Dantes stayed off the main paths, but from what he could see through the rats he had watching behind him the Orc’s had ceased their assault in the Maw itself and started consolidating all of the goods, beating the new prisoners, and generally asserting their newfound dominance. Still, he stayed cautious, weaving through those lesser known passages until he made it back to Collared territory.
There were more than a dozen Collared standing guard, most of them broad and muscular adherents of Merle’s fitness philosophy. Dantes was waved through with serious nods. In the center of the space the goods the Collared had managed to gather were being sorted. They seemed to have had a good haul, which was good considering it may need to last a long time. He heard a voice call from one of the upper chambers as he entered the space proper.
“Dantes, come up!” said Merle, gesturing for him to approach.
Dantes complied, seeing that Merle was standing with Orebus.
“Orebus here says you warned him about the Orcs.”
Dantes nodded.
“Thank you. With your warning and his quick thinking we actually managed to salvage something out of this.” He sighed and ran a muscular hand from the top of his forehead all the way down his long white beard. “The Orcs have always been aggressive, but I never realized how much the Elves and Dwarves held them in line. Now they’ve got the numbers, the supplies, and very few checks on their power.”
Dantes nodded along as Merle spoke. There were some obvious answers to the problem in his mind. The Collared working with the remnants of the dwarves, the consortium, and the gangs to restore things to the previous status quo being the most obvious, but Merle and his Collared had always taken a more separate approach, their attitudes from the academy bleeding into their time in the Pit. If Dantes made the suggestion, it wouldn’t necessarily amount to much, Merle would likely have to come to the conclusion himself, or the Consortium might approach him if they couldn’t work things out from their own angle.
“Did you have any indication of what the Orcs were planning that before you went to the supply drop?” asked Merle.
Dantes shook his head. “No. I’d heard they’d been ramping things up, looking to expand in different ways, and raiding the dwarves. I figured something bigger might go down, didn’t know this would be it.”
Merle shook his head. “Well, thanks to the warning and the deal we made with the Consortium, we should be able to weather this. Thank you Dantes.”
Dantes nodded, and walked away from him. In his mind the Collared were actually in a better position than ever before. Even if the Orcs controlled every single supply drop from this point forward, the Collared as they were had become the second largest gang by default. Though technically the Kobolds or Consortium may be larger, their numbers were just much harder to track. All by virtue of proximity and usefulness to Dantes, though they likely didn’t realize that was the reason.
He considered the moves he could make against the orcs, but hesitated to make any real choices or set firm paths in his mind. He had only just started his new venture with the Consortium, and wanted to pocket a healthy amount of profit before things got more disruptive. The Orc’s power play may even be beneficial to him. With the average person more desperate for supplies, his own access to them gave him a greater control of the market. Aside from that, Orcs liked to drink, and if the Consortium was still doing good business with them, that sounded like business security for Dantes. The only possible problem was the favor he owed Syn, and how to handle it.
He moved over to where Wane was leaning against his cell, watching the supplies get sorted, seeming to watch certain items closely, minding who was picking up what.
“Seeing who to prioritize inviting to your next dice game?”
Wane winked. “Something like that. If you’re looking for Tel, he’s passed out. Wore himself to the bone apparently. Spares me having to hear him talk about it though.”
“Not looking for him today. Looking for you. I’m guessing the Orcs didn’t set up a meet yet?”
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Wane’s eyebrows furrowed. “The strange thing, they did.”
Dantes leaned against the wall next to him. “When?”
“In two weeks at the undermarket, the Consortium bar there. The meet’s with Ryker, he’s up there, third or fourth to the boss.”
“I wouldn’t have expected them to set a meeting at all with what they just did.”
“The impression I got was that they like you. They thought a meeting with you was worth it. Makes sense, they and the Elves had always been at each other’s throats before.”
Dantes nodded, and reached into one of the pockets of his jacket to pull out a leather flask, handing it to Wane. “For your trouble.”
Wane nodded, slipping the flask into a pocket, and Dantes started to walk out of their territory, when he heard some exclamations from the other side of it. He turned around and saw a large crowd gathering. Curious, he wandered over and stood at its edge, eventually he was able to see that they were gathered around a thoroughly beaten and bloodied Pillion. He suppressed a smile.
“What happened? Was it the Orcs?” asked one of Merle’s lieutenants.
Pillion shook his head. “No clue. Three guys with cloth wrapped around their faces. I was just in the market, having a drink since that new stuff is such swill. I walked through an alley and next thing I know I’m getting the shit beaten out of me. They took my weed, some coin I had, my fucking shoes! It’s not like they’d be able to wear them.”
Dantes smirked, he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe they needed to shoe a skitterling and your boots were the perfect fit… Guess they’d need to rob you two more times to have enough though.”
Pillion attempted a rude gesture at Dantes, but winced and grasped his hand.
Dantes got a few glares for his comment, so he held up his hands and backed away from the group, which had shed by more than half when everyone realized that the attack hadn’t involved the Orcs. Those few that stayed, Dantes was sure, did so out of obligation, more than anything. He supposed it was possible for Pillion to have friends, but only in the same way that it was possible for him to fly a dragon out of the Pit.
He moved back out into the tunnels and started on his way back to his own piece of the outskirts. He’d have to make sure to give the Shadow Cats some actual work. The beating seemed to have been expertly delivered, and stealing the shoes was a delightful touch. Most importantly, they hadn’t been identified, and didn’t do anything to tie it back to him. He’d had a few options in mind for if they had failed in that instance, most of them ending very unfortunately for them, but their success saved him the trouble, and brightened an otherwise complicated day.
He made it back to his cave, letting Jacopo out of his jacket where instead of moving to his bed, or the food storage, he began making his way out of the cave.
“Got a date?” asked Dantes sitting down.
“Mating, yes. Also, murder. Cousin once stole food from me. Feel… compelled to harm him.”
“Makes sense to me. Need a hand? I certainly owe you for Iron.”
He shook his head. “You can’t fit where I would need. Thank you though.”
Dantes nodded, and Jacopo began weaving through the Pit to his cousin. They were rubbing off on one another, in a good way as far as Dantes figured. He considered having Jacopo go to spy on the Orcs ahead of the meet, but he didn’t feel as much of a need for skullduggery with them. The Orcs weren’t stupid, but they were direct. He was fairly certain he could figure out their intentions without relying on his abilities. Besides which, he wanted to see what happened when the ratmark favor filled completely. It slowed down the further it filled up, and he was at three and half full fangs. He wasn’t certain, but he felt instinctively that something would happen once it was completely filled, and he wanted to know what that was.
Two weeks until his meeting with Ryker. Two weeks to focus on collecting fruit, figuring out what to do with the Shadow Cats, after making them change their name which was an obvious priority. Two weeks to climb, to spy with rats and roaches, to plot with Syn, and to collect his pay from the booze run he’d made nearly self-sufficient. He flexed his fingers, tightening and loosening his grip. It wasn’t enough. He needed to get out. He needed to be back in Rendhold. Playing power politics in a pit that didn’t matter, it was a waste of time. For just a moment the frustration of it boiled over in him. He flexed his hands more, and clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth rip into flesh, and his hands clawing into his cousin's soft underbelly. Once the deed was done, he kept eating. No sense letting the meat go to waste.
Dantes shook his head, clearing his connection to Jacopo, still tasting copper in his mouth. He loosened his grip and let out a slow breath. Patience. He’d already made it five years, he could handle waiting a bit longer.