Kid walked the streets of the inner city, a torch held aloft in his hands. His heart raced at every step, still ill at ease with hiding in plain sight. He did his best to look the part of his cover as a Venaran Messenger boy. He kept telling himself he was allowed to be here. If a guard happened to search him, all they’d find was official looking orders for various guard postings around the city. His real messages were all drilled into his skull until he could recite them forwards and backwards ten times.
A Venaran patrol turned the corner in front of him ten paces away and he fought the urge to run, instead smiling and waving with his free hand. The guards glanced at him and dismissed him without a second glance as they tended to do, leaving Kid in their wake as they passed.
Kid let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and continued his march down the streets. He’d just finished his eighth official delivery, passing information and orders between the Son’s outposts scattered across the city. There were dozens just like him, passing word across a seemingly endless network.
He looked up at the sky, seeing the moon hanging high in the darkness. He’d spent the better part of the day on his feet, and divines he was tired. After another few blocks of trudging through the slush from the melt, he was nearly in sight of the safehouse where he’d been bunking the past week. Though, calling it a safe-house was hardly doing it justice. Safe-mansion might be more appropriate. He never thought he’d be living inside the walls of the city. The thought brought a small grin to his lips.
Kid paused as he turned the final corner, noticing four figures arrayed outside the safe-house. From their stature, he could tell they were soldiers which couldn’t be a good sign.
He dashed back around the corner, dousing his torch in the nearest snowdrift. He stilled, listening for approaching footsteps through the snow.
Nothing.
Taking care in his steps, Kid crept to the corner of the street and peeked around the building. On closer inspection, Kid could see that one of the figures was a good bit shorter than the rest, but it was difficult to pick out any details beneath their thick cloaks in the dark.
The door to the safehouse was open and Kid could see James standing in the doorway, firelight glowing around him. The shorter figure pulled back her hood and Kid nearly choked on his own spit as he realized he recognized her. Ilyena Thorne had come to visit.
James’ eyebrows raised and his eyes drifted across her escort. Kid could feel the tension from where he stood. After a long moment, James beckoned them inside.
As the figures entered the safehouse, Kid dashed forward, not wanting to miss whatever came next. As he approached the door, he could hear hushed voices. They cut out as he knocked once, twice, then once again.
A moment later, James opened the door, seeing Kid and ushering him inside. “Get in, boy,” he said, glancing down the streets a final time before shutting the door. The door opened up into a wide entry-hall ending in a long, oak staircase that curled up to the second-floor landing and the halls beyond.
Ilyena and her guards stood in the hall, their hoods up once more and obscuring their identity. Kid decided it best to play dumb. “Who are our guests?” he asked.
James hesitated a moment. “Some of Marc’s contacts. They’ll need to deal with him directly.”
The sound of a blade being drawn distracted Kid. He swiveled to see a handful of Sons in a nearby room arming themselves. That was when he noticed the axe on James’ hip and the glint of mail about his collar. The man’s face was grim.
“Can you take them?” James asked. “I’m a bit tied up.”
Kid glanced at the figures and back to James. “They can see?”
James nodded.
“Then I’ll take care of it,” Kid said.
James patted him on the shoulder. “Good lad.” Without another word, James turned from him and joined his men in the room where they were preparing for something. Kid didn’t inquire, as he was pretty certain he didn’t’ want to know. He looked to his new charges who watched him from beneath shadowed hoods.
He shrugged. “Follow me.”
With that, he led them down the long central hallway. The house was well furnished in the front to give the appearance of usual habitation from the doorway and windows for any casual inspectors. As they reached the rear of the house, sitting rooms and dining halls gave way to rooms filled with scribes, and storerooms stacked high with crates, and bunks housing dozens of Sons.
This was one of the major distribution centers for Spice within the inner city. The servants entrance led to a secluded alley far from prying eyes that was perfect for offloading cargo and coin. Many of the dealers got the drug from here, whether they were aware of it or not.
Some scribes still worked even at this hour, keeping careful record of the expenses and profits from the Son’s activities. Most were women. The Sons of the Reaper didn’t attract the most peaceful members of society. The temperament of the men was generally better suited toward violence and clerical work fell to the women. Some few glanced up at him as he passed, but most ignored him, lost in their work.
Theft, extortion and trade in the various drugs smuggled turned a tidy profit. That and some generous benefactors kept the organization afloat. Kid had seen firsthand that a good bit of that money found its way into the hands of the city’s smiths. One thing the Sons never lacked for was a steady supply of weapons and hands willing to use them.
As he reached the end of the hallway, he began to descend the staircase to the cellar below. The staircase spilled out into a large stone room filled with yet more crates, many of which were filled with weapons. Tomorrow they’d be taken by porters to where they were most needed.
At the far end of the chamber, a hole was bored into the earth. A Son stood guard beside it, resting against the far wall. His eyes followed Kid as the group approached. “James said to take them downtown,” Kid said.
The man said nothing. He just nodded; eyes wary as he walked to grab a torch from a nearby stack. Kid waited while he lit it with a flint and tinder then dropped it down the hole. Kid watched it fall until it hit the floor far below with a clack, perhaps fifty paces below the earth.
Kid took a deep breath and looked back at his charges. “We’re going to go down and beneath the walls.”
Ilyena spoke, “We’re familiar.”
Kid nodded, bowing his head to her as he edged closer to the tunnel and grasping the supports of the ladder before carefully beginning to lower himself into the depths one rung at a time. Ilyena followed next, followed by her guards.
Kid was very careful not to look up as they descended, fearful of the repercussions for doing so. The light from the cellar began to fade and disappeared to soon be replaced by the light of the torch below. Kid let go of the ladder to land on the ground and scooped the torch from the dirt. He turned and offered a hand to help Ilyena from the ladder. She paused a moment before accepting his aid, shadowed eyes seeming to size him up. He fought the urge to swallow, instead forcing what he hoped was an easy smile.
“You know who I am,” she said as she gained her footing on the floor of the tunnel.
The fake smile fell from Kid’s lips along with the lie he nearly spouted. “How did you know?”
“You’re being far too respectful, and you didn’t even try to look up my skirt,” She said, playfully injecting a hint of disappointment in the statement.
Kid blushed. “I- ahem. Maybe I was just being a gentleman.”
She looked up at him, letting the torchlight illuminate her fine features. Her smile and grey eyes were radiant in the firelight. “Come now. You’re a Son and we both know those two things are mutually exclusive.”
Looking into her eyes, Kid felt his ability to think clearly slipping away. He cleared his throat before falling into a ridiculous sweeping bow like he imagined nobles did at court. “Kid, at your service m’lady.”
Her smile widened as the guards behind her snorted in amusement. “Well then. Perhaps you’re simply the exception that proves the rule.” She held out her hand to him.
Kid stared at it in confusion for a moment before he reached out and shook it. He’d seen Venarans do that before. As he let go, she stared at her hand in bewilderment before bursting out laughing, a singsong noise. Kid chuckled along with her more out of awkwardness than anything. Divines, she was captivating to look at.
As she brought her laughter under control she spoke. “I think you and I will get along just fine- Kid, was it?”
Kid nodded and she said his name again slowly as if testing how it sounded on her lips. He looked down the dark tunnel, holding the torch aloft. “We’d best get moving,” he said, setting off. Kid led the way, his torch a beacon in the darkness, revealing the cavernous stone walls around them.
“You have an interesting name. Is there a reason, you’re called that?” she asked.
Kid swallowed. He hadn’t had to have this conversation in a long while. The words seemed to stick in throat as he forced them out. He spoke into the darkness before them, glad he didn’t have to meet her gaze. “My mother never gave me a name, he said, “So, people just called me Kid and it kinda stuck. I don’t have a father, so I guess you could just call me Kid Noson.”
Kid could feel her considering stare on his back. He was like dirt beneath the heel of her shoe, and he knew she must be thinking the same. The story usually elicited awkward condolences or even admonishment and he was just waiting for the shoe to drop on one or the other.
After a moment, she responded. “A fine name that you can make your own.”
Kid took in a shuddering breath, unprepared for a kind response. “Thank you,” he whispered.
They walked in silence for a time down the long, twisting tunnel before Ilyena spoke once more. “May I ask you some questions, Kid?”
“Do I have to answer?” he asked.
“A gentleman would,” she replied.
Kid grinned and nodded his assent.
“What do you think of my family?” she asked.
Kid hesitated a moment before answering. “I don’t think of your family. I’m usually thinking of where my next meal will come from.” He shrugged. “I suppose, I’d rather be caught by your guard than the Greencloaks.”
“We do try, you know,” she said.
Kid looked over his shoulder at her.
“To make things better,” she added.
He didn’t know how to answer that, let alone what she was looking for from him. “I try too,” he said, “to make things better.” Kid took a deep breath. “I’ve met cruel people and I’ve met kind people,” he said, “I’d rather be the latter.”
Ilyena sighed. “Sometimes we lack that luxury.”
“Me too,” he said, “Sometimes.”
He could feel her smile. “You seem clever for a boy from the Outwalls. How old are you? Ten?”
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Kid winced. “Thirteen,” he muttered. That stung.
“Oh,” she said.
“When you’re my size, you end up clever or dead,” Kid said. “Usually both,” he added.
She chuckled as they turned left down a branching corridor. “And what does this clever gentleman think of the Sons?”
Kid bit his lip. “I think it’s the best the likes of me can hope for. These days I eat three times a day, have a roof over my head, and know my mother is cared for. That’s more than a lot can say.” He paused. “I’m glad to be here.”
“Would you serve Venar for the same?”
Kid shook his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Why?” she asked.
Kid furrowed his brow. “They caused the problems in the first place.”
“How?” she asked.
Kid grasped for words for a moment, coming up empty. “I’ve never really thought about the how,” he admitted.
“Did you consider that the Outwalls might be a better place without the Sons?” she asked. “Without them controlling the Outwalls, legitimate business might be able to properly invest in the area, bringing money, jobs, and more.”
Kid’s mind went down another path to his mother and her addiction. Was that something else that could be attributed to the Sons? Without them, would she have been okay? He shook his head. “I hadn’t,” he admitted.
“Question everything, Kid,” Ilyena said.
“Why are you asking me these questions?” he questioned, looking back at her.
She smiled. “In my position it’s as if I’m perched atop a great pillar. I can see endless possibilities in each direction. But, as grand as the view is, I can’t see the cracks in the foundation beneath my very feet.” She shook her head. “Your opinions matter, Kid. Because if you think something, somebody else likely thinks the same and where one voice may fall flat, a thousand in harmony can strike a terrible chord.”
Kid wasn’t sure what a chord was, but it sure sounded threatening. “And here I was, thinking I was just pleasant company.”
She chuckled. “Perhaps that as well.”
Kid tightened his grip on the torch as it’s light illuminated the entrance to the catacombs. He’d been through this way five or six times already, but they still made him uncomfortable. Kid approached the hole in the brick wall, carefully stepping over the remaining rubble into the narrow hallway. Boot prints lined the dust on the floor, betraying the heavy traffic through the underground passageways. The walls on either side were lined with human remains. The bones were black as though they had been dipped in tar and the skulls of the long dead stared at Kid from the walls as he led their party through the catacombs. The only sound beneath the earth was the padding of their footsteps along the stone floor.
The air down here felt oppressive in a way none of the other tunnels seemed to be able to match. Side passages branched from the main hall, many of which had yet more tunnels carved by the Sons. Some were decoys while others led to outposts elsewhere in the city. Kid was warned from his first step in the tunnels to stick only to paths he knew. There were many traps for the unwary to fall afoul of. The thought of being injured down here and unable to escape sent a shiver of fear down his spine.
Ilyena broke the uneasy quiet. “Did they tell you who they belonged to?” she asked, eyes drifting across the bones.
Kid had to force the words from his lips. “I didn’t ask.” Talking down here felt wrong.
“This is a holy place. Every body belongs to somebody sacrificed to the Reaper. The ritual causes the darkening of the bones,” she said. “The Venaran’s sealed the tunnels after the city was occupied. Part of the campaign to silence the old faith.”
Kid looked over his shoulder to see Ilyena running her fingers along the faces of the skulls as they passed. She smiled at his discomfort, and for the first time, he found himself a little afraid of her. At least her guards seemed to share his unease. Kid tore his eyes from her and focused on the way forward.
Kid could almost swear he could hear whispers, though he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. It always did in the catacombs. Men who had walked it hundreds of times assured him that there was nothing down there save the dead and the occasional rat. The dead didn’t speak, but they couldn’t vouch for the rat.
Kid sighed in relief as the curving passage revealed the warm glow of light in the distance, growing stronger as they neared. The catacombs fell away, the walls expanding into a small room. The far wall was a smooth stone wall set with a heavy oaken door that barred the way. Torches hung from sconces on the wall, revealing four Sons rolling dice at a small table.
As they neared, he could hear them arguing about who had to “Open the bloody gate.” One of the men flopped backwards off his stool as two of his comrades unceremoniously shoved him. To his credit, he turned his fall into a backward roll and rose to his feet.
Kid heard him muttering as they neared, “Pig suckling bastards.”
The Son dusted his coat off as he turned to face them, a hand resting on the axe at his hip. “Good evening gents,” he greeted. His gaze drifted to Ilyena who had her hood drawn tight “And to you as well, Lass.”
“Evening,” Kid greeted, regretting having spoken as his voice squeaked.
The man just grinned. “One of you wouldn’t happen to know if a bear shits in the woods, would you?”
Kid responded, glad the squeak had faded. “A bear shits where it pleases.”
The guard nodded. “Indeed, it does. Thanks for the pass code, comrade. I’ll get the gate open in a jiffy.”
He turned from them and walked to the heavy wooden door, drawing the axe at his hip. He struck the butt end of the axe against the wood three times, twice and then twice again. Kid could hear garbled muttering from the other side, followed by the scraping of wood and clanking of metal. A moment later, the door cracked open.
The guard grabbed the iron ring on the front and hauled at it, the door slowly creaking open. As it opened, it soon became apparent that the wood was a façade covering an Iron frame nearly as deep as Kid’s hand was wide. Beyond the door, the tunnel expanded into a high-ceilinged room leading to a rectangular corridor of cut stone, brightly lit by torches hanging from the walls.
There were more Sons on the other side and as Kid walked through the gate, he glanced at the pair of buildings carved into either side of the room. Dozens of heavily armed men milled about and through wide carved stone archways, he could spot rows of bunks and tables covered in cards.
The men regarded them curiously as they entered, and a handful blocked their path to the tunnel beyond. Kid waited for whoever was in charge to make themselves known.
A familiar voice soon called out. “Hey boy! The fuck you think you’re goin?”
Kid grinned and turned to see Billy walking his way from the stone arch of one of the barracks. The man’s eyes drifted across Kid’s companions. “Who are your-” Billy froze, voice trailing off as recognition blossomed in his eyes. His hand fell to his axe. The rest of the Sons bristled as Billy tensed.
“Here to see Marc,” Kid said, “He in?”
Billy nodded slowly. “Aye. Believe so. Getting some shut eye in his quarters.”
Kid nodded and began to set off down the hall before anybody started drawing iron.
Billy called after him. “Hold.” Kid stopped in his tracks as Sons barred the way. “Those three stay,” the man added.
The Thorne soldiers looked to Ilyena and she nodded, stepping from them closer to Kid. The men blocking the passage stepped aside, letting them pass. Kid walked down the hall with Ilyena in tow. Torches hung from sconces every twenty paces, illuminating the hall in a dim glow. Branching passages formed a lattice of halls set at right angles with dozens of doors lining the walls. Foot traffic was heavy in the main halls of the Son’s headquarters. Even at this hour they crossed paths with a few dozen armed men patrolling the halls or attending to some such business. A few were even specked with blood. If Ilyena were bothered by the absence of her guards, she gave no indication.
“I’d been wondering where he ended up,” she said.
“Billy?” Kid asked.
Ilyena nodded. “You two seemed familiar.”
“He saved my life,” Kid said.
Ilyena slowed and Kid paused to regard her. She was arching an eyebrow at him. “That was you?”
Kid nodded, deathly serious, before continuing down the hall. Marc’s room held no special adornment and had no sentry posted, though Kid was not so foolish as to believe the room was actually unguarded. He took a deep breath outside the door, mustering the courage to wake one of the most powerful men in the Rills.
“Do you want me to knock?” Ilyena asked.
Kid narrowed his eyes and knocked, spite driving him more than any real sense of courage.
She just smiled at him, something that he was beginning to find annoying. Kid turned his attention to the door as movement sounded from the other side. A moment later the clicking of locks sounded, followed by the groaning of hinges. The door opened to reveal Marc. The man was dressed in a simple tunic and had deep bags under his eyes, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days.
Kid had to fight the urge to squirm under his gaze. Marc had a very open door policy, but the authority of the man was still intimidating while under his scrutiny. Marc’s eyes drifted from Kid to Ilyena, and his haggard face broke into a grin. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, boy?”
Kid affected a weak smile.
Marc stepped to the side. “Come in.”
Kid awkwardly shuffled into the room, unsure if the invitation was extended to him, but certain that he was blocking Ilyena’s way. Marc didn’t seem to object to his presence, closing the door behind her. The room inside was bare and unfurnished save for a table, cabinet, two wooden chairs, and the pile of silk sheets resting on the pallet tucked into the corner.
Ilyena Thorne reached to her hood to pull it back, but Marc held up a hand, forestalling her. His eyes drifted to where Kid huddled against the wall, trying to look small. “Kid, do you know who your charge is?”
Kid nodded, feeling uneasy. “Ilyena Thorne.”
Marc lowered his hand and Ilyena removed the hood. He turned his gaze to her. “Did you tell him?”
She shook her head. “Sharper than the usual brute your men stick me with.”
Marc nodded in approval toward Kid and a flush of pride ran through him. He blushed as Ilyena glanced his way, hating that he couldn’t seem to control the way she affected him.
“It’s been some time since you’ve come to visit, my lady,” Marc said, falling into a proper bow. Kid took mental notes on how Marc did so. His own bow had been much less graceful.
Ilyena held out her hand to him and he kissed her ring. Kid blushed at the sight. Divines, he shook her hand, didn’t he? If he was sharper that the usual brute then, Marc must have had some real dunces on the payroll. Kid wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole as Ilyena glanced his way and winked.
Marc rose from his bow and gestured to the table and chairs. He followed in Ilyena’s wake and took a seat at the table. Ilyena stood beside the table as if waiting for something. Marc loudly cleared his throat, looking to Kid. “Boy, help the lady with her chair.”
Kid stumbled to the table and pulled the chair out for her. She took her seat without so much as a word of thanks.
Marc spoke again, “There’s a bottle of wine beneath the bed and a pair of cups, pour us a drink.”
Kid blinked as he realized why he was still here. He walked to the bed, fighting the urge to run as he fell to his knees and lifted the edge of the silk sheets. There was a wooden lattice beneath the bed, holding a few bottles of wine next to a large trunk that presumably held Marc’s belongings. Kid pulled free a bottle and grabbed a pair of clay cups sitting on the edge of the wine rack.
He returned to Marc and set it on the table. Marc drew his belt knife and held it out to Kid. Kid stared dumbly at the knife for a moment before realizing the bottle was sealed with wax. He accepted the knife, cut a ring around the wax, dug the knife into the edge and pulled the wax free. He was relieved as it came out cleanly.
Kid poured them each a glass in turn, careful not to spill the vintage that he was certain was worth more than his life. As he set the bottle atop the table and backed away, the pair grabbed their glasses. Marc spoke first, “It’s been some time since you’ve come to visit.”
“It’s been some time since I’ve received news worth the visit,” she said, “and the company lacks a certain- charm.”
Marc grinned, “A pleasure, as always. So, how is that lovely castle you live in, bought with the blood of our kin?”
“A bit drafty this time of year, but it keeps out the pests,” Ilyena answered with a meaningful look.
“For now,” Marc said, taking a drink from his glass, “So, what is this news?”
Ilyena glanced at Kid.
“I have reason to trust his loyalty,” Marc said.
Ilyena shrugged as if it were of no consequence to her. “Sources in the Venaran garrison have made me aware of when and where they intend to let the hammer fall during the thaw.”
Marc waited for her to continue, but Ilyena took a sip from her cup and swirled her wine. He sighed. “Let me guess, the rest has a price?”
Ilyena nodded. “Naturally.”
“Let’s have it,” Marc said.
“My source appears to have the unenviable task of clearing one of your tunnels. The first condition is that you make sure their prong of the assault is a resounding success with minimal casualties.” She set her cup atop the table and leaned forward. “And more importantly to me, the price is three thousand Hearts.”
Kid’s eyes widened. For that much coin, he could buy three palaces in the inner city and live out his days as wealthy man with coin to spare. Marc leaned back in his chair. “How important are these sources to you?”
She clicked her fingernails against the cup. “They’ve been profitable to us in the past but burning them would increase my share.” She shrugged.
“Do you trust them?” he asked.
“I trust their desire to save their own skin,” she answered.
Marc crossed his legs, taking a sip from his wine. “What do you have to gain from this?”
“Irrelevant,” Ilyena answered.
“Fair,” Marc conceded. The man looked into his glass of wine, seeming lost in thought. “Were I to agree to this, how would we proceed?”
“The request was for payment to be left at their exit from the tunnel in question. Spoils of war, so to speak.” She paused. “Should they not survive the event, I would expect us to come to an arrangement at a later date.”
Marc nodded his assent.
Ilyena continued, “I won’t be risking this trip twice, so I’ll need to borrow one of your messenger boys to carry the information back once I have it in hand. I’ll see they’re well-housed for the evening.”
Marc chuckled. “Didn’t trust me enough to bring it before we had a deal?”
“You once told me that your word is your bond. I’d be a fool to blindly trust without it well secured,” she said, absently twisting a ring on her finger. “And, if I’m not mistaken, I haven’t yet received it.”
Marc was quiet a long moment. “The lives of Rillmen rest on your word.”
Ilyena met his gaze and said nothing.
Marc took a long draw of the wine. “So be it. I’ll have the funds prepared.”
“And how will fare the health of our informants?” she asked.
Marc leaned forward. “As you say, my word is my bond,” he said, “They’ll be rewarded deservingly.”
Ilyena shrugged. “So be it.”
Marc shook his head, setting his cup atop the table. “I’ll find one of my men to send back with you.”
“What about him?” Ilyena asked, waving in Kid’s direction as is it were of no consequence.
Kid’s eyebrows raised.
“He’s just a boy and he’s barely been here two weeks,” Marc answered.
“You said you had reason to trust him, did you not?” she asked, with a smile. “Besides, the boy has two hands and can walk. He’s more than capable of delivering a letter and, more importantly, he’s already here.”
The hairs on the back of Kid’s neck rose. Something felt off, and he could tell Marc sensed it too. The man met Ilyena’s gaze then turned to Kid. “You think you can stomach her company, boy?”
Kid considered saying no, but he really didn’t want to back down in front of Marc. “A stiff drink would help,” he said.
Marc barked a laugh and held his wine out to Kid. “All yours.”
Kid regretted his quip, knowing he now had no choice but to down the bitter liquid. He forced a weak smile that brought a knowing grin to Marc’s face. Kid took the glass, raised it in a toast and drank deeply until the wine was gone, fighting the urge to spit it out.
He caught Ilyena’s gaze as he set the glass on the table, and she rolled her eyes. It was oddly satisfying. “I’m at your service,” he said, more bravely than he felt.