He was sitting on Clotz’s table, and the usually sneering and snarling bookie was awfully quiet for once. I’d never seen a goblin be respectful before. For that alone, I didn’t hate Joran’s presence, but I also couldn’t collect my winnings as long as he was sitting there, and Clotz was too cowed to move.
“That was a good match. Lots of shooting and ranging about, both on the horizontal and vertical. The audience finds that sort of fight entertaining. That was never really my style. I was more of a stand there and slug it out sort of fighter, myself.”
“Like Rufus and the orc earlier.”
“I missed that one. I was outside buying myself a pudding. But from what my friends who watched told me, it was of asimilar combative mindset to mine, though in my prime, I could have beaten both of them at the same time easily. Isn’t that so, Clotz?”
“Yes, Cutter,” the goblin sniveled. “You’re the best gladiator either Slump has ever seen.”
The post-rush lethargy had set in. My back hurt. My chest hurt. And I’d thrown myself face first into a hole. It was possible that my normal smooth-talking diplomacy might have failed me a bit right then. “You don’t need to remind me how dangerous you are. That message’s been received. We’re already doing as your boss has asked of us. The rent will get paid.”
“Can’t a man reminisce about his glory days in the arena? I know we’ve secured the cooperation of your academy. A wise choice on your part, that. But in all truthfulness, I was merely a spectator tonight, come to watch one of the Latrocinium’s new associates fight, and it is by pure happenstance that I saw your alias upon the betting board.” Joran jerked one thumb toward the chalkboard behind him. “And seeing that reminded me of something I should’ve cleared up after our first encounter.”
There were a lot of people milling about us, coming and going to their seats, buying food and drink from the vendors, and a few adoring fools who were surely waiting to ask Joran for his autograph. “Is this the place to talk about it?”
“It’ll do, good as any. We won’t discuss the specifics of where you’re going or what you’re doing for us, yet the issue is that my master gives out tasks. After doing so, he needs not worry himself about the pesky details of how those tasks get done. That’s what he’s got me for. The detail which concerns me currently, should you not die by monster or get speared upon some ancient’s trap, is that you may actually find a bit of loot. However, with no impartial witnesses present, you might lie about your haul, and present to Carcalla an uneven split.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” I wasn’t lying either. That just wasn’t the sort of thing I’d be inclined to do.
“So you say, but greed makes men dumb. I would hate for you to be led into temptation… Especially with this being but the first adventure ofmanythat Master Carcalla has planned for your crew… Monthly… Forever…”
I longed for the day Gaul Haddar returned, not just so we could finally have a proper teacher, but so that he could renegotiate by putting a sword in this bully’s guts. Joran was a Null, though I suspected someone as notoriously violent as Haddar would know a way around that, and I’d love to watch him rip Joran’s throat out.
Except I just smiled as if I wasn’t imagining his horrific demise. “That’s our current arrangement.”
“Which is nice for us. Master Carcalla’s been contemplating dispatching adventurers on these endeavors for him for a long time, but he’s been too busy focusing on his paying businesses to waste the Latrocinium’s resources on frivolous treasure hunts. Until your gang of expendable wizards came along, that is. The problem with adventuring is often there’s no payoff at all, and lots of men die for no good reason. But sometimes, you hit the jackpot.”
“And on the off chance we do, since you’ve deemed my word about what we find to be insufficient, I’m betting you’ve already got a remedy in mind.”
“He’sbetting.” Joran chuckled. “Let’s ask the betting expert. Hey, Clotz. What would you place the odds upon this board of yours that Cutter Joran already had a plan in mind for the Outcasts?”
“A hundred to one in your favor, sire, obviously.”
I think I liked the goblins more when they were being pricks than groveling ass-kissers. “Sounds like a sure thing, then.”
“A sure thing is what I thought I had when I bet against you tonight, but life is full of surprises. Like your opponent tonight. She’s mean as a manticore, sneaky as a kobold, and shows real promise as an assassin, but tonight taught her a valuable lesson about underestimating her victims.” He nodded at someone approaching behind me. “And there’s my associate now. Dathka Walker, meet Oz Carnavon. I was just telling the lad how my faith in you cost me twenty Obols tonight.”
“She works for Carcalla too?” That at least explained why she was armed with an enchantment far beyond her rank to create.
“I’ve given my blood oath to serve the Latrocinium.” She sneered at me. “From what Joran’s said about you, that means nothing to you, oath breaker.”
She must be referring to me skipping out on my contract of indentured servitude. “That’s not the same. You picked yours. The Argents held my family’s contract long before I was ever born. I just took back what’s mine.”
“It’s amusing you think your life belongs to you.”
“Who owns it, then?”
“Every life belongs to whoever is strong enough to take it.” Covered in dirt, scratches, and with a cloak that was now charred to ash on the edges, she glared at me, then turned her scorn upon Clotz. “I’ve come for my winnings, goblin.”
“Me as well,” I added quickly.
Clotz looked to Joran for permission, and only after the gangster nodded did the goblin open the safe and begin counting coins.
Joran seemed amused by my meager stack of coins. He’d lost ten times more betting on my fight than I’d made fighting it. “Ah, I remember fondly those days, starting out, scraping by, beating rank ones to a pulp to buy my bread… But returning to the original subject. How do I ensure the Latrocinium gets aproper, honest accounting of any treasure found in those ruins? My solution is to send someone I trust to watch you.”
“Marvelous,” I muttered.
The instant Clotz finished counting out her coins, Dathka snatched them off the table. She tossed a single coin to Joran—who caught it—then she hurried and hid the rest in her pocket. I didn’t know what that payment was for, but she was clearly eager to get it over with.
