“Hurt boy? Sure, I saw him. What’s it worth to you? We had to dust him, High Ones forbid. Only a boy, but he bore the dust better than many-a-man I’ve seen. Got any coin? I’ll tell you the rest.”

El Sha La nodded, so weary she didn’t even realize they’d found their answer. She was already looking about the Halfking Tavern for her next target. Revel snatched a knife from the table and held it to Yellowhat’s throat.

“Tell me everything you know,” Revel demanded.

“Pay me everything you have,” Yellowhat replied, in time.

“I have your life. I’ll sell it to you.”

“For what?” The bard was utterly unmoved by the steel against his gullet. His skin and eyes were as yellow as his tattered hat. The sour stink of cane hung around him.

“His life ain’t worth a peasant’s piss,” the bartender interjected.

El Sha La turned as Sters the Hook drew his namesake deck hook from beneath the bar. At the end of three feet of black oak, a steel hook glinted in the candlelight. Sters was a big, scarred lout with a squashed nose and thick eyebrows.

“Might be, yours ain’t, either.”

Sters bounded over the bar, and the floorboards squealed under his weight. Hook in hand, Sters charged, heedless of the knife at Yellowhat’s throat. Revel shoved Hat into his path. Sters batted the bard aside and lunged.

For a big man, Sters was deceptively fast. Revel backstepped a blink before the cruel hook tore his throat out. Unscathed, Revel started forward with the knife. Sters fell for the feint. As the hookman raised his haft to block, Revel drew his sword.

“You were saying?” Revel grinned.

Sters’ thick brows knitted as he stared down the silver line of death. The barman backed away and scrambled to get a table between him and Revel. His hook was no good in a swordfight.

“I changed my mind. He’s all yours,” Sters offered.

Revel chased him right, then left. Sters scampered like a squirrel. Their eyes both fell upon the table. Sters bent to flip it over. Before he could, Revel bounded up onto the tabletop and thrust a foot of steel through Sters’ shoulder. Sters countered with a swing at Revel’s ankles. Revel leapt over the attempt, landed off-center, and toppled the table. Both men crashed to the ground.

“Fuck!” Sters clutched at his wound. Blood ran between his fingers.

Revel rose first, rapier in hand. His face was flush with anger.

“Enough!” El Sha La cried out. “Don’t kill him!”

Revel hesitated. Sters raised the broken leg of a barstool in a bloody hand. He wouldn’t go down easy.

“Sters! Stop!” El shouted.

Surprised by the sound of his name, Sters the Hook squinted at El Sha La.

“Who’s the slit?”

Revel’s jaw fell. He stepped up to run Sters through. He looked to El Sha La for the nod, but she shook her head.

“Charming as ever. We’ve met, Sters. I was with Arath when he told you to stay out of Shyton’s place.”

Sters grew paler.

“Arath? What does he want from me? I never went back to Shyton’s. I don’t fool with Arath. Oh, shit. You’re the girl. His apprentice.”

“I am. You two are going to tell me everything. Do you remember what Arath showed you?”

Sters hadn’t forgotten. He dropped the chair-leg and clutched his shoulder.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Sters spit. He wiped his hand on the front of his shirt and groped behind his back. His fingers came back bloody.

“It went through,” he groaned. “I need—” Sters couldn’t finish, couldn’t even say the word dust. The pain got worse every time.

“Who took my orb?” El demanded.

“Herk’s whipping boy,” Sters hissed.

“Herkimer Halfking? How is that wretched little pimp still alive?”

“He ain’t. Boy killed him. Almost cut his head off. Listen, miss. I’m hurt bad. I need help.”

“I can see that. What’s the boy’s name? What does he look like?”

“Rigel. Weedy little shit. Brown hair, brown eyes, short. The watch are looking for him. Uncles want him, too. You know how it goes. The Halfking is my bar now. Your friend owes me for busting up my chairs and table. I want something for my shoulder, as well.”

“How about something for your throat?” Revel piped up. He raised the point of his rapier.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“That ain’t how it works down here, you stupid shant,” Sters spat back.

El Sha La produced a silver coin and a packet of black, waxed paper from a pouch on her belt. Sters looked at both, glum about the silver and afraid of the packet.

“He almost killed me. Why are you paying him?” Revel protested.

El Sha La rolled her eyes at Revel.

“Sters, how many men do you owe?”

“Uh. Sort of lost count, miss. I just pay whoever sends leg-breakers after me. I been meaning to get it all sorted out.”

“Roughly,” El prodded.

“Better than twenty. Less than forty…I hope.”

“You should be dead, too. Revel, if you kill Sters, those twenty uncles still want their money. You’re the one they’ll try to collect from, you stupid shant.”

“How am I the shant? Your father’s richer than mine!”

“Shant don’t even know why he’s a shant. Heartbreakin’. Gimmie the stuff,” Sters demanded.

“Not yet. I need answers. The dust might kill you,” El Sha La said.

“Don’t you think I know that, you bitch? I told you everything I know. Nobody knows where the boy is.”

“I do,” Yellowhat offered.

The bard skulked outside of sword range. There was an ugly gash at his temple. He’d clipped a tabletop as Sters tossed him aside. The whole left side of Hat’s face was painted red. He seemed to feel no pain.

“Who are you?” El Sha La asked.

“Yellowhat, bard of legend. My songs ring all over the lake, miss.”

“Truly. Tell me what you know, bard.”

“I’ll take gold for it. Unless you happen to have a bit of cane on you.”

El Sha La flipped the bard a golden coin. Yellowhat plucked it out of the air, eyed it, and then set it on his knuckles. The coin danced from index to pinky and disappeared into his palm. Then, somehow, it was in his other hand. Yellowhat winked and tossed the coin back to El Sha La.

“I prefer real gold. Mage’s gold just doesn’t spend the same.” Yellowhat had a crooked grin.

Spurned by his disbelief, the coin in her palm deadened into a disc of featureless lead. El Sha La blinked in surprise.

“I’m impressed.” She handed him another coin from a different pouch. This time, Yellowhat held the gold to his ear as if he could hear its legitimacy. He nodded approval.

“Rigel and Fish left town in one of Giddy Jay’s canoes. Fish paid him one of Halfking’s rings. Part for the canoe, part for keeping his mouth shut. Fat chance of that. Guess Giddy Jay owes Fish half of that ring back. Half the Halfking’s ring, how do you like that?” Yellowhat’s voice grew singsong as he rubbed the coin between thumb and forefinger. His tongue ran over his lips as if he could taste the smoke it would buy him.

“The Fish? The lakey old graybeard swordsman?” Revel asked.

“The very same. Man without a name. Fisher, fighter, Tinkerton-flighter, stole away in a boat on an all-nighter.” Yellowhat was enjoying himself.

“What’s Fish doing with the boy? Are they related?” El asked.

“Nah. Boy probably hired him as muscle, for when the uncles come. Look, lady, I’m suffering here. Gimme the dust.” Sters held up the crimson rag.

“If they took a canoe, where can they go from here?” El Sha La pressed Yellowhat.

“Not east. Can’t sneak a canoe past the bridges. Besides, the Yomba’s running too high. They’d make better time walking.”

“They must have gone south, then. Maybe a ship is meeting them.”

“I doubt that very much, madam. The word’s out on Rigel about your bounty. Any captain leaving port would swing back. If those two are rowing south, they’d have to paddle at night and hide during the day. It’s a bad bet for a canoe. The current is strong, and the sharks are bold. One bite, no more boat.

“In truth, I don’t know where else they could row. West is the deep lake; they’d forget and founder. North is the Rakkar. There’s nothing up there but wilderness and death. And the Rapaxoris, of course. Do you think they’re going to visit the High Ones?” Yellowhat jested.

El Sha La drew a sharp breath.

“They are! Revel, we have to stop them!”

“I was joking.” Yellowhat was taken aback. “That’s suicide. The Rakkar’s rife with devils and death. The Rapaxoris is inescapable. Rigel isn’t crazy. He wouldn’t go that way.”

“I’m sure of it.” El Sha La’s stomach churned.

“Then, they’re as good as dead. The river’s cursed, and the woods are thick with beasts. Every half-century or so, some fool scrapes together a stake and sends an expedition up the Rakkar. They never come back. Poor Rigel. I bet the little bastard didn’t last a day.”

El Sha La turned to Revel. “We have to go after them.”

“Fish is a strong rower but the thief is just a boy.,” Revel reasoned. “We'll have to catch them.”

El Sha La clapped a hand around one of her skinny arms. She was no rower.

“Can’t you magic us—” Revel began.

“No!” El raised her voice.

“Fine! We’ll hire a long canoe, and rowers.”

“There isn’t an oarsman in the city stupid enough to row the Rakkar,” Yellowhat cut in. “Perhaps I understated the aspect of certain death. Let me reiterate—you will die.”

“Sters?” El asked and turned on the brute. His lips had an unhealthy blue tinge.

“Stop toying with me. I’m bleeding out,” he groaned.

“I’ll give you the dust if you’ll come with us.”

“Rather die here, thanks.”

“Yellowhat! Name your price.”

“Ha! Ha-hah!”

“I will pay both of your debts,” El offered.

Both men paused. To pay the debt of a man of Tinkerton was no small thing. Wharf rats were born owing and died in hock, leaving the mantle to their children. The scant few who’d clawed their way out from under the many thumbs of their uncles were legends.

“My debt, the dust, and twenty-five stars on top. True gold, no bargaining,” Sters said.

“Done. What about you, bard? Can you row?”

Yellowhat blinked at Sters. He peered at the coin in his palm and calculated.

“Certain death, fast or slow. I’ll smoke this up in a week. If Sters should somehow survive, succeed, and come back alive, that smug, ugly mug would haunt me ‘til my dying day. That’s more than I can bear.”

Yellowhat flipped his gold coin back to El Sha La. She caught it and threw him a quizzical look.

“I’ll take the same deal. My debt and twenty-five stars. Buy me cane with that coin. If I buy it myself, I won’t go. Ration it out. Just give me enough every day to keep the shakes away. I’ll never tire. I have no fear, so long as the cane holds.”

“It’s a deal,” El Sha La agreed.

“The DUST!” Sters bellowed. “Do both holes the same time. I can’t take it twice.”

El Sha La parted the silvery dust into two piles and mixed it with water. Sters and Yellowhat winced at the indelible burning metal reek.

“Ready?”

“Do it.”

Sters’ screams rang for blocks. He shook and howled so loud it seemed he would surely die, but the Hook hung on. The two wounds closed over and faded to blue-silver scars. El, Revel, and Hat left him curled in a ball on the filthy floor.