war is paused, he said he¡¯ll handle any big spenders, try to build up some goodwill and reputation again. He¡¯s going to be going out again later tonight for Lucy, I think.¡±


    Oh. Kelli bit her lip to avoid smiling. ¡°That makes sense,¡± she said, mind already racing with possibilities. She wanted out of this damned whorehouse, out of this damned city, out of this horrible country. That would only happen when Quintius was dead.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said suddenly, rubbing at her throat. ¡°After Isa tried to kill me I just¡­I kind of don¡¯t want to be here right now. Do you think it¡¯s okay if I skipped out for the day?¡±


    Jenna nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone could blame you. I don¡¯t have any more clients. Want to go out and do something together? Maybe make it a spa day and get cleaned up and pampered.¡±


    Kelli smiled. ¡°That sounds excellent. Let¡¯s do that.¡± She could afford to be patient. Sure that no one could see her, she twisted the gem on her ring, alerting Byrne that she had new information for him. He could wait a bit while her and Jenna threw off suspicion and had some fun. With info this good, maybe she could finally get the fuck out with a fat pile of shards to her name. She and Jenna left the Garden, a fresh skip to her step.

 Chapter 110: An Unmissable Opportunity

    Fucking Piro. Christophe threw some poor bastard who should¡¯ve run into a building. He fell to the ground hard and didn¡¯t get back up, so Christophe turned his attention to the rest of the battle. If it wasn¡¯t for Piro¡¯s inability to understand consequences, he wouldn¡¯t have to be out here and in the middle of a stupid fight with their pissant neighbors. Before Piro torched a bunch of northern VIPs, they knew their place.


    ¡°Die, you fat piece of shit!¡± One of them screamed at him before charging him, sword raising in the air. Christophe waited until he was just about in range and then backhanded him. The kid rolled along the ground. He looked up in time to see Christophe¡¯s boot come down on his head.


    Once upon a time, the Warlords were a feared group, capable of maintaining control of the South without much issue. Sure they had some people over on the east side who had territory of their own, and they banded together to stop the Warlords¡¯ complete takeover, but they knew to keep to themselves and not start shit.


    Not anymore.


    Two of his own men ran past Christophe, knives out. They collided with a few of the other gang, Manfred¡¯s Manaics. Manfred was nowhere to be seen like the coward he was, so his men had to die in his place. It wouldn¡¯t be any skin off Christophe¡¯s back had they not been low on men and stretched thin these days. Another thing he could blame Quintius¡¯ raids for.


    Christophe grabbed a nearby Maniac and lifted him into the air. The man screamed and struggled but couldn¡¯t do a damned thing about it. With all of his strength, Christophe hurled the man at a couple of his friends, sending them all to the ground. His own men took care of them soon after.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the battle to end. The Maniacs had decent manpower but they were even less trained than the Warlords and didn¡¯t have a malevolent giant leading them. This time Christophe didn¡¯t feel any satisfaction at the victory, or even relief of another problem dealt with. His thoughts were occupied entirely with how far they¡¯d fallen to even have to go for it.


    ¡°A few runners got away,¡± his field second, Barbas said, wiping away blood from a cut on his cheek. ¡°You want us to give chase?¡±


    ¡°Why bother?¡± Christophe snarled. ¡°They¡¯re nothing. Best they can do it spread the word that it¡¯s suicide to try to pick a fight with us. Too many of these cocksuckers have forgotten their place. Search the injured, kill any survivors and gather their weapons and shards. I¡¯m sick of being out here. I need a drink.¡±


    Barbas nodded wordlessly, bowing his head respectfully before running and issuing out orders to the rest of them. Christophe wiped away sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily. Spring was almost over, and still these assholes thought to conduct raids during the day when it would get hotter and hotter as the seasons changed. No decency to strike at night when it¡¯d be less miserable for everyone involved.


    The rest of the battle didn¡¯t matter to him. Christophe stormed off, trusting his men to handle all the clean up. The streets were practically empty, as they tended to be when violence broke out. Few places were as dangerous as the desert city, and its people knew when to make themselves scarce and when to come back out and rebuild. A little scrap like this wouldn¡¯t even register as noteworthy anymore.


    At this point, despite being wanted for half a year now, Christophe didn¡¯t have to worry about the Watch. They stuck to richer neighborhoods, doing what they could to keep the excess fighting from the quality while all the little people suffered. He couldn¡¯t complain, it made his job easier and it was nice being able to walk out in the middle of the day without having to worry about being hassled. It would be even nicer if they didn¡¯t have to deal with uppity street scum.


    After a few weeks, the heat wasn¡¯t as bad as it had been, but still Christophe expected to see more major players coming after them. If not from the other gangs, then from the palace. The fact that Piro murdered important politicians should¡¯ve made it a sure thing for the Shadowspeakers to descend on them and disappear them somewhere.


    It hadn¡¯t happened, and it made Christophe paranoid. Were they being watched even now, or did Piro have some secret he hadn¡¯t told him? It would be just like him, too. Especially after three months of leaving him to rot in a safehouse. Grumbling to himself, Christophe walked the rest of the way home, back to their main hangout. He got himself a few bottles and sat in the back room, stewing in his thoughts.


    Things used to be fun. No other word fit. The Warlords had a solid 40% of the world¡¯s largest city under their control, taking in a piece of every action in their territories. The shards piled up and he and Piro lived like kings, doing whatever the fuck they felt like with no one daring to stop them.


    Then that stupid whore betrayed them and broke their winning streak and doomed them to months of inaction, of having to be careful and rebuild, only to then be attacked by a group of well trained gladiators. Again and again and again. They struck hard and fast and left just as quickly, bleeding Christophe¡¯s men and undermining their power. One good counterattack left them at a stalemate, but he knew the Warlords were at a disadvantage.


    Darker and darker his thoughts went as the bottle emptied and time passed. Eventually the door opened and Piro walked in, as giddy as a little girl with a new doll. The shaper bounced from foot to foot, eyes twinkling. Christophe hated it.


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    ¡°The hell¡¯s wrong with you?¡± he griped. ¡°You look like you¡¯re ready to piss yourself.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I am, Christophe, maybe I am! I bring excellent news. Come in and tell him what you told me,¡± he said to the person behind him. Byrne stepped inside the room after Piro, looking at Christophe with his usual inscrutable air.


    ¡°Our bitch up north finally give us something usable?¡±


    ¡°You could say that,¡± said Byrne, taking a seat across from him. Piro sat on the side of the table between them.


    ¡°Christophe, my beloved big brother, how would you like to finally kill Quentin Quintius? Permanently this time. Hopefully.¡±


    And just like that, Christophe¡¯s dark mood turned around. ¡°I would like that very much,¡± he said, finishing his bottle of wine. ¡°Do you have some way of giving me this or are you just jerking me around?¡±


    ¡°We have a way and the start of a plan,¡± said Byrne, inclining his head Christophe¡¯s way. ¡°Our spy has kept me well to date on what¡¯s happening in the Moonlit Garden and on the nearby streets. It¡¯s important to note that while the twin pronged attack was successful at destabilizing the area and getting Cicero killed, it hasn¡¯t hurt the Shades nearly as bad as we would¡¯ve hoped.¡±


    Piro threw his head back and laughed. ¡°Cicero getting killed by his own men is just exquisite. I couldn¡¯t have planned that better if I tried.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t plan that at all,¡± Christophe snapped. ¡°You just caused chaos to see what would happen and hoped it would turn out for the best. We¡¯ve been lucky, nothing else. What else?¡± He turned back to Byrne.


    Byrne nodded and continued as if he hadn¡¯t been interrupted. ¡°There has been a great deal of infighting among the northern gangs as they tried to establish dominance and seize as much of Cicero¡¯s empire as possible. So far, it¡¯s down to five major factions, including the Shades and some allies they¡¯ve managed to make. They¡¯re claiming a huge chunk of the Boulevard of Saint Trassius. I fear that they¡¯re increasing in power by the day.¡±


    Christophe growled, glowering at Piro. Piro held his hands up in surrender. ¡°I¡¯ll be the first to admit that sometimes things backfire. I really expected the other gangs to tear them apart and barring that, their own activities cracked down by the Watch. How was I supposed to know they¡¯d end up better off for it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe stop underestimating them,¡± Christophe said, rubbing at his temples. Sometimes talking with Piro gave him the worst headache.


    Byrne cleared his throat. ¡°You have an opportunity coming up. My spy discovered that with everything going on right now, Quintius makes personal appointments for high spenders at their whorehouse. They¡¯re currently escorting their whores directly to clients for safety, and anything ten aquilos or more at a guess will get Quintius to come on his own.


    ¡°My suggestion is that we use my good reputation in the north as a way to schedule an appointment with our spy. If we do this a couple of times, we can --¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Christophe interrupted. ¡°I want him now. Everything you¡¯ve told us about Quintius and everything I¡¯ve seen of him myself tells me he¡¯s not one for guile or tact. If he¡¯s going around protecting his girls personally it means he¡¯s gotten cocky and thinks he can handle it. I¡¯m tired of waiting around and I really don¡¯t like hearing that that bitch and her moonkissed pet are doing better than us. We end this as soon as possible.¡±


    His heart thundered in his head at the thought of it. Their last fight hadn¡¯t gone Christophe¡¯s way. It had been damned embarrassing, having to limp home and pull bolt after bolt out of his skin. His fat got in the way of them hitting anything vital, but enough pinpricks and even a giant like him would bleed to death. His rings could only do so much. This time would be different. One on one, Quintius had no chance.


    ¡°I highly recommend setting me up as a big spender and over the course of a few weeks --¡±


    Piro snapped his fingers and pointed at him. ¡°You heard Christophe, we¡¯re doing it in one go. Aside from wanting instant gratification, the longer we draw it out the better chance there is that someone discovers who you are. Coming here today with all this heat was enough of a risk. We¡¯ll get you back over there tonight and then in the morning you¡¯ll make an appointment for later this week. We¡¯ll transport the big man over in a cart alongside some wine and silks and have the appointment at our hideout up there. Quintius and our orally talented spy will come to the house and you¡¯ll welcome them in. Once their guard is down Christophe and a few of our boys will gut the bastard and bring his body back here.


    ¡°If he gets up again, well then we¡¯ll just have to kill him. Over and over and over if we have to. Doesn¡¯t that sound nice, brother?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Christophe said, a savage smile taking over his face. ¡°That sounds most agreeable.¡±


    Their lieutenant sighed. Christophe didn¡¯t like it, but Byne earned the right to doubt their plans and have his voice heard. ¡°As you like it. I would at least like some men on lookout to make sure nothing bad happens. Like another counter ambush.¡±


    ¡°Oh pshaw,¡± said Piro, waving him off. ¡°With Cicero dead, what¡¯re the odds of it happening again? If you like I can come along and we can kill him together, brother.¡±


    Christophe shook his head vehemently. ¡°No, I want to do this on my own. I¡¯m not saying I don¡¯t trust you, but after last time I don¡¯t fucking trust you. You¡¯ll have your extra eyes,¡± he said to Byrne, ¡°but I don¡¯t need anyone else to take on Quintius. I¡¯m going to tear him limb from limb and beat him to death with his own arms. I¡¯m going to put this immortal shit to rest.¡±


    He didn¡¯t give a damn if it was foolish or not. More than just a grudge, it was a matter of pride. Piro didn¡¯t and couldn¡¯t understand that. Piro would let others think him weak if it gave him an advantage to later exploit. He¡¯d find it funny, even. Christophe wasn¡¯t like that.


    ¡°As you like it, then,¡± said Piro. ¡°But I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯ve got some fresh rings, including some brief invisibility if you need to get away. You going to accept that much, or will that make you feel all weak and needy?¡± He fluttered his eyelashes at Christophe.


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Christophe laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll take your rings. And I¡¯m going to take his godsdamned head and keep it as a trophy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Byrne, make it happen!¡± Piro drummed his fingers along the table. ¡°Take a few of the quieter and smarter men, people who know how to lay low and keep an eye open. At the first sign of trouble, I want to know about it. Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Of course sir,¡± said Byrne, standing up. ¡°Right away.¡± He left the room. As soon as he was gone, Christophe scoffed.


    ¡°How¡¯d you find him again? He¡¯s way too quiet and serious. Gives me the fucking creeps.¡±


    Piro shook his head. ¡°At least one of us needs to have our heads on straight. You¡¯re too much of a meathead for details, and it sure as hell isn¡¯t going to be me. He does good work. He¡¯s been managing our spy this last month, hasn¡¯t he? And look what it brought us. I think I¡¯m going to head off too. I¡¯ve got some detailed artificing to do. Shields, bleeding stoppers, healing, and invisibility. Anything else sound good to you?¡±


    ¡°Naw. That should do it. This is it, Piro. Another week and the last obstacle will be out of our way.¡± Christophe smiled. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll even be able to clean up your mess afterwards and get back to being normal instead of having to fight off Manfred and the other pissants down here.¡±


    Standing up, Piro shrugged and dusted his expensive clothes off. ¡°You enjoy it, don¡¯t lie. So take a nice break for a few days, rest up and make sure you¡¯re ready for a fight. If you don¡¯t win this time we might be in some trouble.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Christophe scoffed. It wasn¡¯t a bad idea though. A good meal, some drinks, and a couple of girls would be just the way to relax after a hard day fighting. One week, and then it would all be over.¡±

 Chapter 111: Sweet, Sweet, Vengeance

    The message came in early in the morning, the better part of a day before the appointment. Jonas knocked on Quentin¡¯s door, and he woke at once, sitting straight up. Beside him, Razia stirred. He smiled, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. She smiled, but didn¡¯t open her eyes. It was for the best; she didn¡¯t need to be awake for this. She¡¯d only worry.


    ¡°Our eyes on the street saw them,¡± Jonas whispered when Quentin opened the door. ¡°They reported a big cart wheeling in front of the house, and then Christophe and a couple of bodyguards went in. A few more stayed around, keeping watch. I think there¡¯s like 6 people stationed in the area around the house, ready to give warning.¡±


    Just as they expected, more or less. There was always the chance Kelli would bait them with a few instances of premium appointments before ambushing him, but Razia assured them Christophe would be too eager to kill. She was right, and she¡¯d be delighted to hear so in the morning. For now, Quentin had a job to do.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± he whispered. ¡°Have you told the men?¡±


    Jonas shook his head. ¡°I was waiting to tell you first. Should I get them ready?¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°I want to be ready to go in an hour. Make sure everyone¡¯s armed and ready to move fast, move quietly, and cause some trouble. If the Watch gives us trouble, I¡¯ll take the heat while everyone else runs.¡± All things he¡¯d already said, but Quentin was ever the worrier, always ready to make sure everyone remained on the same page.


    ¡°Right,¡± Jonas nodded and retreated.


    Alone now, Quentin got dressed in the dark, slipping away to his trophy room to get his armor. It slid on like a hard second skin, more comfortable now than it had been in that brief period of peace and prosperity for the Garden. The prosperity endured, but safety felt like a long lost dream. Maybe after they finally dealt with this, things could go back to the way they were. Quentin scoffed at his own hopefulness.


    On the wall were three new tapestries, hanging above his weapons. One for the Darkstar, his patron whether he wanted it or not. Another for the Pierced Heart, who blessed their business and sped his recovery. And finally one for the Warcaller, god of battle and games, whom Quentin honored with every brawl and victory. They hung together in a trio, weight bearing down on him comfortably.


    He¡¯d never been a pious man before. Quentin still didn¡¯t know how he felt about the gods and the imperfect, cruel world they drifted away from. Just the same, he couldn¡¯t deny their touch in his life and their presence in the world. He didn¡¯t know if he prayed to them to ask for help or to acknowledge them and show them proper respect as he fought for his own fate. Either seemed equally likely, and equally unimportant. He prayed because for once, it felt right.


    Quentin didn¡¯t bother with a sword and shield this time. Two fights in a row showed they wouldn¡¯t be much good against a man strong enough to punch through shields and ignore the teeth of a blade on his skin. Instead, he grabbed an ax, testing the solid weight of it in one hand. Every time it seemed like he could get away from it, he was called to be an executioner again. He promised his people two long awaited deaths, and they¡¯d have it.


    The early morning was still black, lit up by a sea of stars and the full moon. How appropriate. Jonas and some of the others waited for him in the Garden. Some of the girls were up, like Isa, who leaned against a pillar, watching the rest of them like a hawk. Twenty men, a small amount compared to what he could¡¯ve brought, but it would be all they needed. Others were already on their way to meet up with some of their allied spies and take out Christophe¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± Quentin said simply. ¡°You all know what it is we¡¯re doing today, and how vital it is that we succeed. I don¡¯t see much of a point to a speech here, so I¡¯m not going to give one. When we get there, we¡¯re going to kill Christophe and put an end to most of this struggle. Without their main leader, the Warlords might come up and start trouble but they won¡¯t be half as organized. We¡¯re cutting off the head of the snake today.¡±


    They didn¡¯t cheer or whoop or anything like that. Instead, Jonas banged his hand against his armor rhythmically. Soon, Pete joined in, and then David, Kit, and the others until they were all in sync, each loud thump thundering through the room more than their voices would. Finally, when everyone else joined in Quentin did too, nodding at Jonas as he slammed his fist into the beetle chitin armor.


    And then he turned around and the banging stopped. He went out the door and his Shades followed, off to war.


    They were almost to summer now and the spring morning felt nearly as warm as a winter day. More people, often beggars, stayed out on the streets at this hour rather than seeking shelter. They watched quietly, some as still as a mouse caught by a snake, as the well armed gang passed them by. Quentin stopped at one point to drop a few shards in an old man¡¯s bowl, giving him a respectful nod before continuing on.


    The only sound was nearly two dozen feet stomping the ground as they wound their way down the Boulevard. The closer they got, the more Quentin¡¯s heart pounded and his entire being vibrated with excitement and nerves. It had been a while since he felt afraid before a fight. Even the invasion was more surprise than anything, but going after the big man himself¡­excitement just barely won out over fear.


    They encountered the first dead spy five minutes away from the house. At least, Quentin assumed the corpse with the freshly slit throat was a Warlord or one of their spies. One of Mouse¡¯s crew saluted him as he passed, and Quentin returned the gesture.


    Not far from the house, they came across a Watch patrol. Quentin stopped just short of them, the rest of his gang falling in behind him. Out of everyone, Quentin alone didn¡¯t wear a mask. Not today. When Christophe realized what was happening, Quentin wanted him to know it and see him as he died. Quentin nodded to the Silver in front.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said. ¡°We won¡¯t be any trouble today. Just passing through.¡±


    The Silver spat on the ground. ¡°We¡¯ve got our orders. You won¡¯t have any trouble with us, scum. So long as you don¡¯t hurt any civilians. You do that, and I don¡¯t give a damn who is looking out for you, I¡¯ll --¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Quentin interjected. ¡°We¡¯re here to kill a man with a bounty on his head. No one else. You have my word.¡±


    ¡°The hell is the word of a gangster worth?¡± the Silver scoffed, but he got out of the way and his people followed. They watched as the line of Shades continued on to the big house just a couple blocks from the bridge.


    Not all the spies had been taken care of, it turned out. They didn¡¯t need to be. By the time Quentin and his gang came close, it was already too late to raise a warning. One tried, but behind Quentin Kit stepped out and raised his bolter. The wooden bolt sank into his chest and sent him to the ground. He clutched at the embedded wood, gasping for breath. They ignored him and surrounded the house.


    This was it.


    Quentin raised a hand and motioned for the next step in the plan. From the back came two Shades with planks of wood and some tools. They got into place and covered the door with the planks, hammering them in into the wooden doorframe. From the second story a light turned on. Quentin looked up, and even with his bad vision clearly saw Christophe through the window. Quentin smiled, everything inside him telling him to go for it.


    He listened to that voice and called out, ¡°Burn it!¡±


    Unlike the last couple of times, his men didn¡¯t just carry weapons with them. A number of them carried alchemical flasks with a glowing orange liquid. They got into place as others smashed open the windows on the ground floor. At a nod from Quentin they hurled the flasks inside. They smashed against the ground and fire exploded out, catching furniture and rugs on fire.


    The heat came back at them like a runaway cart, and Quentin shielded his face with an arm before the fires shrank back to a manageable size. The inside burned, vulnerable to fire in a way the foundation and walls weren¡¯t. Maybe Christophe couldn¡¯t be easily cut, but he would either burn or choke to death unless he -- there!


    Quentin motioned for people to take a step back. A second later Christophe burst through the upstairs window, taking part of the wall with him. He rolled down the overhang and landed on the floor of the street amidst shards of shattered glass and clay. Christophe landed hard and the ground rumbled from the blow. The nearest Shades made to rush forward but Quentin held them back with a raised fist.


    ¡°Hello, Christophe,¡± he said. ¡°Any last words you want us to pass along to Piro before we kill you?¡± He wasn¡¯t half as brave as he hoped he sounded. Taunting people before death wasn¡¯t something Quentin did, and he found himself not caring for it in general. For Christophe, he¡¯d make an exception. ¡°Any other loved ones to inform?¡±


    Christophe pushed against the ground, taking his good sweet time getting back to his feet. When he did he wobbled, pain clear on his face as the house behind him burned on the inside. Shards of glass were imbedded in his skin, blood around the wound but not falling. Quentin looked for the rings covering his fingers, his big advantage according to Razia.


    ¡°Big talk, Quintius,¡± he said, rolling his neck around his shoulders until it cracked, ¡°from someone who had to bring his entire gang to even stand a chance. You think this is going to make a difference? If I¡¯m going to die I¡¯m taking you with me!¡±


    He launched himself at Quentin, and immediately two bolts stuck out of his chest, arresting his momentum. His dark, beady eyes squinted in pain as he looked down. He bellowed in rage in time for another couple of Shades to fire upon him. And again. He took a step back, shielding his face. And then, just like that, he disappeared from sight.


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    ¡°What the hell?¡± Jonas looked around. ¡°Where did he go?¡±


    Quentin got his answer. He heard the hard, heavy footstep before Christophe¡¯s fist smashed into his face and sent him sprawling. Coming back into view, Christophe followed through, landing on top of Quentin. Four or five hundred pounds of hateful Warlord crashing on top of him hurt worse than the fist, the ends of the bolts stabbing into his own flesh. Then Christophe¡¯s hands closed around his throat and squeezed, and Quentin¡¯s work turned dark.


    ¡°Get him!¡±


    The Shades wasted no time in attacking, the closest of them firing more bolts into Christophe¡¯s back, peppering him with what looked like tiny twigs when spread across his vast bulk. Jonas stabbed forward with a spear, the metal tip biting into flesh and encountering resistance. Quentin grabbed at Christophe¡¯s wrists, trying to pull them away but they were like iron around his throat. Eventually the giant roared and got off, swinging one massive hand back and knocking Jonas down to the ground.


    Quentin gasped for air, spots in his vision blinking black and clear. He scrambled to his feet, picking his ax up and swinging it into the giant¡¯s back. The blade cut through cloth but bounced off Christophe¡¯s skin. The giant whirled around, swinging wildly as more and more Shades surrounded him and attacked.


    They worked as one, striking as another withdrew, dancing in and out as their prey failed to get a good hit in. He panted, eyes wild and full of something Quentin had waited weeks to see: fear. Christophe had no gang to help him, no Shaper friend to bail him out of trouble. Just him versus twenty pissed off gladiators with a hunger for vengeance.


    ¡°You!¡± Christophe slapped away a spear, whirling around on Quentin. ¡°You think you¡¯ve won?¡± He swung at Quentin, who just ducked back out of the way. His strikes were slowing down by the second, and Quentin had always been a defensive fighter. So he just smiled at Christophe, stepping backwards as another spear was driven into his back. This time whatever enchantment Christophe had failed and the weapon parted flesh.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come after Razia,¡± said Quentin, hefting his ax up. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have gotten our friend Demetrius killed, or come up north and killed our friends! You started this, we¡¯re finishing it!¡±


    He raised his weapon high. Once again, fear glittered in Christophe¡¯s dark eyes, just for a second. He swung wide again, just as Quentin hoped. He swung the ax right into Christophe¡¯s extended hand, lopping off three of his fingers. The fingers and his rings clattered to the ground.


    All at once, dozens of wounds poured blood. Christophe clutched his mangled hand, wide eyed and mouth forming a silent O. Quentin held up his fist again and the attacks stopped. All those bolts, just little mosquito bites at first, now added up to something the giant couldn¡¯t take with his magic rings removed. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. Blood pooled from his lips as well as he looked at Quentin with a mixture of fear and hate.


    ¡°You¡­¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Me,¡± said Quentin. He swung his ax. Once, twice, three times it took to part Christophe¡¯s head from his body. Said body collapsed into the dirt, blood staining the sandy streets and forming a thick, dark pool. Quentin grabbed the head by its greasy hair and lifted it up.


    His Shades screamed in triumph, raising their weapons and waking everyone within a mile radius. Christophe was, finally, dead.


    ¡°The hell is this?¡± the Watchman asked as Quentin approached him alone. His weapons were gone, sent away with the other Shades. Doing this alone might¡¯ve ended with him in the Colosseum, but he trusted Omar and he trusted the need for an end to the violence. The Northeast Watchtower was, thankfully, on the opposite end of North Orchrisus from Inspector Irwin and his grudge.


    ¡°A bounty I¡¯m turning in,¡± said Quentin, lifting the head up. It dangled from dirty black hair, swinging around in a circle. Blood dripped from the stump.


    The two Watchmen¡¯s hands immediately went to their weapons. A month of street wars no doubt made them itchy to do something, anything they could. Quentin just sighed and jiggled Christophe¡¯s head. ¡°I came here unarmed and I have a bounty to turn in. And if you help speed this along, maybe I¡¯ll share some of the love with you.¡±


    One of them hesitated. ¡°How much love?¡±


    After that, they led him in straight to the Tower¡¯s gold badged officer. Inspector Klaus was a burly, grizzled Finskovite with a number of awards on his desk. Thinking of Razia, Quentin dropped the head on the desk next to those awards, biting back a smile.


    ¡°Christophe, leader of the Warlords,¡± said Quentin. ¡°Responsible for an assault on the Boulevard of Saint Trassius and the murder of several politicians. I believe dead or alive were the terms of the reward.¡±


    Inspector Klaus looked at the head, nose wrinkling in disgust. He eyed Quentin, frowning. ¡°So you¡¯re the one I was warned about.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± said Quentin. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m not here to cause trouble or make things worse. We want the same thing, Inspector.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± he said, baring his teeth.


    ¡°We want peace and prosperity and an end to pointless fighting,¡± Quentin continued. ¡°We want the scum from the south to stay where they belong and trouble someone else, and we want the idiots up here in the north to stop trying to fight over every last scrap of meat they can get.¡±


    ¡°You say that, Quintius,¡± Inspector Klaus said, ¡°and yet you¡¯ve been doing the same. Do you think we haven¡¯t been watching you? We¡¯ve seen the damage you¡¯ve done and the people you lead. What makes you think you¡¯re any better than them?¡±


    Quentin shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s called harm reduction, Inspector,¡± he said, unable to stop himself from smiling. ¡°There¡¯s always going to be violence in Orchrisus. If we keep a lid on it, we can keep it limited to those who deserve it and use our best efforts to keep everyone else safe. The sooner the fighting stops, the sooner I can spend my evenings getting drunk with the girls. You ought to come by sometime, Inspector. I promise a once in a lifetime experience.¡±


    Klaus growled at him.


    ¡°Oh well. I believe you owe me five hundred aquilos, last I checked.¡±


    Four hundred aquilos richer, Quentin made his way home right as the sun rose over the horizon and the first fiery rays bathed Orchrisus in their glow. It was a beautiful sight, for the ten minutes or so Quentin could enjoy it before it blinded him. He made his way back to the Garden mostly by feel, catching up with Jonas a few blocks away.


    ¡°No trouble?¡± Jonas asked as he fell in step with Quentin, subtly guiding him and keeping the rest of the street away.


    ¡°Oh, a tiny bit of trouble but nothing I couldn¡¯t deal with,¡± Quentin answered, clasping Jonas on the shoulder. ¡°Any trouble on your end?¡±


    ¡°Not even a little. She tried to talk her way out of it and begged a little, but I think she knew there was no getting out of it. We brought her to the Garden as you asked. She¡¯s in Samantha and Lynne¡¯s room, with Roscoe inside with her. He¡¯s sober,¡± Jonas added, ¡°for now. He¡¯s not happy about missing the action, but he knows he¡¯s got an important job.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Quentin said. ¡°And the girls and guys? Are they awake?¡±


    ¡°Kind of hard to sleep through that many people coming in and out. And when we dragged Kelli in, kicking and not quite screaming, they started talking. Well, Isa started talking.¡±


    Quentin chuckled. ¡°She held out as long as she could and I¡¯m proud of her for not murdering her just yet.¡±


    Sure enough, the Garden was awake and full of life. Lynne, Lucy, Isa, Jenna, and Razia were there. Samantha conspicuously wasn¡¯t, and probably for the best. Her sense of forgiveness and gentle nature had no place today. All along the rest of the walls were the other Shades, some still dressed for battle.


    Razia joined Quentin in the doorway. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± he said, pulling her close. Ever since Razia took that nasty cut to her neck, she¡¯d been more subdued, less outwardly chaotic and gleeful about everything going on. Hopefully this would go a long way towards getting her back to her normal shit stirring self. ¡°Christophe is dead, we¡¯ve got more money, and now¡­¡±


    ¡°Now we deal with Kelli,¡± Razia finished, sighing. ¡°Finally. What happened to Samantha is¡­¡±


    ¡°Kelli¡¯s fault,¡± Quentin interrupted. It would only help so much, he knew, but Samantha still lived and soon the problem would be dealt with.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Razia leaned into him and he just held her for a minute, luxuriating in the feel of her body against his. Nothing like the awkwardness or yearning from before, just two people who cared about each other, comforting and caring for the other. Quentin didn¡¯t want to pull away, but in the end he had to. He kissed the top of her head and turned to the room, clearing his throat.


    ¡°Bring out the prisoner,¡± he called.


    A few seconds later, Roscoe dragged Kelli out and threw her in the space between the couches, in front of the statue now permanently gazing skyward. Seeing so many people in one place, she had to know what was coming. She flinched, getting to her feet and keeping her eyes down.


    Razia looked to Quentin, who nodded. She stepped forward, somehow seeming bigger than Kelli despite the traitor having several inches on her. ¡°We know who you are, Kelli,¡± she began. ¡°And we know what you¡¯ve done. What you¡¯ve made happen here.¡±


    Kelli froze. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she said. ¡°We talked about this. I kept an eye out for Cicero, and told him -- ¡°


    ¡°Then why did you stick around after Cicero died?¡± Razia demanded, to the murmured agreements of some of the other girls. Jenna¡¯s face held disbelief and pain. Quentin hated how much this would hurt her. ¡°Everyone else loyal to Cicero went to ground or started teaming up with others to get as much as they could. You stayed here, except for when you went to report in to Piro.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± Kelli insisted, but a quick look around revealed no one believed her. Her face fell.


    ¡°How could you?¡± Jenna said, standing up and moving closer. Her hands balled into fists, she looked ready to cry or throw punches or both. ¡°Was anything you said true? ANYTHING?¡±


    The crowd whispered and murmured. Some of the other girls, like Lucy, didn¡¯t seem comfortable with the happenings. Isa, on the other hand, looked downright predatory, like she could kill Kelli with a glare if she tried hard enough. Lynne, for once, looked to be on the same page.


    ¡°You stand accused of spying, letting in the men who killed Demetrius and kidnapped me, and poisoning Samantha in your attempts to kill Quentin. Do you deny any of this?¡±


    Her face oscillated between several emotions before she ended with a sneer. ¡°...no, I deny nothing. You want the truth? Fine. I was a fucking spy. Piro and Christophe paid me to be among you and listen to your petty, shitty problems and try to make friends with you disgusting whores to try to find a weakness. And for what?


    ¡°This has been the worst job I¡¯ve ever done. It¡¯s been torture. I¡¯m glad it¡¯s over. You killed Christophe, I hear? Good. Maybe now I can just fucking skip town and be done with this shithole of a city. I know you people. Mr. Q, the softhearted,¡± she scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re not going to do a godsdamned thing to me, so you might as well let me out.¡±


    Everyone turned to Quentin. He shook his head at Kelli sadly. ¡°You¡¯re right, Kelli. I¡¯m not going to do a thing to you. I don¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kelli blinked.


    Isa stood up, pulling out a long, thin knife she¡¯d been concealing. All around the room, Shades pulled out knives and handed them to the other girls. Razia took one, as did Lynne and even Lucy, though she hesitated. Finally, Jenna did as well. Tears poured down her face as she looked at Kelli with anguish in her eyes.


    ¡°Whoa, you can¡¯t be serious,¡± said Kelli, a hint of doubt entering her voice. ¡°You¡¯re all a bunch of self righteous goodies. There¡¯s no way you¡¯ll¡­Stop, Quentin, help me!¡± She looked over to Quentin in desperation.


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°You almost killed Samantha. You did get Demetrius killed. There¡¯s nobody in the world who could save you now.¡±


    As one, the girls closed in on her. Kelli backed away from Isa, right into Lucy¡¯s path. The young woman hesitated, then slashed with her knife. The blade cut through Kelli¡¯s dress, into her back, drawing a line of red and a breathless scream from Kelli herself. She jerked away, only to find herself face to face with Jenna.


    ¡°Traitor!¡± Jenna hissed and slashed. Kelli raised her arms to defend her face. Another long, deeper cut in her flesh.


    The rest of the circle closed in. Kelli¡¯s head darted around wildly, tears in her eyes. Quentin could practically smell her fear from here, the fear of a cornered animal who knows it isn¡¯t getting out of it alive. Isa grabbed Kelli by the hair and drew her blade against her cheek. She screamed and thrashed but Isa¡¯s grip held. Lynne collapsed on her, stabbing her in the stomach, followed by Razia and the rest.


    Kelli¡¯s screams tapered off to a gasp as the women went to work, getting their hands dirty for the first time. As far as Quentin was concerned, she did it to herself. Actions had consequences, and Kelli had a hell of a debt to pay. In some ways, it was a relief Quentin didn¡¯t have to do it himself. Once the other girls knew about it and Isa suggested it¡­Well, only Lucy seemed hesitant, but she didn¡¯t hold back now.


    They cleared away, and Kelli lay dead in the middle of an expensive plush rug. At least it would help with the disposal. The girls backed away, panting and covered up to their arms in blood. Lucy broke down crying, as did Jenna. The two dropped their weapons and hugged. Quentin promised himself he¡¯d check in with them later, if Razia and the rest didn¡¯t.


    Razia herself and Isa looked to have no qualms with killing the girl. Isa in particular wore a satisfied smile, and even spit on Kelli¡¯s corpse before heading for the bathroom, presumably to clean up. Lynne collapsed just off the rug, breathing hard and staring off into space. She deserved it more than just about anyone, other than Samantha herself.


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave them to it,¡± Quentin said to Jonas.


    ¡°We did it,¡± said Jonas, clasping Quentin¡¯s forearm. ¡°We avenged Demetrius.¡±


    Quentin smiled. ¡°That we did.¡±


    There were still plenty of problems and disasters bound to come their way, but in this at least, they could be satisfied and proud.

 Chapter 112: Grief and Retribution

    Christophe¡¯s corpse looked so much smaller than he¡¯d been. That might¡¯ve been because it was missing his head, but the bloat from the river should¡¯ve made it seem bigger. Of course, nothing could be as big or imposing as Christophe¡¯s darkly menacing presence. Something even Piro occasionally dreaded when his best friend had reason to be angry with him. Most of the time he had a good reason for it. Now he¡¯d never be mad at Piro again.


    ¡°...demands that we respond to this, as soon as possible. We¡¯ve taken too many losses recently, and I fear the loss of Christophe will invite the others to come after us,¡± said Byrne, standing a healthy distance from the body. It already stank and dripped all over the floor.


    ¡°Bad enough they killed him, did they really have to throw him in the river?¡± Piro groaned, taking a step closer, holding his nose closed. ¡°That¡¯s just disrespectful. That¡¯s adding insult to injury. This is personal.¡±


    Byrne stared at him for a few seconds before he regained his composure. ¡°Sir? Did you hear anything I¡¯ve said?¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah, gang war and our control collapsing if I don¡¯t do something about it,¡± Piro sighed, waving him off.


    A day passed without Christophe reporting in. Then came the caught body down by the docks south of the city, where the great river met the ocean and fisherman and scavengers cast their nets for all the city¡¯s leavings. Eventually the body made its way back home after shards passed hands a few times and some of their boys pulled the bloated corpse along in a cart.


    ¡°We need to act quickly, sir. If we don¡¯t, things could get very ugly for us. We might even consider making an exit from the city, cutting our losses and taking whatever we can with us.¡±


    Piro turned slowly to face Byrne, an inscrutable expression on his face. Byrne stayed neutral, meeting Piro¡¯s eyes without flinching or looking away. The shaper respected that, even as he considered lighting him on fire. Byrne could burn, wouldn¡¯t that be something? Piro almost laughed, but nothing came out.


    ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere, Byrne. Well, you can. It might piss me off and I¡¯m in something of a mood right now, but if you feel it¡¯s what¡¯s best¡­Good luck!¡± He flashed teeth in a mockery of a smile. ¡°But this is my home and I¡¯m not going anywhere. This is my city. They took my best friend from me and my best lover and now they¡¯re going to keep taking until they get everything that¡¯s mine. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll let them, Byrne. And I think it would be a lot easier with your help.¡±


    Byrne nodded, a sharp, short jerk of his head. ¡°You¡¯ll have it, sir. It will take a lot of work and we¡¯ll need to be smart about it, but I¡¯m confident that together we can -- ¡°


    ¡°Together?¡± Piro snapped. ¡°Together? You work for me. We do not work together. Christophe and I worked together, and you are not replacing him.¡±


    His mask cracked. ¡°No no sir,¡± he said, holding up his hands in surrender. ¡°I only meant that I will need to work harder and have more authority if I¡¯m to pick up some of the slack left from Christophe¡¯s loss. I cannot and will not replace him. It would take multiple of me to even come close.¡±


    ¡°Was that a fat joke!?¡± Flames erupted from Piro¡¯s hands, flickering violently. He took a step towards Byrne, who backed up. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.


    ¡°N-no sir, it¡¯s a compliment to how good a leader he was, I swear!¡±


    The flames went out. Taking a long, deep breath Piro adjusted his tunic. ¡°I believe you. It¡¯s not you I¡¯m mad at. Go make some plans. We¡¯ll discuss them later. For now? You don¡¯t want to be around me.¡± Piro smiled.


    Byrne nodded, half bowing, before he got the hell out of there and left Piro alone with the remnants of his best friend. Piro took a deep breath, accepting the awful fucking smell as part of the cost of saying goodbye.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they disrespected you like this,¡± he said. The only reply was the call of the birds overhead, circling and considering the meal below. ¡°Back when we thought you killed Quintius, we left the body for them to do what they wanted with. It¡¯s only right, you know? But here they took your head and dumped you over the bridge. I¡­I¡¯m going to do far worse to them than that.¡±


    He laughed breathlessly, body wracked with pent up sobs. Tears filled his eyes and streamed down his face, but the laughter didn¡¯t stop. If he stopped then everything else could come rushing in. All of this, and Piro couldn¡¯t help but think of who exactly to blame.


    Fucking Quintius, and his foolish insistence on getting in the way of him and Razia. For that matter, Razia herself had plenty of blame herself. Piro found himself wondering if she was worth pursuing after this, or whether he should maybe consider lumping her in with her cursed boyfriend and just finish the two of them off. Gods, that sounded appealing right about then.


    Anything would be better at looking at a lump of flesh and bone that used to be a person capable of commanding hundreds.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, brother,¡± Piro whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll get them for this. You have my word. Quintius will die, and Razia¡­If she lives, then I¡¯ll make sure she regrets her part in this. I¡¯ll break her down to the absolute bare fucking minimum a person can be and keep her as a pet. Maybe I¡¯ll burn your name into her skin so she can never forget. Or maybe, just for you, I will kill her. Maybe.¡±


    Gods, how depressing could this get. One of the gulls landed on the corpse. It darted forward, beak snapping over a bit of soft, rotting flesh around the neck. Piro lifted a hand and pushed hard with his power. Flames bathed the gull and the body. He kept it up, channeling more and more magic at a slow, steady pace to keep the burn going, slowly moving his hand left and right to torch the entire thing.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    It wasn¡¯t better, burning the remains like this. No service, no audience, no nothing but two close friends saying their goodbyes. Sort of. The best Piro could say was that it stopped the birds and bugs from eating him, and it¡¯d keep Christophe from stinking and rotting. It took several minutes and nearly drained Piro dry, but eventually a pile of char was all that remained. Another light effort and the wind carried ash and leftover chunks of bone off the cart and back into the river.


    ¡°Good luck, my friend. May you spit in the Darkstar¡¯s face before you face atonement.¡± He bowed his head and sent a silent, wordless prayer. Then he got to work.


    The trick, Piro decided, lay in choosing what to focus on. The Warlords weren¡¯t finished, but they were beaten for now. Nearly half their men gone over the past month, their field leader dead, and chaos throughout the city all sent a clear message to Piro. His future didn¡¯t involve gangs. At least not to the same extent his past did. Razia and her pet attack dog proved more capable than expected. More and more Piro regretted humiliating her and driving her away. If she hadn¡¯t, the entire south would¡¯ve been his.


    Oh well. Onwards and upwards. Piro made a few stops in to the remaining safe houses and taverns where the remaining half of his men still spent their time. After a series of bald faced lies and reassurances, the Warlords would spread the word: buckle down and hold what you¡¯ve got until recruitment could go up. Maybe their rivals would close in, maybe they wouldn¡¯t. It didn¡¯t matter anymore.


    The rest of the day he killed time, running from fire to fire and putting it out before the sun set and he collapsed in the back room of his rundown tavern, the Belly of the Beast. It had been Christophe¡¯s, and named for him. Now¡­Well, Piro wouldn¡¯t change it. Let it be one last tribute to the angry beast of south Orchrisus.


    He took his meal alone for a change, drinking glass after glass of wine, thoughts consumed with his loss and the events leading up to it. A few glasses eventually ended up the whole bottle; a lot of wine for such a small body. Piro welcomed the drunkness, and the freedom that came with it. Rage, pain, sadness, and an irresistible urge to get something done.


    He knew it to be a stupid move, but still Piro found himself heading north on unsteady legs, ready to go nuts on the first person to give him trouble. The late spring night had a cool breeze, but the world burned around Piro, choking and stifling him. He made it all the way across the bridge without any issues, rambling to himself the entire time.


    The Watch were out in force now that the danger was over, of course. The useless fuckers weren¡¯t much of a help to anyone, and only ever seemed there to hurt others and act like things were under control. Truth was, the only control in a city like Orchrisus lay in the movers and shakers establishing it. Their little war had destabilized it, but he supposed it over now, technically. Of course the Watch would take this opportunity to act like they¡¯d been there all along.


    ¡°Evening there, Offiff..Ofiss¡­Copper!¡± Piro giggled, bowing deeply at the unimpressed young man watching the bridge.


    ¡°Somebody¡¯s been celebrating,¡± one of the other coppers muttered under their breath.


    Piro jabbed a finger in their general direction. ¡°Sort of! Mourning. Celebr¡­Celeb¡­A toast to an old friend, no longer with us.¡±


    The lead copper sighed and motioned with his hand for Piro to keep moving along. ¡°Have fun, just don¡¯t cause any problems, yeah?¡±


    Piro grinned, pale face flushed with the alcohol. ¡°Who? Me? I promise I¡¯ll only burn down a couple houses tonight. No more than that, swear to the gods.¡± He giggled and moved on, making his way to the Boulevard, where trouble would no doubt find him.


    Even drunk off his ass, the first tails were on him in minutes. Piro pretended not to notice them at first, just stumbling down the street as people made a point of ignoring and avoiding him. Too many fights and deaths left everyone uneasy around any possible disturbance. He used it to his advantage, keeping people between him and his pursuers. No doubt they¡¯d love this chance to kill him. Well, not until he said his piece.


    A chill settled in his veins as he turned down the right street to get to the garden. Two shades were posted out front, and they saw Piro about the same time he saw them. They looked to each other, nodded, and one ran inside. The other drew his sword and advanced on Piro, raising his weapon.


    Piro waved his hand to the side, pushing power into the motion. Force exploded sideways, hurling the poor bastard into the wall. His sword stayed in place, clattering to the ground. He groaned but didn¡¯t get up. Oops, must¡¯ve put too much power into it.


    ¡°Quentin Quintius!¡± Piro shouted, voice almost cracking partway through it. ¡°Get your beautiful pale ass out here, we¡¯ve got some things to discuss!¡±


    He didn¡¯t have to wait long. The moonkissed bastard came out, dressed in a black and gold toga, with the outline of lips against his cheek. He furrowed his brow deeply, scowling at Piro. Well fuck you too buddy, Piro thought. Two could play that game. He pointed at Quentin and growled, ¡°You¡¯re a dead man!¡±


    Quentin sniffed the air and made a face. ¡°Is that why you came here? You want to finish this?¡± His hand went to the knife at his belt but he didn¡¯t draw it. A few more faces peeked out of the door behind him, including the traitorous bitch herself.


    ¡°No!¡± Piro blurted. ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill you tonight, Quintius. That¡¯d be too easy.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± Quentin said, lips twitching in a facsimile of a smile. ¡°You can¡¯t even stand up straight. What do you think you¡¯re going to accomplish here?¡±


    ¡°A warning,¡± Piro said, wobbling in place. Gods, he wished he had more wine. He made a show of looking at the outside of the villa and up down. ¡°It¡¯s a nice place you¡¯ve got here, Quintius. How long do you think it¡¯d take me to destroy it?¡±


    He sighed, covering his face with his hand. ¡°You¡¯re drunk, Piro. If you want to have a fair fight where we kill each other like civilized men, come back later.¡±


    Razia slipped out behind him, keeping Quentin between them. ¡°Just kill him now, Quentin. You don¡¯t want to let him go if he¡¯s dumb enough to come here alone.¡±


    Piro threw his head back and laughed. ¡°Do you think you could? You think some lucky meathead can compare to the power I have at my command? I could crush you in an instant! But I didn¡¯t come here for that!¡± What was he saying again? Right. ¡°A warning. I¡¯m going to break you, Quentin Quintius. I¡¯m going to take everything you love and hurt you as bad as I can. And by the end, you¡¯ll be begging me to kill you!¡±


    Quentin¡¯s jaw set. ¡°Is that all? Why even come here to tell me what you¡¯re going to do instead of just trying to kill me right here? I don¡¯t get you, but I¡¯m about out of tolerance for threats towards me or mine. Why don¡¯t you go home while I still let you?¡±


    ¡°Quentin!¡± Razia nudged him. He shook his head pityingly.


    In that moment, Piro hated him more than he hated anyone else. He looked past Quentin to Razia. ¡°You still have a chance to spare his life. Come back with me. Right now. Christophe is dead, so you get your way. That¡¯s compromise, right? Neither of us is happy, but we get a little of what I want.¡±


    Razia bared her teeth at him. ¡°I want you dead. Can you make that happen?¡±


    A sound behind Piro reminded him they weren¡¯t alone and he was surrounded. He smiled and held his hands up. ¡°I get it. Too many lovers, right? I¡¯ll fix that.¡±


    Opening himself up to magic when drunk felt great. Better than great, amazing. Nothing could compare with the rush of pure power flowing through his body, channeled by his will to change the world. Unfortunately, even at the best of times his control could be iffy. He poured too much into the spell and a jet of flames emerged from his hands and bathed Quintius in their overwhelming heat. The moonkissed had enough time to shield Razia with his body before the flames engulfed him.


    Piro laughed, pouring more power into the flames until somebody crashed into him from behind, sending them to the ground. Piro landed hard, tasting blood as he bit his lip. He wriggled and writhed but his attacker had a good grip on him. No matter. He flexed power and threw the man off with magical force. He climbed to his feet.


    Several other Shades made to move at him but stopped when he held his hands up. Quentin remained on fire, panic in his eyes as he slapped at his arms and chest, somehow managing not to scream until -- oh, there it was, he cried out in pain. The sound was the greatest music Piro had ever heard. ¡°Heal up and we¡¯ll settle this later,¡± he cried.


    Then he focused his energy beneath his feet and threw himself into the air. Piro couldn¡¯t fly, but he didn¡¯t have to. He landed on the roof of the building across the street from the Moonlit Garden and took off running, adrenaline cutting through his inebriation just enough to push him to run home. When he got to the edge he pushed again and leapt forward twenty feet to the next rooftop. He hit the ground running.


    No one followed. They couldn¡¯t. The way Piro saw it, either the rumors were true about Quentin¡¯s immortality or he hurt him bad. He hoped the fucker survived, just so he could take it all from him. He laughed, an unhinged sound piercing the night. He had such plans, and more than ever he needed to see them through.


    This didn¡¯t call for a Warlord, or a mad shaper. He¡¯d break him out in the open and use the entire city to do it. Piro launched himself into the air, laughing like a fool.

 Chapter 113: A Taste of Satisfaction

    Somebody screamed as Quentin flailed around on fire. Isa watched with growing horror as other gladiators surrounded him and patted the fire away. His toga smoldered, breaking off of him in chunks where it didn¡¯t cling to burnt flesh. Quentin stood there, moaning in pain and panting for breath, held up by his friends.


    ¡°Holy shit this hurts,¡± he groaned, shuddering. The smell coming off of him was disturbingly appetizing.


    Isa turned away, wrinkling her nose. ¡°So do something about it,¡± she barked, to the scattered laughter of some of the gladiators. ¡°You¡¯re ruining the party.¡± Razia shot her a look, but Isa just smiled sweetly at her.


    A second later, a strangled cry pierced the night before cutting off. When Isa looked back over to Quentin, his too pale skin looked fresh and pinker than normal, with blackened skin hanging off him. ¡°This better?¡± he shot back.


    She kept her eyes above his neck. ¡°Mildly.¡± Her expression softened. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Quentin rolled his neck around, wincing. He clutched at his stomach. ¡°I will be. Think he¡¯s coming back?¡±


    Razia came up to his side, tentatively hugging him. ¡°Probably not. He likes making big dramatic gestures and then running off. I don¡¯t know what he plans on doing, but we won¡¯t see him again tonight. Or probably a few days. I intend to make use of that and celebrate. How about all of you?¡±


    Everyone visibly relaxed. ¡°I won¡¯t say no to a night¡¯s break,¡± said Pete, leaning against the front of the building. ¡°We¡¯ve been working hard and we¡¯ve won.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go get fucked up,¡± Jonas crowed. He got some cheers and the Shades went inside, Quentin, Razia, and Isa out on their own.


    ¡°Seriously, how badly does that hurt?¡± Isa asked, moving a little closer. She thought about reaching out to touch the freshly healed skin and thought better of it. It would only make Razia more smug, and Isa had enough of her shit lately.


    ¡°Each time I heal it feels like I¡¯m getting hurt all over again,¡± said Quentin. ¡°It¡¯s like I feel all the pain at once and then it¡¯s gone, but it kind of lingers in my head. Like I should be feeling more pain and so I almost do. Like a really intense memory. Mostly, it makes me hungry.¡±


    Razia laughed and buried her face into his chest. ¡°Let¡¯s get you some food then. You deserve a nice rest and some fun.¡±


    And then they went inside, leaving Isa on her own. A previously unknown knife twisted inside her. Jealousy¡­Isa never thought she¡¯d be the jealous type, but how could she not be? Not of Razia, that would be silly. She wanted what they had, what felt completely out of reach for her. Not either of them themselves, but that personal satisfaction.


    It wasn¡¯t fair.


    Briefly, she thought about heading to her room and just sulking for the rest of the night. It would mean not having to pretend to be in a good mood or worrying about offending someone with her bitterness, but¡­Ramali didn¡¯t hide. If she had to put on her bitch face and just schmooze around the party, she would do just that.


    Inside, the party thrived. After killing Christophe and that bitch Kelli, how could they not immediately celebrate? Even Isa¡¯s paranoid ass couldn¡¯t resist a much needed party and victory. They pulled out all the stops, hiring a band and buying a huge spread of food from some of the rebuilt food vendors on the Boulevard. Anything to buy some good will and help with the repair of their new territory.


    The house had never been so full, with most of the remaining shades, all of their workers and a great number of new additions to the inns nearby all dancing and laughing. All of them were having fun. Isa moved past them, heading straight for the food. She stopped when she spotted Lucy just around the corner in the bathroom, alone.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing in here?¡± Isa asked, looking around. ¡°And how have those horny bastards not started another orgy in the tub?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still early,¡± Lucy answered with a snicker. She shrugged, waving a bottle of wine around. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­It¡¯s loud and I have a bit of a headache. I might skip out and stay next door for the evening.¡±


    Memories of the auction assaulted her. Isa sneered, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth. ¡°What, one night with the two of them and they¡¯re making you a permanent fixture? Big leap from never having to fuck him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lucy made a face, ¡°No. Nothing like that. Why would you say that? Is that why you¡¯ve been avoiding me?¡±


    Isa froze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, sighing and staring at the ground. ¡°You didn¡¯t deserve that.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Lucy, taking a drink, ¡°I didn¡¯t. What¡¯s on your mind? Not like you don¡¯t bite peoples¡¯ heads off, but usually not me. What¡¯s bothering you?¡±


    What a question. Isa opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she finally said, lying through her teeth. ¡°Just all the stress of everything happening lately. They think it¡¯s over now, or at least for a little while, but I know better. It¡¯s never over, especially not with how many enemies we have and potential predators and scavengers trying to get a piece of us. Partying won¡¯t make any of that less real.¡±


    Lucy shrugged. ¡°No, but having one night where we don¡¯t have to think about it could make things easier, right? We don¡¯t need to stress about it every waking moment, do we? Look, I¡¯m going to be honest with you. I don¡¯t feel great about¡­what we did. To Kelli. She deserved to die, but I¡­¡± The hand holding the bottle shook. With a groan, Lucy slid down the wall until she sat on the ground.


    Isa joined her there. ¡°I offered to do it myself,¡± she admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t feel bad for it. That bitch nearly got Samantha killed. If she had succeeded, I would¡¯ve killed her before that. But we needed her for the plan, and she played her part well enough. May the Darkstar piss on her.¡±


    ¡°I get that,¡± Lucy sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­killing her wasn¡¯t wrong, but I shouldn¡¯t have done it. I should¡¯ve let you do it. But I felt like if I didn¡¯t do it, it wouldn¡¯t have been¡­unified, I guess. I felt like I had to. I didn¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you want to go hide in Quentin¡¯s house,¡± Isa said, understanding now. Lucy nodded, not looking at her.


    Isa said nothing, but took the bottle from Lucy. She took a drink and thought about it. What did it say about her that she felt nothing but satisfaction at killing Kelli? The fear in her eyes as they threw her to the ground and perforated her made Isa happy. It wasn¡¯t just hate for an annoying pest. Betrayal hit harder than that. A part of her wished Kelli could come back just to stab her all over again. Maybe that meant something bad about Isa, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to care.


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    The sound of the party came through dim with a wall between them, and there was a comfort in that. Music and laughter, just on the edge of hearing while Isa and Lucy enjoyed a moment of solitude and companionship. Of course Isa had to ruin it.


    ¡°What was it like? After the auction.¡±


    Lucy looked at her curiously. ¡°I really appreciate you trying to look out for me, but it wasn¡¯t bad. It was good. Not like dealing with clients at all. I didn¡¯t feel forced or disrespected or like a platter of meat. I¡¯d probably do it again if they wanted, but I don¡¯t think they really mean to. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°No reason,¡± said Isa. She climbed to her feet. ¡°If you want to hide out, go for it. Just take a plate of food with you first. No sense in letting it go to waste.¡±


    Lucy smiled at her, waving her off as she took another drink. Isa returned to the party.


    The sound of stringed instruments beckoned Isa. As uptight as she knew she could be, music was a special joy. All the couches had been moved elsewhere and now people danced there. She drifted over to the center of it, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Isa abandoned herself to the sound of the drums and horns transforming the Garden from a place of lascivious delights to something more communal and playful.


    And it worked. To her relief and surprise, just moving to the music and bumping up against the other girls felt good. Dancing with everyone and no one, just allowing herself to be one of the night flowers of the Moonlit Garden, beautiful and powerful and safe with friends. They won and all they had to worry about now was picking up the pieces and expanding, growing stronger. She¡¯d almost managed to put the future out of her mind when Jonas began dancing with her.


    The young gladiator was honestly beautiful. His lean, wiry frame held his muscles well and she really did like looking upon his sharp, angular features. They somehow managed to be welcoming instead of harsh. He looked good, but the way he looked at Isa bothered her. He liked her too much, and his desire shone like a beacon. Jonas wanted more than she had to offer.


    Sighing, she allowed him to get close, even putting her arms around his shoulders and hanging off them as they twirled and moved together to the music. Isa even allowed herself a moment of indulgence, running a hand through his hair and taking a momentary pleasure from the way his eyelids fluttered shut. She may have been lonely, if Isa were honest with herself, but she could get company any time she wanted.


    There weren¡¯t any problems until Jonas decided to take it a step further. When the music changed to something slower he turned around and pressed himself back up against Isa, writhing against her and reaching over his head to cup hers and pull her closer. It¡¯s what he wanted, but she didn¡¯t. Isa pulled away.


    ¡°What?¡± Jonas asked, honestly looking hurt.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Isa. ¡°Go find Cullen or Tenchi or someone. Anyone else.¡± She moved away from the dance floor, pushing her way past anyone even mildly inconveniencing her. When she got to the other side, she froze.


    Quentin sat to the side, wearing only his underwear. The bits of blackened, charred flesh were off of him now, leaving him looking smooth and strong. For a change, he didn¡¯t seem uncomfortable or self conscious. Especially not with Razia sitting sideways in his lap, snuggled up. After a few seconds of staring he looked up. Seeing Isa, he smiled. ¡°Hey,¡± he said. ¡°You enjoying yourself?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isa growled. She stormed out to the gardens, where two people were already making out, getting hot and heavy. ¡°Take it to a fucking room,¡± she barked.


    They jumped apart, looking like two teenagers caught in the act. A closer look showed it wasn¡¯t too off the mark. They skulked off, shooting baleful glances her way. Isa went to the bench opposite theirs and collapsed in it, hugging herself. She knew she was being ridiculous, and she didn¡¯t care. This was her party too, and she¡¯d be ridiculous if she wanted to.


    ¡°Are you okay? You seem angrier than usual,¡± Quentin said, stopping a couple feet away from her.


    ¡°What happened to you always being covered up?¡± Isa demanded, not looking at him.


    ¡°What happened to ¡®I¡¯ve already seen you naked and I don¡¯t care¡¯?¡± Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cross his arms over his chest. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Isa?¡±


    Part of her thought about giving him an answer, just unloading on him. It sounded so satisfying, but¡­even she couldn¡¯t bring herself to intentionally ruin a party celebrating him living up to his end of the bargain. Isa knew she could be an angry, hateful bitch sometimes, but what people didn¡¯t know was that she was trying to be better, in spite of herself.


    Quentin sighed. He chanced getting close to her, sitting down on the corner of the bench tentatively. When she didn¡¯t say anything or move, he relaxed a little. Isa hated how aware she was of his every action. ¡°I think I know what this is about,¡± he said.


    Isa¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Razia told me. About the kiss.¡±


    That bitch. That insufferable, interfering bitch. ¡°She told me she wasn¡¯t going to say anything,¡± Isa hissed. ¡°I guess I should¡¯ve known better than to believe a liar. Bet you had a good laugh when you found out, huh?¡±


    Quentin shook his head vehemently. ¡°Not at all. I¡¯ve never laughed at you. Not sure I could. Partially because I¡¯m afraid you¡¯d kick my ass.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me!¡± Isa snapped. ¡°We both know there isn¡¯t anything I could do to you that would make a difference.¡±


    ¡°Do you think me that invincible?¡± Quentin asked. ¡°Or that I¡¯m unaffected by what you think and feel of me?¡±


    Isa turned to him, glaring daggers at him. ¡°You going to try to tell me that you care what I think? If you did, you wouldn¡¯t have stuck around after I told you at the beginning to fuck off and leave us all alone.¡±


    Quentin smiled, and Isa hated how much she liked the dumb look on his face when he did. ¡°You mean when you were the only sane person looking out for your group of friends? I respected you then, I respect you now. You¡¯re¡­Not an easy person to like, Isa, but you care. And given how you talk to everyone, it''s hard to take it personally.¡±


    ¡°So what, how I am is a joke to you?¡± Isa stood up and went to the gate. One of the courtyard guards who had been peeking in jumped and moved away.


    ¡°You¡¯re never a joke to me, Isa,¡± Quentin said, voice as soft and even as ever. ¡°Is that what you¡¯re worried about? That I would find this funny? I don¡¯t. Mostly¡­I¡¯m curious.¡±


    Her heart quickened. ¡°Curious?¡± she said, whirling around. ¡°Curious about what, exactly?¡±


    Quentin shrugged, looking away. ¡°I get that Razia cares for me, and even almost understand why. She¡¯s never been shy about saying what she thinks or feels. But you? I guess I¡¯m curious what you want from me. And why¡­why me?¡±


    The questions pierced Isa, tightening her throat and making her mouth dry up. The worst part about those questions was that she thought of them constantly and hated how hard she found them to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t want anything from you,¡± she said. ¡°Not a damned thing. Why can¡¯t you and Razia understand that? It was a moment of madness, with you lying there dead and looking extra pathetic. Is that really so hard to understand?¡±


    Quentin took a step forward. Isa took one back. He cocked his head to the side, an infuriating smile on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not as smart as you or Razia, but I¡¯m not stupid either. I notice things. I think you did hate me at first, but something changed. I just want to know what. I think I deserve that at least.¡±


    Isa took a long, deep breath and let it out, deflating. The worst part was she couldn¡¯t argue with him. ¡°Fine. You want to know why? You¡¯re a clumsy, blundering fool, but no matter how hard I try I can¡¯t seem to find any real issues with you. Isn¡¯t that stupid? You don¡¯t think things through but you¡¯re not a bad man, even though you could be. You could be the worst, but you¡¯re quiet and kind and you actually care and I hate it.


    ¡°I hate being wrong, and here we are. I hate you because I can¡¯t hate you. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?¡±


    Quentin chuckled. He took another step forward and Isa backed up against the metal gate. She couldn¡¯t go any further, couldn¡¯t escape. He closed in until he stood close, too close for comfort. Isa craned her head up to look at his face. She swallowed hard, considering hitting him in the stomach and running, but that would be a weakness. Ramali didn¡¯t run.


    ¡°Right from the start you¡¯ve been a bit of a pain in the ass,¡± he said. ¡°Never gave me a break. I love that about you. You don¡¯t accept anything less than someone¡¯s best and you¡¯re always ready to fight, even when it¡¯s not a good idea. You¡¯re smart, beautiful, and fiery. Any man would be lucky to have you, you know.¡±


    Isa scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t need anyone,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯m better than that.¡±


    ¡°I know. You don¡¯t need anyone, but you want me, don¡¯t you? I don¡¯t know why, but¡­I¡­¡± Quentin made a sound in the back of his throat before he leaned in.


    Isa saw it coming. She could have dodged it she wanted, or maybe pushed him away, yelled at him, something. She didn¡¯t. Quentin¡¯s lips met hers, tentatively at first. Just like him it was quiet, unassuming, even gentle. Everything Isa was not. She nipped sharply at his lip, expecting him to pull away.


    He didn¡¯t. Quentin grasped her by her wrists and pinned her against the gate hard. He deepened the kiss, biting her back and making her mind go blank. When they broke apart, he panted and looked at her with those unsettling eyes and he smiled. ¡°Isn¡¯t that better?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Isa groaned, willing herself to calm down. It didn¡¯t work.


    ¡°Maybe later,¡± he said, smiling.


    ¡°What happened to being too shy for this shit?¡± Isa demanded, resolve weakening.


    Quentin shrugged, pulling her wrists down from above her head but not releasing her. His hands were like iron, and Isa doubted she could get away even if she wanted to. She didn¡¯t. ¡°A lot¡¯s changed. I¡¯ve changed. And after all of this, I don¡¯t see a reason to deny myself anything I want, so long as it¡¯s not hurting anyone who doesn¡¯t deserve it.¡±


    ¡°And you want me?¡± Isa scoffed.


    Quentin smiled. ¡°Well, if you¡¯d rather I not¡­¡± He made to pull away, laughing when Isa made a distressed noise.


    ¡°I hate you,¡± she said without venom.


    He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t hate you.¡± And then he kissed her again.


    Isa let herself surrender to it, stomach fluttering.

 Chapter 114: The Garden Grows

    ¡°This is a load of shit!¡± the ostentatiously dressed man spat. He wore a garish vest with nothing underneath and trousers that ended at his knees, with curly toed boots. His blue hair stuck up in spikes, and the two women behind him looked absolutely done with his shit. Razia couldn¡¯t blame them. Their pimp looked more like a clown than anything else.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s tough, now isn¡¯t it?¡± Isa sneered from the other side of Quentin. ¡°You had your time. It¡¯s over now. The Boulevard¡¯s ours. Don¡¯t like it, you can always take it up with your replacements.¡±


    Those replacements were Jinnis and Pete, leaning up against the wall. Jinnis wore a new eyepatch, and he saluted with two fingers to his forehead, grinning at the man. After going to several different places along the Boulevard, they only had one more stop for the day. After they dealt with this flea.


    ¡°Look,¡± said Razia, slipping into her role as the calm, peaceful voice this time. Isa won the dice roll to be the bitch for this particular in. ¡°You were given a decent offer. If you don¡¯t want to take it, we¡¯re going to do what we want anyway, only you¡¯re going to get hurt along the way. Save yourself the trouble and buy yourself something nice, yeah?¡±


    The pimp, Razia couldn¡¯t be bothered to remember his name, growled like an angry animal. Cute. ¡°You going to let your bitches speak for you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re beneath me,¡± said Quentin, shrugging. He dressed his best that day, not out for a fight. That didn¡¯t stop some people from trying. ¡°They speak with my full authority and trust.¡±


    Sure enough, the pimp threw a punch so obvious Razia could¡¯ve countered it. Quentin caught his fist and twisted. The pimp cried out, dropping to his knees. Quentin slammed his knee into his nose and let him drop to the ground. Isa stepped forward and ground her heel into his hand for good measure. Gods, it felt good to have her as part of the team.


    ¡°Aiiiieeee,¡± he cried out in pain.


    To the girls behind him, Razia beamed. ¡°Look, we both know how much of a joke this guy is. You¡¯ll have it better with us. You won¡¯t be slapped around, mistreated, or forced to do anything you don¡¯t want to do. You¡¯ll just keep on doing what you¡¯re doing, but you¡¯ll be safer and more comfortable and better paid for your troubles. Doesn¡¯t that sound nice?¡±


    One of the two, a short haired blonde with too much eye makeup, scowled. ¡°Sounds like we don¡¯t have much of a choice,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯re you saying, work for you or leave?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± said Isa, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°You don¡¯t have to work for us, but if you don¡¯t you can follow this chucklefuck off our territory to wherever he¡¯s going. You can continue to work for the scraps he gives you, under his heel. Or you could try us out and see how it goes. Seems like an easy choice to me, but what do I know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± the tall, leggy brunette said. She was pretty, and apparently smart too.


    Razia smiled. ¡°Then go talk to those two gents over there, who will be looking out for you. They¡¯re perfect gentlemen, but if things get bad, you can always come to the Garden and talk to us.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to worry about anything,¡± said Jinnis, pushing away from the wall and moving up to her. He took her hand and brought it up to his lips. ¡°I see a beautiful partnership ahead of us.¡±


    On the ground, the pimp groaned and clutched at his bleeding nose. Pete sighed and said, ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him, I guess.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, Pete,¡± Quentin grinned at him.


    ¡°Yeah yeah,¡± Pete grumbled, grabbing the pimp by the ankle and dragging him out of the building. The other patrons gave him a wide berth. He probably wouldn¡¯t hurt him any worse when they got outside. Unless he mouthed off. Razia gave it fifty/fifty odds.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave this in your capable hands,¡± said Quentin to Jinnis. Jinnis smiled and waved him off, his focus entirely on their newest hire. Quentin slipped his black spectacles on and the three of them left, arm in arm in arm.


    No doubt they made quite the sight walking down the street, but that was the point. A week after Christophe¡¯s death, there wasn¡¯t much left to clean up or improve on the Boulevard. Quentin and his girls were a common fixture these days, often stopping and talking to vendors and giving some shards to beggars who welcomed having a warm meal for a change. All of it would¡¯ve just been posturing and wealth flexing to make a point, if it had been anyone else doing it.


    ¡°Just one more stop for the day,¡± said Quentin, slowing down to drop a few qala in another young boy¡¯s empty bowl. The boy bowed his head gratefully. Then they moved on. ¡°We can handle the rest of the inns on the east side of the Boulevard tomorrow. I want to get home and get this done and relax for a bit. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you want an excuse to be lazy,¡± said Isa, snorting. ¡°And that¡¯s just fine with me. My feet are killing me.¡±


    Razia snickered. ¡°Maybe you should¡¯ve worn more sensible shoes,¡± she teased. ¡°Sandals would¡¯ve sufficed with how much walking we¡¯ve had to do today.¡±


    ¡°But then I wouldn¡¯t be able to stomp on fools as well,¡± said Isa proudly.


    ¡°She¡¯s got you there,¡± said Quentin. ¡°But for our last stop, maybe we play it nice for a change. He¡¯s not going to be happy about how things turned out, and if you piss him off too much he might not go along with it.¡±


    Razia stopped them right as they got to the turn leading to their neighborhood. ¡°You hearing this, Isa? He¡¯s telling us we can¡¯t have any fun.¡±


    ¡°Like he can stop us,¡± Isa smirked.


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    Quentin sighed good naturedly. ¡°Of course you can have fun, but maybe let¡¯s wait until the deal is complete. That is, unless you don¡¯t want Jonas to have some distance from you, Isa.¡±


    Isa winced. Jonas took Isa¡¯s new attachment as well as could be expected, but his poor heart seemed crushed by it. A bit of distance would do him good. ¡°You make a good point. I¡¯ll behave as well as I can, given who it is.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡±


    Together they went down the street, now a great deal less sleepy than before all this began. Now Shades patrolled the street, waving at them as they passed. Now girls came and went freely, even during the day before they opened. But they didn¡¯t go to the Garden. Instead, they went next door and Quentin knocked on the door. Half a minute later, it opened, and a servant let them in.


    Leonis¡¯ house had the same layout as theirs, but that¡¯s where the similarities ended. The front room, where the Garden checked weapons and put them into chests, was a simple street facing office. They followed the servant past that to where the villa opened up, looking much like the extravagant home most people in the square had.


    Tapestries covered the walls and the tiles had been carefully replaced to be mosaics of some of the more beautiful sights of the desert, like the colors of sunset above a raging river between sandy dunes. Crates littered one wall, with expensive looking silks hanging out the top of one of them. There were a few servants, but mostly Razia noticed Leonis¡¯ small family.


    Leonis himself stood there, dark beard thicker and rougher than the last time Razia had seen him, and he had bags under his eyes. His wife, or so Razia assumed, clung to his side, a thin, sharp looking woman with severely pursed lips. Then there was their daughter, a young teen who looked like a perfect mix of the two. She stared blankly at the three of them.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Leonis,¡± said Quentin evenly. There was no love lost between them, especially not after his attempts to get the Garden closed. Well, look who had the last laugh. ¡°I trust you are well.¡±


    ¡°Spare me the pleasantries, Quintius,¡± he said with a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with. Did you have to bring your women with you?¡± In particular he eyed Razia, who managed to avoid smirking at him or winking. After the incident with Brody and the knife to her neck, Razia found herself just a little more cautious.


    ¡°I did,¡± said Quentin, taking his arms back from them. ¡°They¡¯re my top advisors, and I would bring them to any business deal. Is that going to be a problem?¡±


    Leonis¡¯ eyes slid between the two of them. Razia tried not to grin and wave at him like the cheeky bitch she loved to be. It was difficult, but she managed. Finally, Leonis sighed and shook his head. ¡°I suppose not. You¡¯ve made it clear enough your whores aren¡¯t going anywhere. Come.¡± He motioned for them to follow.


    His dinner table stretched out from one side of the room to the other, no doubt to impress visitors, or maybe to stay away from his family. The chairs were on one end. Quentin grabbed one and picked it up, moving it to the center, making it clear he expected to deal with this closer. Razia followed suit, dragging the chair along the tiles and gleefully dancing inside at the horrible sound it made. Leonis winced and his face turned an interesting shade of reddish purple.


    Isa shot her a look and took Quentin¡¯s left side, while Razia sat at his right. Grunting, Leonis grabbed his own chair and sat opposite them. He wasted no time in launching right into it.


    ¡°I¡¯m not happy with you. Any of you. This neighborhood used to be a good place to live, until you brought your bitches here and trouble followed. The fact that I¡¯m even considering this makes me sick. But if it means getting the hell away from you and all your problems, I don¡¯t see that I have a choice. I¡¯m willing to sell, if you¡¯re willing to pay the full amount in shards.¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve got the shards, and I certainly don¡¯t want to see you any more than you want to see me. Frankly, trading you out for more of my men and women will be a huge step up. And for your troubles, I¡¯m willing to offer seven hundred aqulios for the house.¡±


    Leonis¡¯ nostrils flared. ¡°I paid seven fifty for it. You¡¯ll pay in full.¡±


    Quentin smiled, the one where he intentionally kept it from reaching his eyes. The look of a predator about to swat an annoying scavenger. ¡°No. It was seven fifty. But you have repeatedly insulted my women and myself. So you¡¯ll receive less for your house each time you do so.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Leonis growled. ¡°I did not agree to that.¡±


    Razia couldn¡¯t help herself. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t. But you¡¯re going to have to deal with it just the same. You¡¯re not in a position to bargain, Leonis. Maybe you should¡¯ve been nicer.¡±


    Leonis stood. ¡°I don¡¯t have to deal with this,¡± he said.


    Isa cocked her head to the side. Razia always admired how vicious she could look. ¡°Are you sure about that?¡± Isa said. ¡°We¡¯ve done our best to keep things away from you. It wouldn¡¯t be any effort at all to make some more noise, or draw even more attention to the square. You think things are bad now? Sit the fuck down.¡±


    Wordlessly, he did as he was told. His eyes looked over them all, full of hate and something Razia loved to see: fear. Quentin looked from side to side, pretending to silence them with a grave expression. She didn¡¯t miss the playful twinkle in his eyes as he turned back to their opponent.


    ¡°Seven hundred for your house. We both know you¡¯ve already paid it off and it would allow you to move nearly anywhere in the city, and pay for the move itself and then some. Thanks to some unfortunate gang violence, property values are dropping. Yours included. I could very well demand five hundred and you would still pay it.


    ¡°If I wanted, I could threaten you or your family, and you would pay even less.¡± Quentin raised a hand to stall Leonis¡¯ indignant squawk. ¡°I could. But I¡¯m not going to do any of that, Leonis. No matter how much of a prick you are, or how you tried to get us shut down and thrown out. I am going to deal with you fairly. You get a fair price for your house, my business expands, and you get out of the line of fire if and when gang activity gets worse.¡±


    After taking a long, deep breath, Leonis sighed. ¡°How the fuck are you not dead or in jail, Quintius? You¡¯re a thug. A dirty, low life. I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re pulling this shit, after years of quiet.¡±


    ¡°Six fifty,¡± Razia said, folding her hands in her lap and smiling sweetly.


    Leonis¡¯ face darkened again. Razia could swear she saw a vein in his forehead, threatening to burst. He got control of himself, slumping in his seat. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point.¡±


    Isa looked over her shoulder at one of the crates lining the wall. ¡°Throw in a crate of silk and seven hundred is fine.¡± She looked to Quentin, who just smiled fondly at her and nodded.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll draw up the paperwork.¡±


    ¡°You two have fun?¡± Quentin asked after signing the paperwork and handing a bulging sack of shards over to their former neighbor. He¡¯d be gone within a week.


    ¡°Moderately,¡± said Isa. ¡°Would¡¯ve been more fun if we could¡¯ve played with him some more. He¡¯s lucky I didn¡¯t smack him for how he spoke of us.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t complain,¡± said Razia, looking over at the two of them. As rough as the past few months had gotten, things were looking up. Summer waited around the corner and the various fighting factions of north Orchrisus were starting to settle down. She had a happy life with her partner, and Quentin had yet to fully come into himself. Razia saw that now more than ever.


    ¡°I could,¡± said Isa, to the surprise of no one. She wore a more genuine smile than Razia could remember ever seeing. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s surprised by that. I better go tell Jonas he gets his own house to run, and make sure he¡¯s not too mopey over me.¡±


    She turned to head inside, but Quentin grabbed her by the front of her silk wraps and pulled her in for a kiss. Isa made a surprised sound but practically melted against him. Recent developments did wonders for her mood. When Isa pulled away, she looked happy.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I like you well enough. Anyone else would get a slap and a bill.¡±


    Quentin looked her up and down. ¡°You¡¯re right. I am lucky.¡± Isa looked away, biting her lip. Rather than respond with a sharp retort, she just went inside. Then Quentin turned to her. ¡°And you¡¯re sure you¡¯re okay with this?¡± he asked her.


    Razia shrugged, smiling. ¡°I am. It¡¯s not in my nature to be jealous, and I want you to be happy. Both of you. I¡¯m plenty happy as well. Besides, I¡¯ve been eyeing Tenchi for a bit. Are you okay with that?¡±


    Her moonkissed lover considered it, silent as his brow furrowed in concentration. ¡°I think I am. You¡¯re not going anywhere, and neither am I. We work well together, and I know you love what you do¡­I love what you do too,¡± he chuckled. ¡°But no matter what, you mean more to me than anyone else. Anything else. All of this¡­I did it for you. And us.¡±


    Razia¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He looked so genuine, so serious, and so vulnerable, all at once. ¡°I know,¡± she said, cupping his face with her hands. ¡°You¡¯ve been so good to me, and I hope I¡¯ve been even half as good to you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say you have,¡± he said quietly. He leaned down and they kissed, soft and gentle and self assured. They were good together, and it felt good that they both knew it and weren¡¯t hiding it anymore.


    ¡°The king and his queens of the Boulevard,¡± said Razia, breaking away.


    Quentin rested his forehead against hers. ¡°The king and his queens,¡± he echoed. ¡°I like the sound of that.¡±

 Quentins Journal, Entry 1

    Quentin''s Journal, Entry 1


    It¡¯s strange to write in this. For so many long years, I¡¯ve been in isolation. Now I have friends, lovers, followers, and a community. No matter how many times I blink and pinch myself, this dream never ends. Most of my life was misery, and now¡­I genuinely fear that the happier I am, the closer I come to someone or something taking it all away, leaving me right where I started.


    It hasn¡¯t happened yet, but with the perpetual threat of Piro coming back to get vengeance on Christophe and kill me (or whatever his plan is), it¡¯s permanently on my mind. That said, it¡¯s been over a month since he showed up at the Garden and set me on fire, and we¡¯ve heard nothing from him since.


    I know I shouldn¡¯t relax, but it¡¯s getting harder and harder to take his threat seriously, especially as we continue to grow and prosper. Now that we have three houses in my square and are working on a fourth, things are just¡­clicking into place. I estimate we¡¯ll have the entirety of Argonza Villas by the end of the year.


    And that¡¯s on top of basically being the de facto controller of the Boulevard of Saint Trassius. Not all of the merchants and landlords along the Boulevard like us or want to be under our control, but they¡¯re behaving themselves, so far. It¡¯s not something I thought I would ever seek out, but here we are.


    I didn¡¯t used to understand Cicero and the others, but I do now. The bigger we get, the bigger a target we are. Defending ourselves is one thing, but being reactive isn¡¯t enough. With both the north and south sides of Orchrisus in relative chaos, everyone wants to fill that power vacuum. If it wasn¡¯t us, it would be someone much worse.


    How sad is that? It¡¯s the same thing I used to tell myself before I would execute people. It felt wrong then, and it feels wrong now, but is it? Time has proven again and again that others are far worse. Even so, I¡¯ve done things I¡¯m not proud of, things that should condemn me to thousands of years of penance when I die¡­


    Well, when I die for good. Twenty or thirty years from now when my time runs out and a lifetime of healing catches up with me. Gods, I worry about my girls when I finally die and don¡¯t come back. I still have time, but that ticks down with every injury and fight, and I am definitely still fighting.


    A month of relative peace and prosperity still means at least one or two fights in the street a week. If you can call them fights. Every so often some pissant with a small gang of followers wants a piece of us and issues a challenge. And then I execute them. What else do you call a fight with a foregone conclusion?


    Bit by bit, piece by piece, the street becomes ours. Mine. Gods, I never wanted any of this, but to reject it is to invite further chaos. I have things I care about. People I care about. There¡¯s no way I¡¯ll let anything bad happen to them, if I can do something about it.


    Being honest, I¡¯m not entirely sure what to write down here. This is only the second journal I¡¯ve ever kept, and it¡¯s a lot more¡­personal than the other one. But I did try to retrieve that one from my former job. Maybe I should talk about that, write down what happened. Why not? Razia said this would be good for my soul.


    The summer storms hit Orchrisus right on time, turning the hottest season of the year into the wettest. In truth, it was my favorite part of the year. Sure, days it didn¡¯t rain were miserable, but the rest of the season was often cloudy and dark in the middle of the day, and it let me go out without my shades and still be able to see.


    I still wore them, of course. They were part of my image now. The tall, brooding moonkissed with his eerie eyes hidden. Everyone expected to see Mr. Q dressed well, eyes covered, a girl on my arm and three or four armed men flanking me. I didn¡¯t mind it so much, except for that night¡¯s destination.


    We could¡¯ve taken a carriage, but out of nostalgia we walked from the northern outskirts of the city to the Colosseum, where I¡¯d given a decade of my life and taken nearly seven hundred lives. That last execution still haunted me, and I hadn¡¯t been back since.


    ¡°Did we really have to walk the entire way?¡± Isa complained, naturally, but I knew her well enough by now to know she just needed to gripe about something.


    ¡°I know this is nostalgic for you and all, but surely just being there would do the trick. Why punish me?¡± She held her umbrella carefully, making sure she stayed mostly dry. There was nothing to be done about the mud caking the bottom of her sandals.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take a cart the way back. If I don¡¯t get myself arrested for murder.¡± I slid my hand around her back, keeping her as close as I could without the umbrella poking me in the face.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± said Isa. ¡°I¡¯m really sick of having to deal with the Watch.¡±


    Gods, weren¡¯t we all? The bastards were usually willing to look the other way thanks to Omar¡¯s intervention and regular payments, but at this point they hated us more than the other criminals. Whether it was for being untouchable or because we did a better job of keeping the Boulevard safe, it was impossible to tell.


    ¡°Not in my hands,¡± I said with a barely restrained smile. ¡°If Amicus decides to start something, I¡¯ll finish it.¡±


    Behind me, my boys stirred. ¡°Are we going to need to quit?¡± Jaxon asked.


    Turning to look over my shoulder, I said, ¡°No, not unless you want to. Amicus is a bag of wind. He¡¯ll be petty, he¡¯ll be cruel, and he¡¯ll be easily punctured. I have enough on him that I really don¡¯t think there¡¯s much to worry about. But if he does punish any of you, I¡¯ll pay for the inconvenience and see about getting you more work. That sound fair?¡±


    The three gladiators turned gang members liked it well enough. One of them patted me on the shoulder roughly, a familiar motion I only really allowed them and my girls to do. Isa, however, wasn¡¯t completely satisfied.


    ¡°How is it you intend on getting what you want? You¡¯re going to threaten him into behaving? If he¡¯s really such a cunt scab of a person, do you think that¡¯ll work or just make him more likely to lash out?¡± Isa demanded.


    ¡°Speaking from experience?¡± I fully earned the slap to my arm.


    ¡°You know damned well I am. If he¡¯s even half as much of a bitch as me, he¡¯ll do anything he can to hurt you just for daring to make him think about changing.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have anything to say to that. I could¡¯ve congratulated her on growing as a person and being less of a vicious dragon of a woman, but Isa got weird about reminders that she was softening. Besides, she had a point.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to appeal to his better nature,¡± I said. ¡°And when that fails, I¡¯m going to shrug off everything he says and wait for him to tire himself out, then I¡¯ll go in for the kill.¡±


    ¡°Metaphorically,¡± said Isa, lips twitching with amusement.


    ¡°If you like.¡±


    The rest of the trip passed only with warm rain and the crunch of our sandals on mud. Luckily, there was a path of stone, keeping us from getting a foot stuck. The Colosseum grew larger and larger until it loomed over us and we came into its shadow.


    Despite the fact it was a rainy day, there were still plenty of people there. In an attempt to try to shake my influence from the fighters, they now had more fights going than ever, and a greater number of part time gladiators, rotating in and out with few real superstars or standouts. Other than, of course, Cervenka.


    Normally, we¡¯d around through the employees entrance on the east side, but I¡¯d been informed that there were standing orders to not let me through. If I was going to talk to Amicus, it would mean either forcing my way through and making it clear I was there for a fight¡­or buying my way into the luxury box, where he held court. I paid for myself and Isa, and basic tickets for my boys to get in. They wouldn¡¯t be necessary for what came next but at this point I couldn¡¯t leave the house alone in peace.


    It feels strange to admit this, but this was only the second time I¡¯d entered as a spectator. The first had been when I was a small child, and my parents took me to see a beast fight. They scrimped and saved to get me seats close enough to see the action. Nothing had blow my mind like seeing those half a dozen gladiators, armed only with swords and spears, take on some of the most deadly beasts of the deep desert.


    Every time in the Colosseum after that was after I was arrested for being part of Cicero¡¯s underground fighting arena during a bad scrap that had a body count. From there I watched the fights from the closest vantage point in the house, among the others. In a way, I was grateful we were taking the spectator¡¯s path. The depths had way too many memories attached to them.


    At the first ring inside, we separated from our escort. They followed at a distance while we went to the west side where the luxury boxes were. The good thing about spending a decade working there was most people knew of me, even if they didn¡¯t know me personally. The man checking our tokens to enter stiffened when I got close.


    ¡°Quintius. You¡¯re not supposed to be here, last I checked.¡± He was a man in his late forties, in no shape or condition to stop me if I tried something.


    Isa held up our two tokens. ¡°Paying customers. You going to start a fight over that or let us through?¡±


    He shrugged, bowing his head. He motioned for them to enter.


    ¡°You¡¯re at least as good as any threat,¡± I said to Isa, pulling her closer.


    She folded her umbrella and tied it shut. ¡°You can kiss my ass later, in private.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡±


    The luxury box was, naturally, covered and protected from the rain. Rather than endless stone benches they were individual cushioned seats. Several slaves stood at the ready to bring wine and snacks at a command. Though there were still plenty of spectators, the luxury box wasn¡¯t nearly as full. They were half an hour from the start of the afternoon games, and their target was there.


    Amicus followed a slave¡¯s gaze to find Isa and come in. Hatred and contempt flooded his features, and he openly sneered at us as we sat down next to him. ¡°Hello Amicus,¡± I said. ¡°You and I have something we need to discuss.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    He scoffed. ¡°The hell do you think I have to say to you? Get the fuck out of my sight, and take your filthy Ramali bitch with you.¡± Amicus kept his voice low, but a rich looking woman with silver hair looked aghast.


    Isa, naturally, took it as a challenge. She broke away from me and plopped herself down onto Amicus¡¯ scarred up leg. Throwing an arm around his shoulders, her other hand went down to his balls and squeezed until he squeaked and thrashed.


    ¡°No no, none of that,¡± she said, squeezing harder until he let out a pained gasp. ¡°You¡¯re going to apologize for that, and then we¡¯ll talk like adults. If not, this will get so much worse.¡±


    ¡°I thought threatening him was a bad idea,¡± I said with a chuckle.


    ¡°Get your hands off me. I¡¯ll see you dead for this!¡± Amicus wheezed, before another sharp squeeze removed his ability to speak. He gripped the arms of his chair like his life depended on it, bucking hard to no avail. Isa wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    ¡°That was before he insulted me. I don¡¯t have much tolerance for ugly fat Orchrisans thinking they¡¯re better than my people. You have any kids, Amicus? I can make sure it never happens.¡±


    ¡°S-sorry!¡± Amicus whined.


    Isa released him and plopped herself down into the seat on the other side of him, wearing a very Isa kind of pleased smile.


    One of Amicus¡¯ guards ran up, hands on a club. I shook my head slowly, brushing my mantle back to show my knife. He paused, and I took that opportunity to sit by Amicus, who cradled his abused bits. Amicus waved him off as he huffed and puffed for air.


    ¡°You really think you can have your¡­woman assault me in public and get away with it? Do you have any idea the kind of hell I can rain down on you? And your business?¡± His face was red and I¡¯m pretty sure no one has hated me the way he did then. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯ll spare you?¡±


    I smiled and took off my shades, hanging them on the edge of my tunic. ¡°The fact that I am a protected man and you are not. The fact that if I were to kill you, right here and now, in front of witnesses, I would then get to kill Cervenka and walk home a free man. The thing is, I don¡¯t want to threaten you, Amicus. I want to solve this problem between us.¡±


    After a few seconds, he looked away. ¡°You expect me to look away while you poach my employees for your criminal enterprise? Why would I do that when I hate you and want to see you suffer?¡±


    ¡°Do you hate shards, fat man?¡± Isa asked, buffing her nails on the colorful silk wraps she wore. She pointedly didn¡¯t look at him, but it was obvious contempt rather than Amicus¡¯ clear discomfort. ¡°You stand to gain on this, if you can get out of your own way.¡±


    ¡°...I¡¯m listening.¡± Amicus licked his lips and dared to look at me again, just for a second. His guard remained nearby but went to nearby people in the box and encouraged them to give us some privacy.


    I turned to the sight of the arena in front of me, from a vantage point I¡¯d never had before. Things were fuzzy about halfway out, but the fight would still be a wonder from here. For a second I tried to imagine what it would be like, to be just another rich person, rubbing elbows with Amicus and laughing as he announced. To share his wine as an equal, or whatever came close in his mind.


    ¡°You know,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯ve always loved the Colosseum. Even when it wasn¡¯t good to me. Even when Demetrius and others said I should quit, for my own sake. It took me until now to finally have comradery with the others. And now that I have it, I¡¯m not willing to let it go. Your attempts to punish them for working for me have been ridiculous and self defeating.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to retaliate or make it into a war. Instead, you want to give a blessing for your fighters to moonlight for me. Most of them are safe and don¡¯t have to worry about real fighting so much as small scraps. They¡¯ll be happier for it, given how hard it is to make a living in the Colosseum these days.¡±


    ¡°And what do I get out of it, in this fantasy scenario you think I¡¯ll accept?¡± Amicus swiped a nearby bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle.


    ¡°Same deal we give most other people who partner with us,¡± I said, trying my best to sound enthused and confident instead of like I was asking for a favor. It was something I still struggled with sometimes. The curse of having a soft voice. ¡°Cheaper entertainment on demand, for whatever parties or events you have.


    ¡°Consider the specialty crossovers. Beautiful women pretending to fight for private parties, removing each other¡¯s clothes as they struggle for dominance and put on a special show. Not only that, but free advertising from those who come to the Moonlit Garden. You¡¯re already getting that, in fact. People see gladiators they know and like hanging around and it makes them want to chat over drinks, and ask their opinions on which girls to go for.¡±


    Isa spoke up, driving the point home the way she was so good at. ¡°This is your chance to regain some semblance of control before one of the most dangerous men in the city decides to take umbrage at years and years of insults.¡±


    Amicus nodded, but said nothing. After another long pull from the bottle, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand and dropped it. Wine spilled out onto the floor, but he didn¡¯t care. His dark, beady eyes were screwed up in concentration as he thought it over. I gave him all the time he needed. Eventually he spoke up.


    ¡°I hate you, Quintius. Always have. My father used to talk about you as being good at what you did. Cool headed, professional, and never caused any problems. So imagine my surprise when I met you and you¡¯re a bleeding heart and a freak. Quiet, ugly, and unnerving as hell. My father never minded your little quirks, but you¡¯ve been a pain in my ass for entirely too long. You know the worst part?


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much of a choice.¡± Amicus spit on the ground. ¡°I¡¯ve got friends you can¡¯t imagine. Powerful ones. I could have you or your women killed.¡±


    ¡°You could try,¡± said Isa airily.


    Amicus continued as if she hadn¡¯t said anything, ¡°But you¡¯d probably survive and be an even worse pain. So if the choice is to get some extra shards and my dick sucked, I don¡¯t see how I can say no. You¡¯ll get your¡­your alliance. But I don¡¯t want to have to see you any more than I have to.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s reasonable. I don¡¯t want to deal with you either, but I am tired of my boys having to worry about making a choice where they work. You¡¯re bigger than me now, but that won¡¯t last long. I make a better friend than an enemy. So, we¡¯re agreed?¡± Just because I knew it would bother him, I extended my hand.


    He looked at it like he wanted to spit in my hand as well. Instead he just sighed and took it, pumped it once, and then wiped his hand off on his toga. ¡°Fine. Now make yourself scarce.¡±


    Isa stood. ¡°One more thing,¡± she said, sharp features looking downright predatory. ¡°You¡¯re going to gift us one of your best boxes. Permanently. Not this one, you can have some distance, but if we or friends of ours want to see a match, we will.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t intended on asking for anything else, but like usual it was a good suggestion that just added to it and let Isa push just a little bit further. I smiled and she looked appropriately pleased with herself.


    ¡°Fine. Fuck off now.¡±


    Biting back laughter, I added, ¡°One last last thing. A favor between friends.¡± Amicus turned a fantastic shade of red. ¡°I¡¯m going back to my former office. I left something behind there that I want to have.¡±


    Amicus snapped his fingers and the guard on standby came forward. ¡°Escort these two up to the executioner¡¯s office, and then off the premises when they¡¯re done. Understood?¡± At the guard¡¯s nod, he sneered at me. ¡°Get what you need and get the fuck out, Quintius. One of these days you¡¯re going to get what¡¯s coming to you, and I fully intend on being there to see you fall.¡±


    ¡°Nice talking to you, as always.¡± I took Isa¡¯s hand and helped her step over the fallen wine. With Amicus¡¯ toady in tow, we re-entered the Colosseum and took the winding path up into the offices at the top of the building.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take too long,¡± the guard said, trying and failing to sound tough.


    ¡°And what¡¯ll you do if we linger? You and what army?¡± Isa scoffed. I dragged her into the office with me before she could pick any more fights.


    ¡°Having fun?¡± I asked, wrinkling my nose at the way Cervenka decorated. Back in the day, I kept it classy and understated. A solemn place to get my paperwork done and the only other time I kept a journal. Now, weapons covered the walls, largely bolters of different size and shapes as well as throwing knives and axes. The DeathHawk mask hung above the chair, watching us.


    ¡°Always.¡± Isa sat on the edge of the desk and watched me with her arms crossed over her chest.


    Ignoring all that, I went to the cabinet against the wall opposite the window. It was locked, but I wasn¡¯t too worried about respecting Cevenka¡¯s privacy or the sanctity of his office. He¡¯d already shat on the position of executioner, I was merely taking what was mine. So I broke into the cabinet by punching it open. The pain lingered as I healed the cuts on my knuckles, stinging and burning into nothingness until I was once more whole.


    There were several ledgers in there. It didn¡¯t take me long to find the three that were mine. I opened one up and ran my fingers across the carefully line.


    Shae Belani, 34, mother and daughter. She was found guilty of murdering her neighbor and stealing her children after finding out she was barren. Her grief consumed her and drove her, right to the end. She didn¡¯t repent, didn¡¯t apologize, didn¡¯t think she had done anything wrong. When confronted about the murders, she cried that her neighbor didn¡¯t deserve the children she had. Not when she herself had no family.


    She chose to fight, promising me that when she won she would return to the children she earned and show them all the love they had been missing. Interviews with the children confirmed that their parents had been abusive and cruel. Obviously, none of that matters, but I can¡¯t help but feel an appreciation for her motives, if not her actions. Of all the reasons to kill another person, love and jealousy are common.


    I met her in the arena. She was a fierce fighter, all enthusiasm and anger and no skill. She didn¡¯t have a chance. I let her tire herself out while the audience watched and laughed at her. When she realized there was no hope left, she fell on her sword while cursing my name. Rather than let her suffer, I took her head and ended it there. The audience loved it. I didn¡¯t. I hope in death she found peace and fair judgment by the Darkstar. As for the children, I took the money from the execution and made sure the oldest got it when they came of age.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Isa asked, curiosity washing away all traces of her permanent aggression. Wordlessly, I handed the journal over to her and let her read the page I had open. She took her time reading it, expression softening.


    ¡°Did you record everyone you executed?¡± she asked.


    I held up the other two ledgers. ¡°Every single one of them. I didn¡¯t write much at first, mostly just noting their crimes and the way they di-...the ways I killed them. You¡¯d think they would blend together after a while, but after a year of doing it, I couldn¡¯t stand them just¡­being a footnote. I tried to talk about them, what drove them to do what they did, their attitudes, and how well they died. Even if no one else would remember them, I would.¡±


    ¡°And do you?¡± Isa asked, arching a delicate brow. She flipped through the ledger, towards the end. ¡°Adam Carrow.¡±


    It took me a moment, but soon I smiled. ¡°Friendly man. Killed his wife and brother for cheating. Regretted what he did and had me give the money from his bounty to his father and little brother. We had a few drinks and laughs before we fought.¡±


    ¡°Does it make you feel better about killing them?¡± Isa asked. There was no real judgment to the question, just a bluntness she could never escape. ¡°Does it help you sleep better at night?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied honestly. ¡°It does. It did. Now I have nightmares of other things, but for a while¡­for a while it was bad. I didn¡¯t think about these when I left. Not at first. But after everything that¡¯s happened with the Warlords, and the things I¡¯ve done to protect us¡­I don¡¯t need them anymore, but I want them.¡±


    Isa slid off the desk and handed me the journal back. ¡°Then let¡¯s get these back and lock them up so no one can find them and learn who you are. You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m so agreeable and forgiving and didn¡¯t try to use it against you.¡±


    Smiling, I said, ¡°Yes, I am lucky. We¡¯ll drop these off at home and then get dinner. How does that sound?¡±


    Isa walked out the door and I followed. ¡°That sounds nice. You owe me for making sure negotiations went smoothly.¡±


    I did. But that was far from my mind. When I got home, I had a little girl to add to the ledger. A scared child who had no business being executed. But like most of my life¡­better it was me than someone worse.


    It feels good, having the ledgers at home. It reminds me of who I once was, which lets me see better who I¡¯ve become. Things might be stabilizing, but there¡¯s no telling when things will flare up again and we¡¯ll be fighting for our lives. I¡¯m grateful for a chance to catch my breath, a chance to look backwards before I move on.


    Maybe I¡¯ll continue this journal. Maybe I won¡¯t. It¡¯s too early to tell, and I¡¯m incredibly busy these days. But maybe that¡¯s a reason why I should. The busier things get, the more it¡¯s important I take time to myself, and don¡¯t lose sight of who I am.


    So that¡¯s all for now, I guess. Razia and I have an important dinner to go to tomorrow. Maybe later I¡¯ll write down how that goes.

 Quentins Journal, Entry 2 (NSFW)

    Quentin¡¯s Journal, 39th of Summer 198 P.W.C


    Something I¡¯ve come to enjoy in my time as a pimp has been meeting new people and learning how to relate to them. It¡¯s not something I¡¯d ever expected, given I spent the better part of thirty years with people avoiding or throwing rocks at me, but I enjoy it. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing the looks on their faces as they have to deal with a moonkissed with more power and wealth than them.


    Not that I care about either, but they do. I¡¯m just happy to have what I have and to spend my time with my girls, where every night is either a fun party, or an excuse to cut loose and fight some unruly idiot who sees me and thinks he can make a name for himself. Either way, I come out ahead and enjoy myself.


    I mentioned last time that there was an important party coming up. That was two days ago, and¡­well, I can¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t fun, but I think I¡¯m going to be dealing with the repercussions for a while.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± Razia asked, striking a dramatic pose. As if she didn¡¯t already know.


    ¡°I love it,¡± I replied honestly, ¡°but isn¡¯t it uncomfortable and exposed?¡±


    Her outfit, if it could be called that, was a leather harness that exposed basically everything that would normally be covered up. All the metal on her body was proudly on display, framed by a red cloak, hood down. I was no longer the shy, paralyzed wretch I had been before, but I would always be affected by her.


    ¡°Perfect for grabbing the attention of Kavan Swint. He¡¯s sweet on me. Besides, I won¡¯t be exposed the entire time.¡± To demonstrate, Razia pulled the cloak shut, tying it with a silk rope. It wasn¡¯t too conspicuous, even in the summer heat, with the ever present monsoons. With just a pull of cloth, she¡¯d go from invisible traveler to bold and on display.


    ¡°If you¡¯re comfortable with it, then so am I.¡± And I was. It¡¯s funny, thinking of that brief bit of possessiveness I¡¯d felt. It had taken dying and learning I had burned up thirty years of my remaining lifespan to appreciate how fleeting everything was. Dying was a real wake-up call to live. Funny how that worked.


    ¡°I am. The real question,¡± Razia¡¯s grin turned wicked, ¡°is how comfortable are you with Delia Swint? Word is, they like to partner swap. Is your poor, delicate self going to be okay with yet another woman throwing herself at your feet?¡±


    Gods, it had gotten so bad, but I was hardly complaining. My issues with sex and trusting others enough to be vulnerable had finally gotten dealt with, largely thanks to her enthusiastic efforts. Now that I had branched out and was enjoying myself, I was fair game in the eyes of the girls working for me. I didn¡¯t encourage it, but at this point I didn¡¯t spurn it either, unless it was a transparent attempt to get in my good graces.


    ¡°I¡¯m not particularly interested in her,¡± I said. ¡°Her voice is simpering and her laugh is annoying. But I can put up with her for a little while if it means getting access to his contacts.¡±


    ¡°Just think,¡± said Razia, ¡°if she¡¯s that annoying you could always put her mouth to better use.¡±


    I rolled my eyes, but smiled anyway. It probably wasn¡¯t going to happen. If it did? I didn¡¯t know, but at the time I thought I would pull through. I had no idea what I was in for.


    The problem with living in a crowded city like Orchrisus was that going anywhere with a large group became an event. There were only a handful of streets wide enough for the beetle carts to take us through, and when you had a couple dozen prostitutes and almost as many of my Shades to transport, it got tricky. We didn¡¯t tend to have trouble, it just became an extra chore to clear the way ahead of us.


    Our caravan of courtesans always got a lot of attention as we passed. And why not? We had the most beautiful works of living art in Orchrisus. Masters of their craft, performers who knew how to work a room or crowd and lead even the most stony person by the nose. Traveling to parties used to give me anxiety, when the street war had been at its height. Now I appreciated the spectacle and the free advertising for the Moonlit Garden.


    Most of the time, I walked along the carts, grateful for a chance to get off my ass and stay moving. Some days, like today, I needed to maintain an appearance. Razia and I rode in our own private cart at the head of the train. Our roles were reversed: she had her cloak pulled around her as she sat upright, while I lounged like an indolent king.


    Cheers and jeers met us as we snaked our way around foot traffic along the Boulevard of Saint Trassius. As big as we¡¯d gotten, we still stuck to the north side of town. Our trip today was a straight line. On the eastern edge of town, where the land opened up, Kavan Swint and his wife lived on a sprawling estate near a tributary of the river. Our caravan crawled its way there over the course of about an hour.


    As far as I could tell, Swint¡¯s estate had more lush greens and rare plants than just about anyone in town, stretching as far as the eye could see. Or further. Even with my dark spectacles on, I could only see clearly for about twenty feet. The rest was a smear of colors and shadows. Whatever healing the Darkstar had given me as an infant, it hadn¡¯t extended to my eyes.


    Like many men of his station, he had an entire household of guards, servants, and slaves to manage it all for him. This time of evening, the slaves were out of sight, working to supply the party while the guards put on their best show of strength and class, wearing the bird sigil of their master on their helmets. They waved us through, their hungry eyes lingering on our girls.


    We were ushered to the side, where our beetles would be fed and brushed down during the party. Kavan Swint waited for us there, dressed in robes of burnt orange, lined by a sharp, angular black pattern. It gave some needed life and vigor in his pale skinned, dark haired appearance. He was a handsome man, and his wife was¡­


    Delia Swint was unnaturally beautiful, and I don¡¯t mean that as a compliment. She had gorgeous hair of deep, dark red, both curly and bouncy. Her skin was almost as pale as mine, and very unlikely to be so pure and without blemish in the desert. Few women could be blessed with her specific mix of a lithe frame with notable curves, hidden behind a green dress so tight it exposed everything. There had to have been hundreds of aquilos of flesh sculpting at work.


    ¡°Quentin Quintius, the king of the Boulevard,¡± Kavan Swint greeted me as soon as the cart rolled to a stop. One of his men pulled the back hatch down for us.


    I stood and helped Razia up as well. We left first, Razia daintily stepping down and me hopping off after. Kavan held out his hand and I grasped his forearm. ¡°Kavan Swint, king of the bastards.¡±


    He did a double take, and then burst out laughing. ¡°I suppose I am at that, aren¡¯t I? Politicians are the worst of us, and yet we let them run our lives. Razia Rashid, the second-most beautiful woman in the world.¡± He took Razia¡¯s hand and kissed it.


    She laughed with delight. ¡°Wise of you to say that around your wife, but also true. Delia I am, as always, astounded at your singular beauty. Isn¡¯t she a treat, Quentin?¡± Her eyes twinked with mischief.


    Swallowing a sigh, I smiled and brought her hand up to my lips to brush against it. When I tried to release it, she held on. ¡°I have never seen anyone who looks quite like you,¡± I said honestly.


    Delia gave a sour, false laugh. ¡°You¡¯re so kind, Mr. Quintius. I could say the same about you.¡± She grabbed me by the other hand and let her fingers wander up my arms, squeezing and pinching. ¡°You¡¯re quite the specimen. Hopefully we can get to know each other better tonight.¡± She finished by groping my pecs and making a pleased sound.


    After decades of abuse and fighting, I was very picky about who I allowed to touch me. Over ten years passed between my last lover and Razia. While I was now exploring with some of my more beloved girls, I didn¡¯t care for my personal space being invaded. I caught Razia¡¯s eyes. As always, she took pure joy in my suffering.


    ¡°We have much to talk about,¡± I said, resisting the urge to shudder or shove her away. She remained close enough that I had to look down to face her. ¡°Razia and I differ in how we operate. She prefers pleasure first to break the ice and get to know one another. I, on the other hand, prefer to get the unpleasant stuff out of the way first, so that we may celebrate reaching an accord.¡±


    Razia stepped up and continued as if we rehearsed. We didn¡¯t need to, with her instincts. The woman could sense weakness and opportunity like a strawbird could sense water. ¡°Of course, since we¡¯re here to serve this party at your pleasure, it only makes sense that you choose the order. Shall we have some fun and unwind, or talk while our girls get you and your guests good and hungry before they¡¯re allowed to sate their appetites?¡±


    Behind us, the carts unloaded, and the most beautiful men and women in Orchrisus stepped out and went as they pleased to explore the grounds. The guards didn¡¯t know whether to stop them or not, but since the Swints didn¡¯t protest, they stood their ground. Even when Isa stopped to tease one of them.


    Kavan¡¯s eyes darted from girl to girl. Within seconds, he was practically salivating. Razia seized the opportunity. She pulled off her cloak and said in her best faux innocent voice, ¡°Who do I give my coat to?¡±


    Delia chuckled, shaking her head fondly. If there was any jealousy there, I couldn¡¯t see it. Instead her eyes, an artificially vivid green, bore into mine. ¡°I think that he¡¯s going to be useless for a while. I think I speak for both of us when I say that our guests will be much more pliable and cooperative after they¡¯ve indulged themselves.¡±


    Razia all but threw herself at Kavan, pressing up against his side. She brought his hand to her breast. His thumb ran over the bar in her nipple. ¡°By the time we¡¯re done, you¡¯re going to be begging to give us what we want.¡±


    Kavan cleared his throat and smiled. ¡°Then please, let your lads and ladies go inside and find a lap to sit in. Enjoy all of our food and drink, and show us what you¡¯re capable of. Before the night ends, the four of us will have a chat about what we can offer one another. Does that cover it, love?¡±


    Delia tapped a finger tipped with, what else, red against her cheek. ¡°I believe it does. Save at least one round for me later.¡± She pressed herself against him and they kissed with the sort of hunger that is only half for show.


    ¡°I¡¯ve taken a few potions tonight,¡± he purred. ¡°That can be arranged. Meet back later with our experiences?¡±


    Razia winked at me, but I just rolled my eyes. Like usual, my discomfort was her delight. Tonight was to be a test of me afterall. My beloved, infuriating Razia would have the easy job of doing what she did best and charming him. And now I had to do the same with a woman who wanted me more than I wanted her. It would all hinge on my efforts. Kavan whispered something into Razia¡¯s ear as they went inside.


    ¡°Shall we, Mr. Q?¡± Delia took my arm in hers and hugged it between her breasts. There was a small part of me that enjoyed it, but it still wasn¡¯t with my permission. I did what I always did in situations that made me uncomfortable and froze.


    She led me inside, where the house extended into a massive conversation den, filled with couches and sculptures. There, I spotted Jenna, sandwiched between two men old enough to be her fathers. They wore masquerade masks, but it wasn¡¯t hard to pick out enough features to place them. They were only two of much more.


    Not everyone had gotten started so quickly, but now that we¡¯d arrived, the party started in earnest. Bodies writhed against bodies amidst laughter and gentle groans. Delia pulled me by the arm through the room, and down a hall. Servants got out of our way as she took me through the halls to her and Kavan¡¯s luxurious master bedroom.


    ¡°And what if your husband intended on using this bed?¡± I asked, looking around. It was all warm colors, hot even. The two of them loved the color red a tragic amount. It reminded me too much of Piro, the couple of times I had met him.


    ¡°What if he did?¡± Delia challenged. ¡°You¡¯re a powerful man, Mr. Q. Would you let someone like my husband keep you from taking what you want?¡±


    One didn¡¯t live my life without learning a thing or two about how people worked, when it came to lust. Razia had taught me much, and I had picked up a lot of patterns and behaviors, and what they meant. It was time to take a gamble.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, forcing a predatory smirk. ¡°I take what I want.¡± She quivered as I towered over her, using my size to my advantage to make her feel small. ¡°Anytime I want.¡±


    Her breathing quickened. Delia swallowed hard and leaned closer to me, taking my hand from between her breasts and bringing it to her face. My palm easily covered half her head, and her bouncy red hair was silky and soft. ¡°And what do you want, Mr. Q?¡±


    What a question. If I were someone else, I might¡¯ve growled out something demanding or possessive and made a move. The sex was free and all but impossible to avoid. It was easier even than approaching one of my girls with a handful of aquilos. They had the freedom to say no, and have, in the past. Now, I was the one who was being pressured for a yes, to entertain if it meant getting us what we wanted.


    It came down to respect. I respected what my employees do, I just never thought I¡¯d participate so directly in the business. I didn¡¯t respect Delia. Not really. And not because she threw herself at me. The woman knew what she wanted, but she didn¡¯t interest me. Anything I did would be playing a role. It might be enjoyable, but it wouldn¡¯t be real. And although I knew that wasn¡¯t a bad thing, I hesitated.


    ¡°I want you to tell me what you think makes you good enough to be fucked by me,¡± I said. I trailed my fingers against her cheek downward, until they wrapped around her throat. Careful to only squeeze the sides, I growled, ¡°Razia loves to perform. I¡¯m picky. What makes you compare to any of my girls?¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Something appeared on her face. At first I thought it was fear, but then I decided it was surprise. And a pleasant one, if the way she whimpered was any indication. She swallowed hard through my grasp on her throat, and I continued my attack, pushing her backwards until she hit the bed. I came after, pinning her there with one hand. She twitched, and I let her go.


    ¡°A-are you saying I¡¯m not good enough to fuck a moonkissed crime lord?¡± Delia asked, halfway between shock and anger.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re desperate to be fucked by a moonkissed crime lord,¡± I said. ¡°You want to be brutalized and survive the monster eating up more and more of the Boulevard, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I took a step back and raised myself up to my full height. Taking off my shades, I let her directly see the color, as unusual as her own, and the maximum strength of my scowl. In it, I poured all of my irritation, all of my contempt, all of my impatience for this whole song and dance.


    Her throat bobbed again. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, with an honesty I didn¡¯t expect. ¡°I want to see what you¡¯ll do, knowing you can¡¯t afford to hurt me.¡± She raised her leg up, between my legs. Her foot brushed my groin before I grabbed her by it and yanked her to the foot of the bed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to touch me without my permission.¡± I kept my tone even, calm, and deliberate. ¡°Do it again and --¡±


    Delia reached up and touched my cheek. She thought she was being funny. I didn¡¯t hesitate. One second she lay there smirking at me, the next I slapped her across her perfect, heart shaped face.


    ¡°That¡¯s the last warning you get.¡± My expression went dead.


    Delia tenderly touched a spot that was sure to bruise. Her entire body shook, and tears filled her eyes. She nodded sharply and said, ¡°Yes sir,¡± in such a demure voice that I almost took it for an act. After that, Delia sat straight up, hands in her lap. She was still presenting herself to me, but I was in control now.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± I said without thinking about it. Times with Isa had almost conditioned me to say the phrase, and Delia squirmed. Her gaze had been hungry before, but now I felt like she was gnawing on me with her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m here to discuss using you and your husband¡¯s connections to hook us up with senators and magistrates.¡±


    Delia pouted and leaned back, still suggestive but more to get comfortable. ¡°What do you and the islander want with a bunch of scumsucking, corrupt old men?¡±


    ¡°Their favor, obviously. There¡¯s legislation coming up that we want to kill, and need some sympathetic ears.¡± Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have spilled our general plan, but I had a feeling I could get what I needed from Delia, if I were willing to play along. ¡°We befriend you and your husband, he gets us to the men we need, we show our extreme appreciation for their favor, and the party keeps going for a little longer.¡±


    The inhumanly beautiful redhead made a thoughtful noise. ¡°I find it hard to believe that a business-fixated brute like you cares about the party. You won¡¯t even have a little fun with me.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you want?¡± I asked, letting my voice drop to a whisper. ¡°You want me to play with you? I fuck the life out of you and you convince your husband to throw in with us?¡±


    Delia shook her head, letting out an uncomfortably girlish giggle. ¡°You play with me and leave me satisfied, I¡¯ll give you more than Kavan¡¯s friends. I¡¯ll give you their wives and kids. There¡¯s a whole lot of drama in families like that, people who could use a favor or some¡­discretion.¡±


    She laid all the way back, her hair pooling behind her in a halo. Her tight dress emphasized rather than hid her breasts, and she drew the bottom up enough to show slender legs, and a small patch of darker red hair. ¡°You want to keep the party going? Then party with me.¡±


    My choices dwindled, but I still had something in mind. ¡°Fine. But we¡¯re going to play my way. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± Delia purred.


    I finally shucked off the cloak I¡¯d been wearing, and slipped off my spectacles. If this didn¡¯t get me in some kind of trouble, they¡¯d be easy to retrieve later. I basically undressed, pulling off my tunic and the rope that kept it taught. Left only in my underwear, I showed off my form for Delia, who openly gawked.


    Onto the bed I went, with the rope wrapped firmly in my left fist. I covered her body with mine, and enjoyed how soft and pliant she was. It wouldn¡¯t be so bad to give in, but she annoyed me. With my right hand I slid my fingers into the neckline of her dress, and pulled as hard as I could. Delia gasped as I ripped the material open, freeing perfect breasts. I continued pulling, yanking it off of her and leaving her naked save for her shoes and jewelry on her fingers and neck.


    ¡°Gods, Mr. Q, you -- ¡°


    I slapped her again, more gently this time. Not enough to hurt her so much as make it clear that I was in control, and she didn¡¯t have my permission to speak. It only took another two tries before she gave in, breath hitching in her chest. Every domination, every humiliation just stoked the fire in her. I knew what she wanted by now.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to go on a little trip,¡± I said as I threw the rope around Delia¡¯s shoulders. I tightened it around her throat and tied it there with just a little bit of slack. Enough for her to be able to breathe, until I pulled on it. ¡°On your hands and knees.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me,¡± she said, cheeks reddening with shame.


    Rather than answer, I pulled on the rope. With widened eyes she dropped to her hands and knees. In those haunting green eyes was something like fear, the idea that she might not know what she was in for. I walked to the door with my pet in tow, opening it so she could go out. When she hesitated, I planted my sandal in her ass and barked, ¡°Move!¡±


    We wound our way through the halls the way we had first come. The summer night was warm, so my pet wouldn¡¯t suffer too much from her lack of clothes. The real pain came from the way I marched her through her friends and peers. The party was in full swing by now, and people only had sex on the couches, against the walls, on the floor. I led Delia through the orgy, pausing to run my hand through Lucy¡¯s hair as she rode a hefty young man wearing a pig mask. My girl groaned and nuzzled against my hand as we passed.


    Dozens and dozens of people fucking, and I made Delia watch them without being allowed to participate. On occasion I would stop and grab a handful of that beautiful hair and direct her attention. Part of me wondered if I was going too far or doing something that would backfire, but Delia made it evident she enjoyed every second of it. The slight of her glistening lips made me stir, but I ignored it and kept us going until we left the main room and headed outside towards those extensive gardens.


    Delia crawled as fast as she should, and I could see the start of bruises on her knees and knuckles. A pampered woman like that knew nothing of real physical strain. She was about to learn, or she¡¯d back down. Either worked for me.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± she chanced asking me, looking over her shoulder. We weren¡¯t alone in the gardens. The sounds of sex broke up the sound of bugs in the night. I took her over to a stone bench next to a stream leading off the estate and into the sands behind.


    ¡°Right here, I think. You want cock, Delia?¡±


    She nodded.


    I smiled and waved some of my men over. Briefly, I¡¯d thought to maybe check her slaves and servants for volunteers, but then she would¡¯ve known what I had in mind. Now, as three shades approached, she looked up at me with wild eyes.


    ¡°Who wants to partake of Missus Swint?¡± I asked, jerking on the rope until she was on her knees and on display. ¡°She¡¯s kindly volunteered her body for your entertainment. Isn¡¯t that right, Delia?¡±


    She looked around at the three men I¡¯d summoned over. Jaxon, Kitt, and Mal answered my call, and they had participated in similar activities before. I smiled as they wasted no time in crowding around her, reaching to touch her face, her hair, her breasts. Delia held still for the most part, opening her mouth to say something but just gasping as Kitt pinched her nipple.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡± I repeated louder. At my tone, my boys backed off. Like a bunch of well trained dunewallas, they waited for the command to attack.


    Delia looked up at me with uncertainty. She could back out any time, even after this, but she knew at this moment it was time to make a choice. Her eyes drifted to the three men surrounding her, and I could feel her indecision. She wanted me, not a bunch of rowdy men. But on the other side of things, she wanted something rough and callous.


    Not only that, but among all those willing to sell violence, gladiators were some of the most vain. Kitt had long, flowing hair tied back, while Mal was a beast of a man with a big beard and wild, heated eyes. Jaxon was young and handsome, not yet scarred by battle. If she was going to be taken by any group of ruffians, they were a good looking bunch, and they knew it.


    ¡°You can always say no,¡± I said in a much softer tone. ¡°We can always go back to negotiating, if you aren¡¯t up for playing.¡±


    It worked better than it should have. Delia¡¯s haunting green eyes narrowed and she said, ¡°Do your worst.¡±


    I motioned with my hand, and my men all but attacked her. Mal fished out his half hard cock and slapped her in the face with it. A fistful of her hair directed her mouth onto him, and Delia wasted no time in wrapping her lips around it and swirling her tongue around the head. Mal groaned in appreciation as Jaxon and Kitt got partially undressed.


    With me there to watch and this overall party being low stakes, none of us were worried about an ambush. They let their weapons fall to the ground, kicking them over to me. Within seconds they were all ready, and Delia had them well in hand, alternating who she gave attention to. All while I watched.


    I enjoyed watching, and that remained forever funny to me. I was never a prude, but after years of being alone and a few bad experiences, I avoided it all. And now I sat on a stone bench, watching a living doll of a woman struggle to suck three cocks at once, and I luxuriated in it. When Delia¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t closed in euphoria, they were locked on mine, and I didn¡¯t look away.


    She wanted me to join in. Hell, she only did this because I was directing the action, and she understood the game to be control and submission, and she really did want to play. And now, seeing her give it her all, with all the reckless abandon I¡¯d seen from Razia, I wanted to play too. And I would, in my own way.


    ¡°Up,¡± I commanded, standing as well. Delia popped Jaxon¡¯s cock out of her mouth and looked up at me, panting. I snapped fingers and pointed at the stone bench I¡¯d just vacated. With a wild laugh, Mal pulled Delia up by her hair and practically threw her down before grabbing her by the thighs and lining himself up.


    Delia¡¯s eyes widened and she let out a gasp as Mal drove himself inside of her. As wet as she was, Mal was thicker than most and wasn¡¯t gentle. The redhead¡¯s eyes fluttered shut as her entire body jerked at the slow invasion. The other two didn¡¯t wait. Jaxon took her by her shoulders and held her in place, while Kitt, the slimmest of the three, threw his leg over her and straddled her chest. Grasping both breasts he mushed them up against his erection. She opened her mouth in surprise, and Jaxon filled her mouth.


    It was awkward at first, but it didn¡¯t take long for the three gladiators to find a rhythm. Mal would thrust hard and make her squeal around Jaxon, while Kitt slowly thrust between her breasts. Razia would¡¯ve considered this scene a work of art, and I would have agreed. But it could be better. Hard as stone, I left the four lovers.


    I wasn¡¯t gone long. Certainly not long enough for them to stop or finish or care that I¡¯d left, but enough time to gather others. Some more of my men, some of Kavan¡¯s, as well as some of the serving people. Delia was willing to be nude in front of others, but how naked would she let herself be?


    I came back with about a dozen spectators and participants. They¡¯d changed positions since I¡¯d left, and Delia lay atop Mal¡¯s burly form, with Jaxon behind her in her ass and Kitt thrusting furiously into her mouth. All it took was clearing my throat for Delia to notice all of the people who worked for her, watching as she got filled by low class men. It was enough to make her squeal in surprise, setting Kitt off.


    Delia sputtered and backed off as the gladiator¡¯s cock fired rope after rope of his semen into and across her face. With a relieved groan, Kitt fell back, which left room for another.


    I tapped on one of the Swint household¡¯s slaves'' shoulders and pointed at Delia. He looked at me like I was crazy, but I rolled my wrists and pointed once more. He grinned and pulled his tunic up. Delia panted for air as he got close, disgust and shame in her eyes as she looked at me.


    What could I do but smile? This was part of the game, and she¡¯d play or she wouldn¡¯t. Delia didn¡¯t have much time to think. The two men continued to thrust in and out of her perfect body. The slave moved forward, and Delia reached for him. She took him into her mouth just as Jaxon groaned and filled her ass. The gladiator withdrew shortly after, letting his cum drip from her. I waved one of her guards forward.


    In situations like this, they had no reason to listen to someone like me. Not when I was doing something that, at other parties, might have gotten me hurt or challenged to a duel of honor. But I¡¯d come to learn that all it took to be in charge, sometimes, was being willing to tell people what to do. They do it, trusting in the repercussions falling at my feet.


    It went like that for another hour. As soon as one man finished, another would step up. It stopped mattering whether or not it was her men, or my men, or even some of the masked politicians who had wandered out as it became more of a spectacle. The lady of the house, passed around like a hunk of meat.


    She had wanted to see what I would do to her, and she¡¯d mistakenly believed it would be me ravaging her. It feels weird to admit, even in my journal, that I¡¯ve gotten good enough that I believe I could¡¯ve given her what she wanted. But I could have given her that experience with a barely tamed beast. That¡¯s not who I was these days.


    I was the moonkissed bastard who would direct over a dozen low class people to fuck a rich man¡¯s wife while I watched and occasionally touched myself through my clothes. The satisfaction came more from seeing a woman who had twisted herself into what she thought was an ideal woman, being degraded and loving it.


    By the time she was almost out of energy, she was slick and sticky with more men¡¯s fluids than she¡¯d likely ever had at one time. The last man to fuck her, one of her guards, unloaded into her and left her on the stone bench, panting, heaving, and dripping. That¡¯s when I saw her husband in the crowd, looking both exhausted and horrified at the scene in front of him.


    Then I saw Razia, and her look of surprise is something I¡¯ll treasure for the rest of my life. Especially with what came next.


    ¡°You just got fucked by half your men and mine,¡± I said, reaching down to cup her sticky cheek. ¡°How do you feel? You ready for me yet?¡±


    Delia panted and whined, leaning into my hand. ¡°I¡­That¡¯s¡­Do you mean it?¡±


    I smiled and patted her face. ¡°Of course.


    ¡°Good to know you¡¯re taking care of my wife, Quintius,¡± Kavan said with an edge to his voice. I wondered then if he¡¯d ever shared Delia with more than one person at a time. My gut told me he hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. I pulled my underwear down. A quiver of fear went through me as I felt so many eyes of the party on me. I grasped my cock and stroked it above Delia¡¯s head.


    She reached for it and I slapped her hand out of the way. ¡°Nuh-uh,¡± I said, stroking harder and faster. It had been difficult, spending that entire time with no relief. I could draw it out, but I didn¡¯t want to. Delia had her fun, and now it was time for me.


    As I went harder and faster, I let out an indulgent groan. Delia¡¯s eyes watered with shame, understanding, and yearning. Even at the end, she would be denied what she wanted. I grinned at her, and seeing the longing on her messy, well used face, I went over the edge.


    She took me all over her face, and I kept my aim true. Delia had to close her eyes and hold her breath as the last load of the night covered her. When I was done, I put myself away and patted one of the less wet spots on her head. ¡°Good girl. Maybe next time, I¡¯ll even touch you.¡±


    I walked through the crowd, pushing past Kavan and Razia. I wasn¡¯t angry. Quite the opposite, in fact, but I needed to keep up the performance. I went back to the Swint¡¯s bedroom and got dressed again. When I came back out, Razia waited for me by the gardens.


    ¡°That was cold,¡± she said. ¡°Isn¡¯t it usually my job to gamble with risky decisions?¡± The crowd in the far end of the gardens hadn¡¯t left. In fact, more activities had started up. At parties like this, no matter how final a finish was, the rest of the people kept on going. So it would go for another few hours.


    ¡°Usually,¡± I said, opening my arms. Razia pressed herself against me and breathed in deeply. ¡°Did you have fun with Kavan?¡±


    ¡°Ugh,¡± she said with a huff, ¡°he¡¯s more in love with the idea of being a good lover than being one. He¡¯s plenty satisfied, but I¡¯m not. And you reversed it with Delia, didn¡¯t you? You¡¯re satisfied, but she¡¯s not.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that. If she¡¯s not satisfied after all that, then there¡¯s no pleasing her.¡±


    ¡°Oh shut up, you know exactly what I mean,¡± said Razia. She got serious. ¡°This is either going to work really well, or really poorly.¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± I agreed.


    It didn¡¯t take long to figure out how it went. The rest of the party proceeded as normal, and then we limped our way home for a day of rest, as was traditional after big events. We had plenty of talent to rotate in that night, and some to make outcalls. In truth, I¡¯d put the events of that night out of my mind, until today, before I started writing.


    More than a few politicians wanted meetings with us, delivered through Swint¡¯s personal couriers, the way he usually did to help keep their business discreet. Kavan himself declared that he¡¯d patronize our establishment at least once a week, which he knew would be free when he did. It was one of the perks of having connections that suited us.


    And Mrs. Delia Swint? Their couriers sent her ripped green dress to me. Razia had been delighted to point out that at some point she¡¯d put it back on and¡­personalized it, for me. It came with a note with one request: Delia wanted to occasionally work a night or two there.


    Whether it was to be closer to me, or to re-experience what I gave to her, I don¡¯t know. It made an impact on her, and I¡­don¡¯t fear so much as anticipate that she will not let it go. I¡¯m perfectly satisfied with the partners I have, so this was¡­The only word I can think of is complication. I don¡¯t want Delia Swint, but I might need to play in the future to keep the party going.


    Well. If nothing else, it would give me more chances to be creative. As Razia proved to me, I enjoy giving in to temptation. I enjoy drawing it out even more. Either way, the Garden goes on, and we¡¯re one step closer to our goals. That¡¯s good enough for now.

 Double Announcement!

    Alright, so it''s been a bit. Life has hit me hard, my last attempt at a book flopped halfway up RS, and I injured my back and not only need surgery to replace a chunk of my spine but also have to get into better shape so the surgery is safe. It''s been a lot. On the other hand, the past month especially I''ve been writing up a storm and have a lot to show for it. It brings me to two pieces of news regarding stories I''ve been working on.


    The first is that I''m going to be entering Writathon next month, with the goal of writing and posting 100k words for the month, or about 80% or so of the book length. The story is called "Shattered Stones: Roseheart" and will honestly be a blend of a bunch of my ideas that never panned out the way I wanted them. I''ll be happy to post again when it''s up with a link to it, as well as a description.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    More importantly, and maybe I should''ve led with this, I''ve been working on rewriting The Accidental Pimp. I''m planning on keeping the first 14 chapters or so, and then it''s going to diverge pretty heavily, using the lessons I''ve learned over the years and alternate plots that didn''t end up happening because of the direction I took it. It''s also going to feature actual sex scenes this time, though I''m going to make them optional for people who don''t actually like reading smut. This was always meant to be a story that was about sex and violence and intimacy issues, and I want to explore that better, as well as emphasize the romance better instead of having the weird middle section where it was put on the backburner.


    That one will be called, at a good suggestion, The Butcher''s Bordello, and will launch sometime next year. Goal is around May for my birthday or so. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope to see you soon for both stories!

 Chapter 115: Apex Predator

    Chapter 115: Apex Predator


    Sometimes, taking control of the Boulevard of Saint Trassius felt like a mistake. It had been a couple months since the street war that had killed several gang leaders, including Mr. Cicero and Christophe, and life hadn¡¯t let up since. Every day was a new fight or complaint, a party to throw, shards to handle, or people to manage.


    Quentin thought he knew what he¡¯d taken on, but he clearly hadn¡¯t. He stood in his new ¡®War Room¡¯, with a map of the Boulevard painted on the wall, with each individual business marked and noted with what they owed every two weeks. There were also marks for which businesses were delinquent, which meant either sending his men to collect, or going himself.


    ¡°Qala for your thoughts?¡± said Razia as she came up beside him. She¡¯d let her hair grow out, and now there were rows of short, thick, but trimmed lines. Her smile and playful lilt in her voice, however, would never change.


    Quentin immediately put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. ¡°I was thinking, no wonder Cicero was such a bastard. There are still a handful of people who aren¡¯t too happy with having to pay money to a filthy Moonkissed. So that leaves me with a dilemma.¡±


    Razia made an appreciative sound. ¡°You have to either come down on them or risk people thinking you¡¯re soft. The more people who think you¡¯re soft, the more danger we¡¯re all in. But you don¡¯t want to hurt anyone, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s about the size of it.¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°And not only are there business owners making a stink, but some of the newer men seem to view this as an endless party and not a job. Was it a mistake to open up recruitment outside the Colosseum?¡±


    She chuckled and broke apart. ¡°Not at all. It was necessary. We were never going to keep a steady supply of new faces from there. Especially not with Amicus getting in the way. This was inevitable. Got anyone in particular in mind?¡± Razia sat on the table in front of the map, hands spread out behind her.


    ¡°Yeah. Rodrick¡¯s been getting cocky and handsy with the girls. I might need to knock some sense into him.¡±


    Despite being one of the bigger bosses in the north side, Quentin kept a hands-on approach. Razia took care of the money and communication, Isa managed their girls, Jonas led the Shades, and Quentin went where he was needed. He was more than happy to go collect taxes, spend time with the girls, or get his hands dirty. Hell, the past two months had been filled with relentless violence, as they fought to regain control and enforce a sense of normalcy in the city.


    They were almost there, but each time they gained ground, it felt like something happened to knock them back a few steps. They¡¯d managed to get a few new allies, while also several more headaches along the way, including the attention of the Watch¡¯s leadership.


    ¡°Now, by ¡®knock some sense into him¡¯, do you mean a warning or actually smacking him around?¡± Razia looked delighted at either option.


    Quentin grimaced. ¡°That depends entirely on him. I also want to go out and talk to a few shopkeepers as well, maybe convince them to stop being so stubborn. Is there anything that requires my immediate attention, or can I go for a walk?¡±


    She tapped her chin and pretended to think about it. ¡°I think we can spare you for a couple hours. But I want you to bring a couple men with you.¡± Quentin sighed, and she pointed at him. ¡°You¡¯re important now! Important people don¡¯t go alone unless it¡¯s secret, serious, or desperate. You need a couple of goons at your side.¡±


    Like usual, it made sense, but Quentin didn¡¯t have to like it. He¡¯d once thought that having money and power meant more freedom, and he supposed to an extent it did. Mostly, it meant having more responsibilities chaining you down. Higher highs, with utter tedium sometimes slowing him down.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he conceded. ¡°But I¡¯m not letting them do the fighting for me. If trouble happens, I¡¯m probably safer just by virtue of my gift.¡±


    He¡¯d gotten better and better at healing on command without feeling too weak afterwards, though the hunger afterwards always overwhelmed him. He tried not to think about how using it made the clock tick faster, and he¡¯d already burned up thirty years of life.


    Razia ran a hand over her hair thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯d never ask otherwise. Go out and have some fun. But first?¡± She tilted her head up at him.


    Quentin leaned over and kissed her, savoring the moment. It was always good to take a breath and remember to live and not just survive.


    Then he went to their room and got dressed in his most ostentatious clothes. It had become a new weakness of his, dressing in only the finest cottons and silks, usually in bold colors that contrasted with his pale pink skin and off-blonde hair. Today he chose black and red, even though it would draw the blazing sun¡¯s attention.


    He was joined by Mort and Vigo, who he didn¡¯t know too well, but they were quiet and didn¡¯t give him trouble. Most importantly, they were ugly and dangerous looking, though Quentin still felt his severe, hawkish face gave them a run for their money. He told them their stops, and they braved the later afternoon¡¯s oppressive heat.


    The Boulevard was almost fully rebuilt after the skirmishes that had wrecked several businesses and ended in near-riots. Quentin had poured a decent amount of his own shards into making sure people could recover and get back to work. Most of them appreciated the effort, even if they ended up pouring the money right back into his pockets in the end.


    The difference now was that everyone knew who he was. People had started recognizing him when he went out with the girls to inns, and then to functions via beetle carts full of beautiful men and women. Now that they paid him tribute, he couldn¡¯t walk down the street without people of all ages bowing their heads respectfully, or calling out greetings. It wasn¡¯t love or loyalty, like with the Moonlit Garden. It was mostly fear, of a different kind than he grew up with. Quentin still didn¡¯t know how he felt about it.


    The trio made their way east, away from the setting sun. Quentin stopped a few times to hand out some qala pieces to kids playing outside an inn and a few especially skinny beggars. As far as he knew, that was something Mr. Cicero had never done. He handled money and secrets, and kept control by keeping everyone perfectly poised at each other¡¯s throats. A little generosity went a long way towards people not hating you.


    Of course, some people still did. Not every reaction was warm or submissive. One man spat on the ground as they passed and Quentin pretended to not see it. Another stood in front of his bakery and glared right at him. He¡¯d just smiled pleasantly at the man until he was forced to look away.


    The Bartle Beetle Stables were on the eastern outskirts of town, where the Boulevard became the road to Bellamoore and Avarast on the ass-end of the continent. The pens containing several different species of giant beetles stretched out into the desert, but the placid, tamed beasts grazed on garbage dumped into their troughs. This was a critical business to those traveling in and out of the city. Quentin paused before they entered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything aggressive unless they hurt me first,¡± he said. ¡°Or if they are actively trying to hurt you. I fully intend on giving Mr. Bartle a chance to fix things without hurting him if I don¡¯t have to. Understood?¡±


    His men grunted in the affirmative, though Mort also snorted derisively. Neither of them seemed to expect danger from the beetle breeders, and it annoyed him. Holding back a sigh, he entered the stable and approached the front desk.


    Mrs. Bartle sat on a stool, chatting with a large young man with long hair and a crooked nose. Their conversation died mid-sentence, and the young man (Bartle the younger, Quentin assumed) turned and sneered at him.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± said Quentin, inclining his head. ¡°Is Bander Bartle in? He and I have some business to discuss.¡±


    Young Bartle¡¯s sneer only deepened, and he spit on the ground near Quentin¡¯s boots. ¡°It¡¯s not business. You¡¯ve come to squeeze us for shards, the same as the last bastards. Dad will tell you the same thing I will: go fuck yourself, you Moonkissed son of a whore.¡±


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    It was strange. So many people, the more power they had, the more fragile they became. Quentin had found himself having the opposite problem. It would take no effort to hurt this kid in any number of ways, so his barking was as much of a threat as a toothless dunewalla. The smart thing to do would be to hit him, or have his men do it.


    ¡°Now, that was rude, don¡¯t you think? How about we try this again, and keep things from getting unpleasant.¡± Quentin smiled, the very picture of carefree and relaxed.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± the youth spit again. ¡°Get out of here before I --¡±


    ¡°James, go get your father,¡± Mrs. Bartle said quietly. Unlike her son, she looked aware of the potential consequences of this line of conversation. ¡°Don¡¯t argue with me, just go!¡±


    James¡¯ scowl only deepened, but he did as he was told. Quentin nodded at the woman. ¡°I appreciate your time and understanding.¡±


    She said nothing in return, just blanched and looked down. He wished it didn¡¯t have to be that way, but he had a role to play. They remained in silence, other than the occasional guttural bellow of a beetle. The smell of the beasts was strong, but not entirely unpleasant. It was a good, honest profession. He understood why they wanted to keep it theirs.


    ¡°We told you before, we want nothing to do with you or your kind,¡± Bander said, coming in from outside with his son in tow. He had similar dark, long hair, but his face was leathery and lined with age and time spent under the relentless sun. ¡°We don¡¯t want to have to fight, but we will if we have to.¡±


    Quentin made a show of taking a deep breath and saying, ¡°Good day, Bander. I trust you¡¯re well. I¡¯d rather you not fight me. I would genuinely hate to have to hurt anyone in your family, but if you draw glass on us, we¡¯ll draw steel. Understood? For the love of the gods, I just want to talk.¡±


    Bander growled out, ¡°Oh yeah, just a talk. That¡¯s why you brought some muscle with you, huh?¡±


    Quentin made a motion with his hand. ¡°Take a walk, boys. Don¡¯t go far, but let¡¯s give them some breathing room, shall we?¡±


    Vigo and Mort exchanged an incredulous glance, but shrugged and went outside. Quentin heard rather than saw them slump against the front of the stables on either side of the door. He turned to Bander and spread his hands, as if to say, ¡®your move¡¯.


    He looked at his wife and son, silently telling them to relax before he crossed his arms over his chest and said, ¡°Say your piece, then.¡±


    Quentin didn¡¯t waste time. ¡°You need me more than I need you, Bander. Over the past few months I¡¯ve worked my ass off getting everyone on the same page. You pay me a small portion of your take every fortnite and I make it clear that you¡¯re not to be disturbed by the people who operate on the Boulevard. Anyone who tries will be reprimanded and you will be recompensed.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got mutual interests, you and I. We both want to see you and your family thrive, and we both want the peace and space to provide for our families. Work with me, and you¡¯ll have extra security. Work without me, and I can guarantee you that by the end of summer, you will face hardships you could have avoided.¡±


    Mrs. Bartle inhaled sharply, and Bander closed the distance and jabbed his finger in Quentin¡¯s chest. ¡°I don¡¯t tolerate threats, Quintius.¡±


    Quentin looked down, deciding how to handle it. He slowly, deliberately put his hand on Bander¡¯s and pried it off of him. ¡°I¡¯m not in the habit of making threats. I¡¯m making a prediction. Let¡¯s use your beetles as an example.¡±


    He pointed out the side door, where a massive behemoth beetle grabbed a smaller male charger with its horns and flung it a dozen feet away. ¡°A behemoth beetle may eat our garbage and shit, but it doesn¡¯t have much to fear. It can fight nearly any predator off and protect its mate and children. The only thing that hunts behemoths are manticores and sandsharks. But they aren¡¯t the only ones that eat them.


    ¡°Get enough dunewallas hungry and angry, and they¡¯ll wear a beetle down and devour its guts. Vultures flying overhead will wait for the perfect moment to ambush and carry off their grubs. Even humans will come by with rope or chains and take them as they please, and there¡¯s only so much their strength can do about it.


    ¡°You¡¯re a strong man, Bander, and I respect that. But in this scenario, I¡¯m the manticore. This is my hunting grounds, and no lesser predator or scavenger will take what is rightfully mine.¡±


    The beetle wrangler was silent for another several seconds. Until he snorted and said, ¡°In this scenario, the price of going uneaten is to feed you my grubs, right? Just give a little of what¡¯s mine and you won¡¯t eat me. And what happens when times are lean, or when you don¡¯t provide protection? Cicero --¡±


    ¡°I am not Cicero,¡± Quentin said gently. ¡°I have no intention of being him. A rising river provides for us all. I want us all to get fat and happy, and for the rest of the city to envy us. Pay your share, and it will be returned to you in value three times over.¡±


    For a second, Quentin thought he may have gotten through to the man. And maybe he had, but before Bander could say anything, something crashed into Quentin from behind.


    ¡°James, no!¡± Mrs. Bartle cried out.


    They went tumbling to the ground, and he rolled them over and raised a hand in time to block the downward thrust of a knife. Red hot pain pierced his palm as the blade sank straight through, stopping at the hilt. The teenager looked just as surprised as Quentin, but only for a second. Mort and Vigo were on them in a flash, pulling James off of him and slugging him in the face.


    ¡°No!¡± Mrs. Bartle cried out again.


    Bander let out a snarl and attacked Mort with his fists. Vigo wrenched James¡¯ arm behind his back and continued to apply pressure. Meanwhile, Quentin fought to get to his feet, more annoyed at the stains to his clothes than the knife sticking out of his hand.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Quentin barked, putting his whole chest in it.


    His men, who had immediately gained the upper hand, froze with the family subdued. They looked to him with confused scowls, ready for further instructions.


    Quentin held up his hand for them to see, and ripped the knife out with a hiss of pain. He concentrated, and everything from the wrist up was consumed in an itchy fire. The wound closed itself until not even a scar persisted. Bander paled, and even James looked freaked out.


    ¡°I wish you hadn¡¯t done that,¡± Quentin sighed. ¡°Hold the father where he is. Stick the boy¡¯s hand out on the counter.¡±


    James¡¯ eyes widened, and he struggled, but Vigo was bigger even than Quentin and had an iron grip on the teen¡¯s twisted arm. He slammed him against the counter, one hand out. He grinned at his boss, waiting for what he knew was coming.


    ¡°You don¡¯t make a move like that without accepting the consequences¡­James, was it?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Mrs. Bartle whimpered. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt him!¡±


    Quentin shook his head. ¡°I won¡¯t kill him, but that¡¯s the best I can promise you. I think you all need a reminder that me talking to you politely is a courtesy.¡±


    A shiver went down his spine. Once upon a time, his courtesies were different, kinder. But this was his life now, and there were certain unpleasant realities he had to face, if Quentin wanted to keep his crown and protect his people. He considered the knife and the outstretched hand. He moved into position and shifted his grip.


    James looked up at him with tears in his eyes now. The false bravery that had driven him to try to defend his family business was gone, and he was helpless and knew it. No one liked the reminder that others could hurt them. Quentin locked his eyes on the teen¡¯s, and drove the knife through the back of his hand, deep into the wood.


    He screamed, hard enough that his voice broke. Bander fought against Mort, but he might as well have been chained up. Mrs. Bartle whimpered and hugged her son, but wisely left the knife alone. She whispered something in James¡¯ ear, but Quentin couldn¡¯t hear it over the howls of pain.


    ¡°When you pull the knife out,¡± he said, raising his voice, ¡°you¡¯re going to want to boil some water and clean the wound well. You¡¯re probably going to need stitches, and to not use that hand for a while. I want you to take a few days to think about my offer. My patience isn¡¯t endless, Bander. I don¡¯t want to hurt you, but I will. And if you and your family continue to insult me, I won¡¯t hold my men back.


    ¡°Am I understood?¡±


    It was times like this Quentin was grateful at how cold and closed off he sounded if he didn¡¯t make an effort to sound empathetic. He didn¡¯t hide his disappointment or weariness, but more than anything, he hoped he projected power and inevitability.


    Bander nodded vigorously, eyes dropping to the ground. ¡°I-I-I understand, I just¡­Please don¡¯t hurt him worse. I¡¯ll make sure he never does that again.¡±


    Quentin smiled again. ¡°I look forward to our next conversation, Bander. If you can promise me that I¡¯ll like what I¡¯ll hear, I might just have to bring you a bottle from my personal collection. To toast our partnership.¡±


    The beetle wrangler¡¯s lips tightened, until they were just a thin slash in his face, hiding every feeling but fear and submission.


    Pulling out his purse, Quentin counted out a castura in small pieces and set it on the counter next to a still whimpering and crying James. ¡°Get yourself a good meal on me. It¡¯ll take away some of the sting.¡±


    The three of them left the stable behind. The screams had reached the street, and there were more than a few people watching with interest as they walked back out into the bright summer afternoon. They kept their distance though, including the two copper Watchmen who looked very badly like they wanted to say or do something.


    Quentin smiled at them too. The job wasn¡¯t what he wanted, originally. It would¡¯ve been so much nicer to just stick to the Moonlit Garden, and spend his days and nights with his girls, enjoying and celebrating life and passion. But if the past few months had taught him anything, it was that it was eat or be eaten. It was better to be at the top of the food chain and keep order, than to be at the mercy of others. Once upon a time, it had been his job to end lives so someone worse didn¡¯t make them suffer.


    To him, this was no different. The only thing that had changed was Quentin no longer denied his role. If it took being the apex predator to minimize damage, then he¡¯d sharpen his fangs and sink them into anything that crossed him.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± said Quentin to his goons, ¡°we have four other friendly conversations to see to.¡±

 Chapter 116: Relentless Revelries

    Chapter 116: Relentless Revelries


    Isa never expected to end up leading anyone, let alone one of the largest whorehouses in all Orchrisus. When she¡¯d moved to the city against her clan¡¯s wishes and started fleshsculpting her way into a body better suited for her, she started at the bottom. Prostitution was an easy way to make a living off of the carnal hungers of men with a specific hunger for dusk-girls who hadn¡¯t fully transitioned.


    It also made her feel desired as a woman, but that had long since worn off and been replaced with cynicism. Isa didn¡¯t hate what she and the others did, but it had never been the calling it was for Razia or Samantha¡­until it had been.


    Despite her initial resistance, she cared deeply for the safety and prosperity of her sisters. It may have taken her a long time to accept that things were improving, but even a stubborn Ramali bitch could admit when she was wrong.


    Mostly wrong.


    ¡°Who did this to you?¡± Isa demanded, tilting Rachael¡¯s chin to the side so she could better look at the bright red bruise and puffy eye. They were in the third house¡¯s dressing room, and they had an audience of whispering, gossiping busybodies just a few feet away.


    Rachael winced and tried to pull away, but Isa tightened her grip and forced the young woman to meet her eyes. Three seconds later, she broke. ¡°Brad. The new guy.¡± She shivered, and then the words became a downpour. ¡°Last night, when we were closing up, he asked for a last minute fuck, and I didn¡¯t have anywhere to be so I said yes, right? And it was fine at first, but he got rough and I told him to stop, but that just made him mad and he¡­¡±


    Isa inhaled sharply and released her. ¡°And you weren¡¯t going to tell anyone? Were you going to pretend it didn¡¯t happen, maybe cover it up with some paint and laughter?¡± Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she longed to sink her nails into tender flesh.


    The girl shrank under her withering gaze. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to cause any trouble,¡± she started. ¡°He didn¡¯t mean it and -- ¡°


    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean it?¡± Isa snarled. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if he ¡®meant it¡¯. What matters is that he hit you after you said to stop. Do you think we should allow an untamed beast among us because it might upset someone to speak up? That¡¯s not how we do things here. If you have a problem, you come to me and I deal with it. Am I understood?¡±


    It was a testament to Isa¡¯s fire and fury that Rachael wasn¡¯t the only person to say, ¡°Yes ma¡¯am¡±. Around the room, at least seven of them said it, straightening up as they did so. Isa took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°You¡¯re not working tonight, and that bastard is going to pay you for the lost wages.¡±


    Without hesitation, Isa left the room and the house behind and stomped her way through the courtyard, where they¡¯d already started setting up wine and fruit for their customers. The open square was decorated by brilliantly colored alchemical lanterns, casting a rainbow of light over everyone, spinning chaotically. Their own security had replaced the ones formally taking care of the neighborhood, and she spotted Brad immediately.


    He was a slim, dark featured man of medium build, and a savant with the ability to feel metal around him. It made him perfect for spotting concealed weapons, but it also left him arrogant and entitled, as so many savants were. He rested against his spear as he chatted with his friend Bindie, laughing at something the man said.


    Brad turned to face her just as Isa drove her first into his nose. Her knuckles exploded with pain, but judging by the cry of pain and the way he went down, she got the better end of things.


    ¡°What the fuck,¡± Brad started, but Isa kicked him to keep him down. No one moved to stop her.


    ¡°I should be asking you that, asshole. What the hell were you thinking, hitting one of the girls? Do you forget what you¡¯re here to do? Do you forget what happens to those who forget the very first rule of working here?¡±


    Brad looked around incredulously as blood flowed from his nose. If he was angry, it was beat out by the surprise of being punched by one of the women he was hired to protect. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to! I was drunk and -- ¡°


    Isa kicked him again, and again. ¡°That¡¯s not an excuse! You owe her an aquilo, and then you¡¯re going to ask her for forgiveness. If she gives it, you might still have a job here.¡±


    He opened his mouth, possibly to argue, when Bindie cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure he does. Sorry for the inconvenience, Isa.¡±


    She took a moment to level her glare at every man and woman assembled there, guard and whore alike. If any of them had anything to say, they were wise enough to keep it to themselves. Without another word, she stormed to their second building, musing that they needed to give the houses names before too long.


    Jonas waited in the main room as their people cleaned the area. Seeing her, his eyes lit up in a way that continued to vex her. ¡°Isa! Just the woman I wanted to talk to. I think I¡¯ve found us another band to play in the courtyard.¡±


    In spite of her anger, Isa paused. ¡°Really? Are they any good?¡±


    His smooth, handsome, baby-face twisted in concentration. He wiggled his hand. ¡°They¡¯ll get better, and they¡¯re willing to take reduced pay. Not as good as Lina and the Coquettes, but they¡¯re getting restless, playing most nights.¡±


    It was surprisingly difficult to find good musicians in Orchrisus who fit their needs. They¡¯d cycled through a few bands, but people either got distracted by the public sex, greedy, or burnt out from the strain of going for hours each day. They had the shards to bring more people in, but they had reached a plateau when it came to expanding. Isa was smart enough to know that this is when one focused on infrastructure and stabilizing the business.


    ¡°Then tell them to show up here tomorrow at three, and I¡¯ll listen to them. I¡¯ll even bring Lucy along, so they aren¡¯t intimidated.¡±


    Jonas grinned, and for a second, Isa¡¯s heart fluttered. He really was a pretty young man, even with new injuries marring his face. He looked good with scars, but he still was smooth-skinned and young. He too, was in a state of in between.


    ¡°Fantastic! And how¡¯ve you been, Isa? I feel like we don¡¯t get to see each other as often.¡± He looked hopeful.


    Isa rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s because you moon over me anytime we¡¯re together. Spend more time with Cullen. He likes and wants you. Also, get control over your men. One of the new guys assaulted Rachael after hours, and she tried to cover it up out of fear. Do something about it, or I will.¡±  Without another word, she stomped away, leaving him looking surprised and hurt. Maybe it would drive the point home and he¡¯d stay on top of things, instead of needing her to inform him.


    The act of walking away put her in a better mood, and made the rest of her rounds easier. The food and drink were ready, overseen by people they vetted carefully. There¡¯d be no more poisonings after Samantha barely survived it. The weapons lockers were all staffed by two men, and the fifty men and women who would perform tonight were made up and ready to play, but Isa continued to obsessively stalk around, looking for problems for another hour.


    Instead, she found people dancing, kissing, and laughing. Clients feasted on grapes fed to them by beautiful women, and plenty of couples shared the massive tubs, now cooled to stave off the summer heat, lingering even at night. The guards were mostly behaved and unobtrusive, and the clients well-pleased.


    It was almost frustrating. Isa hated feeling like she could drop her guard. It never ended well, but of all of their problems, very little of it was at the Moonlit Garden. Eventually, she did relax and allowed herself a drink and some quiet in Quentin¡¯s house, where Lucy knew to get her.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Her lover found her lazing on the lounger under the skylight, looking up at the stars. She pretended not to see him at first, and instead just took another sip of wine and kept her eyes skyward, until he stepped into the light.


    ¡°It¡¯s odd to see you not hovering over people and barking orders,¡± said Quentin, arms crossed over his chest. ¡°You getting soft, Isa?¡±


    Isa tilted her head towards him. He wore a soft, barely perceptible smile that made her want to hit him before she gave in and kissed him. ¡°I¡¯m too good at my job. There¡¯s nothing for me to currently worry about, and both Razia and Lucy are around in case things get too hairy. Unlike you. How many people did you have to torture today?¡±


    ¡°Depends on your definition of torture,¡± he said airily, sitting down on the edge of the couch. He put his hand on her thigh and slid it up her dress. ¡°I¡¯d say only one, but the night is still young.¡±


    Isa clamped her legs together, trapping his hand. She finished off her wine and set the goblet on the tiled floor. ¡°Do you really think I¡¯d let you touch me after a day of being a bastard? You¡¯re going to at least need to wash up first, you filthy beast.¡±


    The words no longer had any heat in them, only the tried and true playfulness of their dance. His hand circled around her leg and squeezed it, hard enough to remind her of his strength, soft enough to let her object and pull away. She didn¡¯t, and a familiar thrill went through her.


    ¡°I thought you liked it when I¡¯m filthy,¡± said Quentin as he leaned down to kiss her.


    Isa turned her head, and he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. Her entire body came to life, electrified and in tune with her rising heartbeat. A deep ache settled in her stomach as his lips brushed over her skin, and then his teeth as he bit down. She buried her hand in his short hair and pulled on it, hard enough to hurt and pull him away.


    ¡°I like it when you¡¯re dirty¡­¡± she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his jaw. ¡°And firm.¡± Another kiss. ¡°But not¡­¡± She tugged harder and then violently shoved his head away. ¡°Not when your hands are unclean. And I can smell blood on you. How rough was it today?¡±


    He sighed but relented for the moment. ¡°I saw six total people, and I had to persuade half of them. Three fell in line, two needed convincing but said yes, and I¡¯m going to try again in a couple days for the Bartle family. That¡¯s probably why you smell blood. Their son attacked me, and I had to teach him some manners. Gently,¡± he added before she could protest.


    ¡°Define gently, if you want to have a shade¡¯s chance in hell of touching me.¡±


    Quentin showed her his right palm. ¡°He stabbed me in the hand. I did the same thing back, and then gave him some money to get dinner after he gets it looked at. I¡¯ll have you know I didn¡¯t raise my voice once. And I washed several times, too.¡±


    His tone was light, flippant even, but it still carried the undercurrent of honesty Quentin always had. It was one of his best and worst qualities, and would make him a more fair ruler, and a weaker one for it. Isa knew well the balancing act he had to maintain in order to run the Boulevard without faltering. It was her role, she figured, of making sure he didn¡¯t get too big for himself.


    ¡°Mm. I suppose that has to be good enough,¡± Isa finally said. She raised a hand for him to help her up.


    Quentin ignored it, and instead slid both hands underneath her and scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. Isa didn¡¯t have to feign her scream of surprise as she clutched him for stability. He wore an insufferable smirk as he held her cradled against him, even though she was only a few inches shorter than him and not very light.


    ¡°Bastard,¡± she muttered as she clutched him. He smiled in his soft, infuriating way before kissing her.


    It started softer than usual, like a soft sigh of relief before Isa nipped at his lip and sparked the flame. Quentin attacked her mouth with his as he brought her over to his bedroom and threw her on the bed. She bounced and had just enough time to move before he joined her on the bed and covered her body with his.


    He trapped her there, and she pretended to fight back, squirming and pushing until he took her wrists in his and pinned them above her head. Isa felt his growing excitement brushing up against hers. Dimly, in the back of her mind, the music in the courtyard trickled in, along with the sounds of laughter and a moan.


    Everyone else was having fun. Why shouldn¡¯t she? Isa surrendered and exposed her neck. Quentin latched on, the joy of his touch compounded with just a tiny taste of pain. She wanted this. She needed this. She wrapped her legs around his waist and spurred him on.


    An hour later, they lay in a tangle of limbs, with Isa on top of Quentin and listening to his steady heartbeat as he breathed. The soreness was welcome, but now she desperately wanted a bath. She was in the process of debating inviting Quentin for a soak when he sighed again.


    ¡°What?¡± Isa demanded, raising up enough to glare at him. ¡°Now that the fun¡¯s over, the darkness is back and haunting you? Tell it to fuck off and enjoy the afterglow more.¡±


    Quentin laughed and brushed a strand of silky black hair back behind her ear. His slow, even breathing was hypnotic, and even with her feigned irritation, it threatened to lull her to a light doze. ¡°Nothing like that. Just wishing that I had more time like this. I worry, sometimes, about being too busy for you and Razia. To keep you both happy.¡±


    And there it was, right on time. Isa sighed back and rested her head against his shoulder. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about me. I¡¯m fine. And we both know Razia will get her satisfaction anywhere, so long as it doesn¡¯t bother you. Besides, we both know I need recovery time, if it¡¯s at all satisfying.¡±


    He chuckled, and the rumble made her tingle, although she¡¯d never admit it. She¡¯d been telling the truth, and the soreness after was always worth it. Boys like Jonas could be fun, but they didn¡¯t know what she wanted and needed.


    She nudged him again, and said, ¡°So, why don¡¯t you spend the rest of the night in here? I¡¯ll get more wine, we can take a bath, and tomorrow you can go back to worrying about all the crap that gets in the way of all the fun. Let that other bitch deal with things for a night.¡±


    Quentin made a thoughtful, hopeful face. ¡°You don¡¯t have to twist my arm. Razia, who does not appreciate being called the other bitch, by the way, can handle it.¡±


    Isa shrugged and sat up, sliding off of him and onto his plush bed. ¡°She can also handle being called the other bitch. Get your ass up and be ready to pamper me.¡±


    ¡°As you command,¡± he said, chuckling. They were both on their feet and about to kiss again when there was a knock at the door. They shared a look of frustration before Quentin called out, ¡°Yes?¡±


    The door opened, and Lucy peeked her head inside. She didn¡¯t look surprised or bothered by their nudity, and neither of them bothered to cover up. ¡°Mr. Q? There¡¯s someone here to see you.¡±


    Isa crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled like it was his fault. ¡°Of course there is. Right when it¡¯s my turn to relax and have fun.¡±


    Quentin had the good grace to look apologetic. To Lucy, he asked, ¡°Who is it?¡±


    The teen hesitated for a second. ¡°The Supreme Arbiter,¡± she said. ¡°He told me it¡¯s important. Should I give it a few minutes and let him inside?¡±


    He winced, and Isa knew he was already gone. She shoved him towards the door, and then paused and threw his clothes at him. ¡°Go deal with it and then come back to me. If you¡¯re gone all night, you can sleep outside.¡±


    With a bemused look, he said, ¡°But you have your own room that doesn¡¯t involve me. Why would I sleep outside?¡±


    ¡°Because I told you to, obviously.¡± Isa grabbed her own silks and began winding them around her chest, working her way down. ¡°Go, get business done. The Supreme Arbiter wouldn¡¯t show his face here if it wasn¡¯t important.¡±


    Quentin nodded. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll be back soon, I promise.¡± He leaned over to kiss her forehead, and Isa pretended to tolerate it and not actively desire it or him. She shoved him again, and he stumbled past a patient Lucy, who waited in the doorway.


    When it was just the two of them, she said, ¡°Sorry for interrupting you, Isa. Did you have fun?¡±


    Isa smirked, her dark features turning downright wicked. ¡°What do you think, Lucy? You missing some of the fun?¡±


    The pale girl didn¡¯t flush, but she did look away. Out of all the people at the Moonlit Garden, Isa teased her the least, but that didn¡¯t mean she got away unscathed. Especially not when she saw the way Lucy looked at them sometimes. It wasn¡¯t petty jealousy, but it felt like gentle envy. It wasn¡¯t the girl¡¯s fault that Isa was territorial and liked to stake her claim.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± she finally answered with a crooked half-smile. ¡°It¡¯s just nice to see you happy. You look like you needed this, and I¡¯m glad for that.¡±


    Isa was thrown for a second, but she hid it under dark laughter. ¡°I guess sometimes we really do just need a good fucking in order to keep our heads on straight. Anything else happen during my break?¡±


    Lucy thought about it for a second. ¡°Samantha showed up, and is having a few drinks with people!¡±


    Her mood, already fairly positive, shot up. ¡°She¡¯s doing well? It¡¯s been a couple weeks,¡± Isa said.


    ¡°She¡¯s able to speak a little easier now. They found a potion that¡¯s undoing some of the damage!¡± Lucy¡¯s bright blue eyes sparkled, even in the dim bedroom light.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Isa, ¡°I must go say hi and make sure our dear Sam really is on the mend. Shall we?¡± She offered her arm to Lucy, and they left Quentin¡¯s bedroom and headed for the garden, doing their best to not disturb him or the Supreme Arbiter on their way out.


    The eternal party greeted Isa, and this time she let herself lean into it and relax. The music was sweet, the wine flowed, and the dance continued. Sometimes, it was okay to enjoy it and not worry about life.


    There was no telling when things would get more complicated.