“Careful with the product. This is a rare commodity.” He glared at Erich.
“I think there’s been a mistake.” Erich rose, reaching for his dagger and bag of geld, but before he could, the thug stabbed it through, and coins spilled from the torn fabric.
“I don’t think you understand. You’re not leaving here without paying for what you’ve spilled.”
Blood pounded in his ears as he considered his options, and as there was no use reasoning with them, it left him with only one: fighting his way out. Fortunately for him, his dragon curse made him faster and stronger than most humans. Erich lunged for his dagger, had a hold of it, and turned as the big man swung his cudgel at Erich’s head, barely missing by a mere hair’s length. Twisting around, he jabbed at the big man as the cudgel came back down, striking him in the shoulder and knocking him back into Half-finger, who poked a knife into his lower back.
“No one gets away without paying,” he snarled.
Then the door burst open, and all eyes turned toward the redhead from the bar standing in the doorway.
“City Watch, no one move!” she said in a commanding voice.
Something told him he wasn’t leaving Artria with the morning tide after all.
2
Raucous laughter roared in Liane’s ear as she passed a table of gamblers. The winner scooped up geld and silbern coin, whooping triumphantly as his companions groaned. The tavern was hot, smoky, and crowded, which made the rough-spun clothes even more unbearable. Commoner’s clothing was ideal for these sorts of operations; no one gave her a second glance as she worked her way through the crowd. If only they weren’t so Nameless damned itchy. Did common women really wear them, or had Ludwig bought her a dress made of itching nettles?
She rolled her shoulders, attempting to relieve the itching scar on her back to little avail, and glanced at Ludwig, who leaned against the wall by the door, his sharp gaze scanning the room conspicuously. He’d been against her plan from the start, and it had taken days of cajoling to get him to agree. Never mind him. There were already too many distractions, pulling her in a thousand directions when she needed to focus. The handsome man, whose seat she’d taken, had gone upstairs with one of Niklas Ehrle’s lackeys, and she’d gotten up to follow them.
For months she’d been hunting the Onyx Gang, trying to link them to stardust, and tonight she’d witnessed a deal in progress. Niklas couldn’t slip out of her grip this time. Not paying attention to where she was going, a drunk jabbed his elbow into her rib and knocked her into a nearby patron who spilled their drink onto the table and over everyone’s cards. Stumbling back, she watched as a drunk man rose up and jabbed his finger into the chest of the man she’d collided with.
“You great oaf!” shouted the man she’d run into, glaring at the drunk who’d knocked into her.
“It wasn’t me. It was her.” The drunk pointed at Liane.
“Pardon me.” Liane bobbed her head and turned to follow her mark.
But the man grasped her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.
“I was winning that game. How are you going to repay me?” he said, his gaze lowering to the neck of her gown. Liane’s hand reached up to cover herself from his unwanted stare.
Over his shoulder, she spotted Ludwig making his way over. If he reached her, he’d separate the man’s hand from his wrist and then force her to retreat. There wasn’t time for sweet-talking or attempting a negotiation. Instead, she stamped hard on the man’s foot and the shock forced him to release her shoulder, and she scurried across the room and out of reach.
It was an inelegant solution, but an expedient one, and she couldn’t lose sight of the buyer for long. Darting between patrons, she evaded capture and headed up to the second floor, where the buyer and lackey had disappeared. As soon as her foot hit the first step, she heard Ludwig shout out after her.
“Liane!” But she ignored him.
She’d ask him for forgiveness later, he always gave it, and it was easier than waiting or trying to convince him. The hall at the top of the stairs was empty until the door at the end opened, and the one-eared lackey stepped out. When he saw her, a grin spread across his pockmarked face.
“What’s this? Little bird, is you lost?” He strode toward her.
“I’m looking for someone,” Liane said, wringing her hands in a pitiful display of a lost and helpless damsel. She fumbled for the dagger she’d hidden in the waistband of her skirt.
“And who’s that?”
“I’ve heard you could help me. You see, my ma is sick…” saying those words turned her stomach, thinking of all the poor innocents who’d been lured in by the Onyx Gang on the promise of a miracle cure only to get hooked on a drug so potent and expensive it would bankrupt them before robbing them of their loved ones.
His smile widened, and he stepped closer, attempting to wrap an arm around her shoulder, and the putrid scent of his rotten breath made her want to gag. But she fought against the urge to recoil and clenched a fist around the dagger hidden in the waistband of her skirt.
“Come with me, little bird; I can help you.”
Liane drew her dagger and pressed it against his chin, and his eyes widened as realization dawned upon him.
“Tell me, is Niklas in there?” She nodded toward the back door.
Throat bobbing, his lips turned into a sneer.
