7

Rufi leapt out of the carriage and looked up and down the street, one hand on his chest just a few inches from the concealed tomahawk holstered under his arm. When he was satisfied the street was empty, he ran around to the other side of the carriage and opened the door. Sam’Sun Chaw’drak, despite his hefty bulk, moved surprisingly easy for a creature of his considerable years. He stepped down out of the cab, the whole carriage teetering under his weight, and alighted on the cobbles with only a small grunt. Sam’Sun looked so alien in this urban, backstreet setting. In his whole life, Rufi had only ever seen his uncle outside of Goblin Town on a handful of occasions. The sleeting rain had returned during their journey, but Sam’Sun refused something as Human as an umbrella. He gathered the hem of his thick cloak and held it over his head as he strode into the disused warehouse space that was to be their meeting place.

The Four Kings were the rulers of the four compass points of Valderia’s underworld. Between them, they controlled almost all of the major crime in the city, and they got a slice, directly or indirectly, of every creature’s action. If you wanted to break the law in this city, you would do it by their rules and pay their taxes or find yourself sinking to the bottom of a tarpit. The Kings were responsible for keeping a lid on the city’s crime and ensuring nothing newsworthy ever happened. Despite their agreed territorial boundaries and willingness to work together, the Kings were in no way friendly. Peace was mutually beneficial and therefore maintained. It was rare for them to ever need to meet, and if they did, they would take it in turns to host somewhere private and where no other eyes would see them. This was their first meeting in nearly three years and was to be hosted by the Gnommish Triad.

Sam’Sun swept up to the abandoned warehouse, and two almost identical Gnomes in dark suits approached him. The Triad favoured dark suits, small rapiers, and wild hair colours. They would grow their tufts of hair long, dye them obscene colours, and tie them back in ponytails. They were also fond of tattoos that depicted their ranks, although in recent times this tradition had lost favour as it had become too easy to identify high ranking members. The Gnomes barred Sam’Sun’s entry to the warehouse and gave him a pair of deep bows.

“Sam’Sun sir,” the Gnome on the left with bright blue hair said. “The Yano thanks you most graciously for your attendance. If you would please, sir, we would check for weapons.”

Sam’Sun nodded and stepped to one side. There was no chance any creature would ever pat down one of the Four Kings. Rufi stepped forward and unholstered his tomahawk, took the switchblade from his pocket, and the knife from its leg holster. The Gnomes graciously accepted the weapons and then patted him down. They were almost half Rufi’s height, so he had to awkwardly bend down so they could check his jacket. Once satisfied, they pulled the doors open and welcomed them in.

Inside, the warehouse was empty apart from a small bar and a singular table with four chairs pulled up to it, a glowstone set directly above it. The rest of the warehouse was bathed in darkness. Sitting at the table was a single figure, a Gnome dressed in a crisp black suit. His hair was dyed dark black, and he had a small tattoo of a five-pointed star inside a circle on the side of his head. He stood when he saw Sam’Sun and inclined his head respectfully.

“Sam’Sun Gana,” the Gnome said, using the Gnommish term of respect for an elder male.

“Yano,” Sam’Sun returned bow with a small nod of his own head.

“Please.” The Yano indicated for Sam’Sun to sit down.

Rufi took two strides to get in front of Sam’Sun and pulled the chair out for him. Sam’Sun grunted his thanks.

“You remember my nephew, Ruf’Gar.”

“Of course,” the Yano looked Rufi up and down. “You had an eventful night last night, I understand.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Rufi said, keeping his face carefully neutral despite wanting to snarl in fury at himself.

Of course the pub he had fought the Troll in last night would have been under Gnommish control. And of course Uncle Sam had to have used the Gnomes to pull some strings with the police since it was in the Northern boroughs. Rufi hated making himself look like a fool, especially in front of creatures he hoped to one day share a table with. Backing away with a respectful bow, Rufi took his place in the shadows behind Uncle Sam.

The Yano waved a finger, and another dark-suited Gnome appeared and handed him a golden bottle with a round bottom. It had an intricate carving of a dragon on it and a label that Rufi couldn’t read.

“Kurrhara wine, from the vineyards of my home,” the Yano explained. His voice still held the accent of the Gnomes, but he spoke carefully and with great eloquence. Only Gnomes with expensive educations in foreign lands spoke Forreste so well. “Made from grapes that only grow once a decade. This bottle has been maturing since before either of us were born.”

The Yano poured the amber coloured wine into small fluted glasses with no stems. He placed the bottle down gently and then pushed a glass across the table to Sam’Sun with both hands. Sam’Sun took the glass in his massive hand, using only his index finger and thumb, and took a small sip.

“Delightful,” he growled.

“A good wine is much like a good relationship,” the Yano mused, rolling the glass in the light. “Left to mature without too much outside interference creates a beautiful bond and a wonderful wine.”

He sipped and closed his eyes.

“I can almost smell my home. Feel it. Hear the flowing waters and the chirping of the lake birds. So close yet so far away.”

Sam’Sun nodded in understanding.

“Has that business with Terabor been settled?” the Yano asked with his eyes still shut.

“It is ongoing, but Hali Har assures me we will have a resolution soon,” Sam’Sun replied, his glass back on the table, barely touched.

“Good. If you need my assistance, the Triad has many friends in Terabor. We would be happy to assist.”

“In exchange for?”

“Must there be an exchange?”

Sam’Sun just looked at him silently.

“The Republic has certain interests that may create conflict. Things have… shifted and the Royal family is interested in strengthening bonds with the Mountains.”

Sam’Sun thought about this, his laconic eyes giving nothing away.

“This is a matter we will discuss.”

The Yano nodded his head and refilled his glass.

Rufi heard the sound of another horse pulling up. There was a slight commotion at the doors before they were thrown open, and malevolence incarnated stalked into the warehouse.

“Bill,” the Yano said, a forced smile on his face.

Bill ‘The Landlord’ Graves stomped into the warehouse, bringing an ephemeral cold with him. Bill was tall for a Human. He was lithe and powerfully built around his shoulders and upper back. He had a long face with an elegant nose made crooked by frequent breaks. A scar ran through his high forehead, through his eyebrow, and across his cheek. The hair on his temples had started to grey. Bill’s eyes were the things that every creature who met him remembered. They were glacier blue and devoid of any compassion or empathy. They were two frozen chips of malice that promised violence without hesitation. He wore a long, navy coloured coat, a simple homespun vest, and a workman's shirt without the collar. Behind him came a bald headed man with a mouthful of gleaming gold teeth. Rufi narrowed his eyes at the thug. The last time he had seen Golden, Rufi was chained up and hanging from a meat warehouse's ceiling, and Golden had taken great pleasure in beating him like a pinata.

“Not interrupting the tea party, am I?” Bill said, his voice a guttural growl that emanated from deep in his chest.

“Please, have a seat,” the Yano said, indicating the chair opposite Sam’Sun.

Bill stalked around to his side of the table and looked at Sam’Sun with a mocking smile on his face.

“Hello Sam, good to see you.”

“And you, Bill.” Sam’Sun replied, not raising his eyes to acknowledge Bill.

Bill threw himself into his seat and looked from the Yano to Sam’Sun like an animal assessing which one to devour first. The Yano serenely poured another glass of wine and offered it to Bill.

“This is Kurrhara wine, from my homeland. It is…”

The Yano didn’t get a chance to finish speaking before Bill picked up the glass and downed it in one.

“Hmmm, it’s lovely. I’m not usually a fan of the foreign swill but that is nice. Bit too sweet.” He slid his glass back to the Yano for a refill like he was a bartender.

The Yano, his face carefully composed, poured another glass and slid it back to Bill who ignored it.

“Shall we get down to business?" I hate the smell this far up North,” he grunted, leaning back in his chair.

“We are not yet gathered,” the Yano said.

“So? The important ones are here, aren’t they?” Bill said, his cold eyes locked on the Yano.

“We will observe the rules,” Sam’Sun said.

"Oh, will we?” Bill growled, pushing his chair back, the legs screeching along the floor, as he leaned forward and glowered at Sam’Sun.

“Yes.” Sam’Sun met his gaze with cool, unbothered eyes.

Rufi felt the tension crackle in the air. His muscles tightened and his fists clenched at his side. He wanted nothing more than to tear across the room and rip Bill’s face open. Behind The Landlord, he saw Golden’s teeth glimmering. He would be next. Rufi would yank everyone of those ridiculous golden teeth out of his head.

“Fine,” Bill said with a sniff, leaning back, the tension disappearing. “Just thought that we were all busy men.”

Sam’Sun held his gaze for a moment longer. He looked at Bill like one would look at a disobedient child.

The door opened again, and two more people entered. The first was Wesley the Weasel. He was a man of average height, average looks, and a below average dress sense. He was wearing a tan bowler hat with a matching tan trench coat, under which he wore a brown corduroy suit with matching tie. He had a verminous, twitchy little face with a sharp pointed moustache that looked like a rat’s whiskers. Behind him came a young woman. She couldn’t have been older than her early twenties. She was just a touch shorter than Wally. She had light brown hair and eyes, olive coloured skin, and a bright white toothed smile. She was dressed simply in a knee length black dress that flattered the small amount of curves that she had and a silken scarf draped around her back and across the crooks of her elbows.

“Sorry we’re late,” Wesley said, his nose twitching. “Traffic’s a nightmare with all this rain.” Wesley walked up to the table and thrust his hand at each of the Kings.

“Bill, you’re looking well.”

“Wesley,” Bill shook his hand and squeezed harder than was necessary.

“Yano, love the suit you're looking sharp as always.”

“Wesley.” Yano gave his hand an efficient pump up and down.

“Sam’Sun, good to see you again.”

Sam’Sun grunted, his hand swallowing Wesley’s, his grip firm but not painful.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“It’s been too long. We should do this more often. Maybe on more of a social occasion? You should all come down to the Waca Lounge. We got the best booze and entertainment in the whole city. And our chefs? It’s a miracle I haven’t doubled in size already!” Wesley chattered, laughing and patting his growing stomach.

“Wesley sweetheart,” the young girl said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you get me a drink and let us get on?”

“Oh right, yeah, gotcha. What’s on tap, Yano?”

“A beautiful wine from my home country.”

“Oooh sounds delightful. I’ll grab a couple of glasses!” Wesley wandered off to the small bar in the corner of the room while the girl sighed and sat down in the fourth and final seat. She rested her face in her hands, her elbows on the table, and gave each of the Kings a little smile.

“Bill.”

“Delilah.”

“Yano.”

“Ms Delilah.”

“Sam’Sun.”

“Delilah, niece, you look well.”

“Thank you, Sam. And let me say, I was greatly concerned when I heard about your incarceration, and so were my brothers.”

“Suppose they'd be empathetic, wouldn't they?” Bill said, a nasty smile playing on his lips.

Delilah ignored his words and continued.

“But my brothers are greatly concerned about quite a few things going on in Valderia at the minute. They feel like you’re all losing your grip.”

“The twins need not be concerned,” the Yano said.

“And what would they even know about what’s going on out here?” Bill growled, leaning forward and tapping his finger on the table.

"They know a great many things, Bill. I'm even surprised by it sometimes. Oh, Yano, that thing has been taken care of. You don’t need to worry about your snitch problem anymore.” She flashed the Yano a sweet smile before looking back at Bill. “Everyone ends up in Black Water eventually, Bill.”

Bill curled his lip but left the threat unanswered. Bill might be halfway a psychotic but even he would hesitate before tangling with the Taverly Twins. The Twins and their firm were perhaps the most notorious Villains in Valderia. They were the stuff of legend. Bill commanded the largest force of fighting men. Sam’Sun was a revolutionary and community leader who just happened to have an army of Goblin warriors at his beck and call. The Yano was the underworld representative to the Gnommish Royal family and their Republic with near unlimited resources at his disposal. But the Taverly Twins? They were just two lads from Bowery Street that had fought wars against the entire East End with only a handful of their childhood friends at their side. Even scarier, they won. They had taken on all comers and bullied the entire East End into submission, and they had held off the rest of the Kings from poaching their territory. No one willingly ever messed with the Twins, and them being locked in Black Water for attempted murder didn’t change that.

“You see, since my brothers have gone inside, you two have almost caused a species war,” she said, looking at Sam’Sun and Bill. “Sam’Sun, you were arrested. And now we’re making headlines with a Bad Batch of burn killing off our customer base. From where they are, things look out of control.”

“It’s really not good,” Wesley said, coming back with a drink for Delilah. “The Twins are not happy… and neither am I. This shit is bad for business. I can’t have actresses OD’ing and all that other shit, it kills the mood, people don’t wanna party with black bloody banners hanging everywhere.”

“Thank you Wesley, I was just getting to that.” Delilah gave him another small smile that never quite reached her eyes.

“Of course, sweetie.” Wesley gave her a nervous smile and then stepped back into the shadows with the other seconds.

"Well, let’s get down to business then,” Bill said. “Just what fucking game are you playing Yano?”

“There is no game, Bill.” the Yano responded tersely.

“It’s all over the papers. My man in parliament is shitting feathers. The Mayor’s involved.” Bill said.

“The police are also under pressure,” Sam’Sun said. “They have organised a new drug enforcement squad. They will be looking for someone to hang for this.”

“This is not my product,” the Yano said firmly.

“Mate, all the Burn comes from you. If it ain’t yours, then who’s is it?” Bill said.

“You know we only buy from you Yano,” Delilah said. “That’s the deal. So any Burn on our streets has come from you.”

The Yano sighed and then waved a finger to his second. The Gnome rushed forward and placed a parcel on the table. He unwrapped it and laid it bare. In front of them was a quarter kilo of black paste, compressed into a block.

“This is it,” Yano said, his mouth curling in distaste. “This is the so called ‘Bad Batch’.”

Bill and Delilah looked at it while Sam’Sun watched the Yano.

“Looks like Burn to me,” Bill said.

“Because you just sell it, you don’t know it. Look at the red and orange hairs. My Burn has no impurities like this.” Yano waved his finger again, and another package was placed on the table. “This is my Burn. You see how it is pure black. How the paste isn’t sticky.” He took a little ball and rolled it in his fingers. “This swill here, is sticky, and impure, and mixed with who knows what. It does not even smell right. That is what is killing the users. Not my product.”

Delilah took the ball from Yano and rolled it thoughtfully in her fingers.

“So you’re saying someone else has been selling Burn in Valderia without permission?” Delilah asked.

Rufi felt his heart quicken and sweat drip down his back.

“Worse,” the Yano said. “Someone has smuggled Burn into the city and sold it wholesale.”

“Bullshit,” Bill said. “How’s it got into the hands of dealers in all of our territories then?”

“Because someone in this city is involved. Someone bought the wholesale package, broke it down, and sold it to dealers all over the city,” Yano said, ire rising in his usually neutral voice.

“Who else could grow and smuggle Burn other than you?” Delilah asked.

“And who else has enough connections in the drug game to sell that much weight other than you?” Bill said accusingly.

Rufi’s mouth went dry. It couldn’t be. From where he stood though, he was sure he recognised the wrapping on the impure Burn package.

“It was not my organisation,” the Yano said firmly. “Why would I sell a tainted product that is killing the users? This is bad for business.”

“Very fucking bad,” Bill said.

“Not only is it drawing attention, and not only is it killing off the customer base, but it’s also putting people off Burn altogether. All of my dealers are light this week because people are scared and staying away.” Delilah said.

“Listen, we’re not saying you done it deliberately,” Bill said, his tone almost reasonable. “Maybe you didn’t know it was a Bad Batch. Mistakes happen.”

“This is not my product!” The Yano slammed his hand on the table.

Bill's eyes narrowed, and his whole demeanour changed. He looked like he was about to come across the table and strangle the Yano. The Gnomes behind their leader shifted, their hands falling towards hidden blades. The Yano collected himself and cleared his throat.

“I assure you, Mr. Graves, this is not my product. I do not know where it has come from, but I am investigating.”

Bill snorted and sat back.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna investigate yourself?”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Bill,” Delilah said. “If this was you or someone in your organisation, then you investigating it doesn’t seem right.”

“You don’t trust me?” the Yano said.

“I trust that you know how bad this is for your reputation and that if the opportunity to sweep it all under the carpet and avoid admitting wrongdoing comes your way, you would take it in a heartbeat. I would too,” Delilah said, picking her words carefully.

“I’ll sort it out,” Bill said. “I’ll send a couple boys who know how to ask questions.”

“Your thugs won’t be putting hands on any of my people,” the Yano warned Bill.

“Let us take care of it,” Delilah said. “The Firm has always been good at getting to the bottom of things.”

“And how do I know it wasn’t one of you?” the Yano said. “Perhaps an opportunity came your way to earn a little extra gold outside of our Accord and you did business with a third party. You don't know the product. Maybe you were given it at a discounted rate and didn’t realise you were selling deadly poison.”

The three of them looked at each other with naked suspicion.

“He’s not wrong,” Bill said, glowering at Delilah. “Ain’t like there’s many rules over East. You could have easily done a deal that cut us out and made you a heap of gold.”

“Like you wouldn’t stick a knife in any of our backs the first chance you got,” Delilah shot back at him.

Again, they were locked in a triangle of suspicious looks.

“We must have the truth,” the Yano said finally. “This is too damaging to our reputations and our business. We must find out who from outside the city sold this tainted product and who within the city distributed it. We must see to it that they are very publicly made an example of. Not only will that deter future encroachment on our business, but it will also restore confidence in the customer base if they know this product did not come from us.”

“What we need is an unbiased investigator,” Delilah said, her eyes sliding to Sam’Sun, followed by the Yano’s and then finally Bill’s cold eyes.

Sam’Sun looked at them with a bored expression.

“I do not deal in poison,” Sam’Sun said.

“Exactly,” Delilah replied. “You’re the only one with nothing to gain or lose, no matter who is found guilty. And you’re the only one we know for certain didn’t sell the Bad Batch.”

“I agree,” Yano said.

“Yeah, you and that moral fucking high horse of yours,” Bill growled.

“And whether you are involved with drugs or not, you know this level of police and media attention is no good for any of us,” the Yano said. “There’s famous actresses and children of important people dying, Sam’Sun, if those in power believe we cannot control the filth of this city… then you know what will happen to all of us.”

Sam’Sun sighed heavily. He thought deeply and in silence.

“Whatever the results of this investigation, you will all honour it?" Sam’Sun framed it like a question, but it wasn't.

“Yes,” the Yano said.

“Of course,” Delilah said.

Bill crossed his arms and gave a terse nod.

“None of my people will be responsible for meting out the punishment?”

“I will take care of this,” the Yano said.

Sam’Sun thought again.

“Then I will look into it. My Kith does not have any connection with the drug world, but we will investigate. And in the meantime, I suggest we work on removing this Bad Batch from the streets, even if that means all sales have to be shut down for a period of time. The death of that actress has taken hold of the hearts and minds of the public. They will soon turn on us if the deaths continue.”

“Lana LaRue was a star in the making,” Delilah sighed. “From some poor family in the East End. Rose up on sheer talent and the ability to give a blowjob that would make your eyes cross, apparently. Everyone loved her. She was marketed as Valderia’s sweetheart. Sam’Sun’s right, the people loved her, and her death is riling them up in a way I haven’t seen before.”

“She was a once in a generation talent,” Wesley said wistfully from the shadows. “The best ones always go young.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Delilah said, ignoring him. “Every moron with a one shot is slinging Burn nowadays, but we will see what we can do.”

“Agreed,” the Yano said.

Again, Bill simply nodded.

“Is our business concluded?” Yano asked.

The three members of the table nodded.

“Then let us depart in good health.”

Bill was the first to rise from the table. He stopped to glare at the Yano.

“This better not have been your people, Yano. Coz I’ll paint the fucking wall with the lot of you.”

Bill didn’t wait for a response. He stalked out of the warehouse, Golden close behind him. Delilah sighed and watched him go.

“Honestly, that man has no class.” Delilah rose from the table, and Yano and Sam’Sun stood.

Delilah came around the table and placed a delicate kiss on each of the Yano’s cheeks and then tiptoed to do the same to Sam’Sun. As she brushed his leathery scales with her cheek she stopped to whisper in his ear.

“The Twins won’t be away for so long, and they’re not happy with Bill.” She stood back and smiled at them both. “Come Wesley.”

“Yes dear.” Wesley appeared out of the shadows holding Delilah’s coat for her to slip back into it.

“Whatever you need Sam’Sun, just let us know.”

With that, they walked out of the warehouse.

Sam’Sun looked at the Yano, and they gave each other a small bow.

“If it was one of your people, you should make that right before I can find out,” Sam’Sun said, turning and walking out of the warehouse with Rufi behind him.

After collecting his weapons, Rufi opened the door to the carriage for his uncle and then stepped in behind him.

“What is wrong with you?” Sam’Sun growled at him.

“What?” Rufi said. He didn’t think so, but his nerves must have been playing on his face. “Just… bit of an intense meeting, that’s all. I’d love to get that fuck Bill in a locked room.”

“Forget Bill,” Sam’Sun growled. “Do you not realise what has just happened?”

“What? The investigation?”

“Ha,” Sam’Sun grunted. “They have put the knife in my hands and covered us in blood. Now I have to be the one to bring the blade down on one of them.”

“You… you think one of them sold the Bad Batch?” Rufi asked tentatively.

“Of course they did. And we will make a vindictive enemy when we out them. But if we do not, we look weak and ineffective. This will not end well.”

Rufi nodded and swallowed.

“You will lead the investigation.”

“Me?”

“Of course you. The fewer of our people that know about any of this, the better. We cannot be seen to be running errands and cleaning up the mess of the Gratzkys,” Sam’Sun said, using the Kith word for non-Goblins, directly translated as 'the soft ones.' “The level of collusion between us and them is not known to our people. They think we simply have an Accord, not that we actually have involved interests. They would not understand the need for such arrangements.”

Rufi nodded.

“And out of all of the Kith I could trust with this, you probably have the most experience with these poisons.”

Rufi didn’t say anything to that. Sam’Sun wasn’t wrong. But he also had no idea how right he was.

“I will do this for you, uncle.”

“Make sure there are no mistakes, Nephew. We cannot afford any more attention.”

“Yes uncle.”

Rufi swallowed dryly and sat back in the carriage, his mind racing. He had just been tasked by his uncle, and indirectly by the Four Kings, to lead an investigation hunting for… himself.