“Who did it?”
Garth hesitated for a moment.
“Go on.”
“The Grand Master and Leonovit, the cousin of Kirlen, Master of Bolk.”
Jimak cackled softly.
“My, my, our vengeance does aim high.”
“It was several moons after Festival five years ago. Leonovit and I fought. He had taken my sister against her will. When I started to best him several of his groveling fighters jumped me from behind. I was taken to the Grand Master and charged with breaking the peace and as punishment my eye was taken, my satchel stripped, and I was driven out.”
“So now you’ve come back for revenge.”
“Something like that.”
“Why didn’t anyone remember you today? Naru has served the House of Bolk for decades.”
“Do you remember the number of first-rank fighters, who are hanin without House, whom you have destroyed or maimed in your time?”
Jimak chuckled softly.
“They are like noisome flies.”
“I’m forgotten, but I have not forgotten.”
“So why me?”
“Why not? I know you like these things.” Garth pointed at the treasure strewn across the table. “I can earn you more. I can earn you more in the arena, I can earn you more in commissions once Festival is done. And I can bring damage to a rival House. I’ve already done that for you today.”
“You betrayed Tulan and the House of Kestha.”
“That fag pig?” Garth snorted with disdain.
Jimak looked up at Garth.
“He is a fellow House Master. I should cut your tongue out for that.”
“And if you did and offered it to him, he’d devour it uncooked. He is a pig, a man without breeding, disgusting.”
Jimak leaned back in his chair and a thin, reedy chuckle escaped him.
Garth reached into his tunic, pulled out a small leather bag, and tossed it on the table.
Jimak stared at it for a moment and then eagerly tore the pouch open. He drew out a single ruby and held it near the lamplight, studying it intently.
“As long as I have the shelter of this House and can wear its livery I have no need for such things. Consider it an offering of respect, a payment to the pension fund for aging fighters who refuse to get themselves killed and out of the way. I should add I do have more, but they are hidden away in a place I alone know. If things work out well, they can be added to the fund in due time.”
Jimak, not even bothering to look at Garth, simply nodded his head, his attention still focused on the ruby.
“Exquisite, flawless.”
“Are we agreed then?”
”Yes, yes,” Jimak said absently. “For the pension fund. You can be initiated on the morning of Festival.”
He quickly looked up.
“You said you have more?”
Garth nodded and Jimak, smiling, returned to his examination of the gem. Garth waited for a moment but Jimak said nothing more. Bowing low, Garth withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him. The last sight of the House Master was of him still bent over the lamp, studying the ruby as if it were a book of arcane knowledge containing spells yet unheard of.
“Master.”
Garth turned and saw Hammen lingering in the shadows, motioning for him to come over. Hammen pulled Garth into the alcove where he had been waiting.
“While you were resting earlier I decided to take a little walk.”
“Fleshpot hunting now that we have money.”
“No, damn it. Back to my home. I felt the need to get a little information; after all, I do have a brotherhood to run, even while I’m out getting in trouble with you. Also, I had this sudden feeling that something terrible had happened.”
“What?”
Hammen looked away for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching, and then he looked back up, his rheumy eyes clouded with tears.
“They were all dead. All of them dead.”
“What happened?” This time his tone was flat, cold, and distant.
“The Grand Master. I should have known better. Somehow I sensed something was wrong when I hit the alley. It was too quiet, as if even the rats had gone into hiding. The door was ajar and I went in.” He paused for a moment, breathing hard. “They were all dead.
“Rico, Matu, Evanual, old legless Nahatkim, all of them dead. My other brothers gone. I hope they escaped but somehow I know they didn’t and were taken. Those they left behind were tortured and their heads cut off and…” His voice trailed off.
“You were chased?”
Hammen nodded.
“Someone came in the door behind me. I darted to the back of our shack, going down our sewer hole.”
“I can smell that.”
“I made my way back here, but I think they followed me. I tried to lose them in the sewers. I finally had to come back here, coming out where I knew there was an entry into this House. They were closing in.”
Garth nodded slowly.
“Damn you, why did you come back?” Hammen snarled angrily.
Garth looked around and then pulled Hammen deeper into the alcove.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Garth whispered.
“You know damn well what I mean. My friends, all of them dead because of you.”
“You’re mistaken. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garth said quietly. “But let me ask this. You’ve lost friends before, haven’t you?”
Hammen looked up at Garth, the tears streaking down his filthy cheeks, tracing twin lines of white.
“Yes, long ago, another life. I tried to forget and they went to the land of the dead, where I thought they all would stay.”
He looked up angrily at Garth.
“None of us can forget.”
“And now they’re dead.”
Garth reached out and put a gentle hand on Hammen’s shoulder.
“Believe me, Hammen, if I had known your friends were in danger, I would have done something. I didn’t think the arm of the Grand Master would reach that far. Something is pushing him and he is acting. I expected that, but not that he would reach toward you.”
“Through me he reached you nevertheless.”
“I think something needs to be done,” Garth said coldly and, grabbing hold of Hammen, he started down the long corridor. “The pot needs to be stirred a bit more.”
“What do you mean he’s alive?”
Tulan spit out the half-chewed hunk of boiled squid that he had been working on and picked up a goblet of wine.
“Just that,” Uriah said quietly. “He’s alive.”
“Impossible. Brown claims they killed him and several of my people saw him explode in a cloud of green smoke.”
“Could the smoke not have been a masking spell?”
Tulan tossed down the wine and slammed the goblet on the table, the fine crystalline stem shattering.
“We spotted his servant, who was reported dead as well. If he is alive, then I think that until we find a body, we must assume that One-eye is alive.”
Tulan tossed the broken goblet to the floor, cursing as he sucked on a cut to his grease-coated finger.
“Then if he’s alive, where is he?”
“We think with Jimak.”
“Purple! Those lowborn scum.” Tulan roared with laughter and slapped his thigh.
“I’d sooner cut my own throat or, worse yet, starve to death before I’d go to those maggot-born scum.”
“Nevertheless, we think he’s there.”
Tulan suddenly grew serious.
“Why?” he asked softly as if talking to himself.
“Precisely. I think it safe to assume you wouldn’t have punished him for what happened today. Rather you’d reward him.”
“Damn right. One against twelve, and on top of that rearranging Naru’s jewels the way he did. Damn, he’ll be a wonder in the arena.”
“But he deserted you. You gave him shelter, removed from him the onus of being a hanin, and this is how he pays you back.”
Tulan nodded meditatively.
“So what is his game?” Uriah asked.
Tulan looked across the table at the diminutive servant of the Grand Master.