“It really is lousy with ghosts,” Azarin chimed in. “They shriek constantly and like to throw things. They’ve got a nasty temperament.”
The ghosts were why Rade—who’d been kicked out of his home realm for annoying the nobles he claimed to be related to—ended up living here while trying to make his way as agladiator duelist in the Slumps’ arenas. Deadlanders are so used to ghosts, they don’t mind them. For the rest of us, ghosts are a pain in the ass. The part that galled me the most about them was when they appeared, they’d suck all the warmth out of a room, and this whole damn city was too cold for me already.
“The reasons the property was unoccupied before are irrelevant. It’s occupied now. Carcalla is the landlord of this entire neighborhood. It’s true, Carcalla cared nothing about the Tube before—seeing as the dead can’t pay rent—but it’s undeniably got itself a fancy magical academy residing in it now.” Joran gestured at our half-burned flag, the name on which could still clearly be seen. “Said academy’s rent is past due.”
We’d set up here because we couldn’t afford to live anywhere else in the Core. If any of us had money, we’d have bribed our way into a real academy like the rest of the aspiring wizards did. All those prestigious institutions in the Collegium were run by rank-ten master mages. We had one of those too, but our founder was off on a mission of vengeance, didn’t seem to care if we lived or died, and I suspected he’d allowed the founding of a school in his name simply because it amused him. It really should’ve been the fearsome and respected Gaul Haddar having this discussion, not me.
“First I’m hearing about this rent,” I told him. “How much are we talking about?”
“Upon careful appraisal, Master Carcalla has deemed a hundred Obols a month to be fair for such a spacious habitation.”
That was a significant amount of money for the likes of us.
“Absurd!” Azarin exclaimed. “That’s robbery even without the ghost infestation.”
“Miss, the Latrocinium does not fear ghosts. Wemakeghosts. And it being the thirteenth and final month of our saints’ blessed year, and according to the proclamation whichyou yourselves have until recently had nailed upon your front door…” Joran nodded toward the wood fire which was still crackling, “your academy was founded during the tenth month. Which puts you on the hook for four hundred Obols.”
My mouth fell open. “That’s outrageous.”
Joran spread his hands in mock apology. “Such is the market for housing nowadays.”
That was more money than we’d managed to scrounge up between all of us in the whole time we’d been here, including all our winnings in the local arenas. We barely had enough coin to buy magical element to train with as it was.
“That’s quite the sum. We’ll have to settle up later, I’m afraid, as unfortunately, our instructor is away on important high-ranking wizard business.”
“Yeah, unfortunate. Mad Dog Gaul the Mutilator Haddar being distracted pursuing pirates across the Plane of Fire don’t absolve you of your debts. This is a topic you should know about, Mr. Carnavon. I heard you skipped out on your contract to the Argents, but unlike your shit realm noblemen, Carcalla always gets paid.”
Joran was well informed.
“And if he doesn’t get paid?” Azarin asked.
“Azarin Garzade, I presume?” Joran waited for her to nod. “I figured correctly. I was told you would be the lovely one of the bunch. I see I was told the truth, albeit you’re a bit too skinny for my tastes… Anyways, you don’t want to go down that path, miss. I know defiance is the Stormwolk way, as your home is full of warring clans constantly squabbling, so you might think there’s room for such behavior here. That used to be common in the Slumps after the city abandoned us to our fate. Battles between gangs and hostage takings and whatnot, but Carcalla brought order to the Slumps by slaying every fool who stood against him. We’re downright civilized here now. But Carcalla’snot forgotten the old bloody ways and remains fond of them. He seldom gets to do things the old-fashioned way, and rejoices at the opportunity to spill some blood when it presents itself.”
“Is that a threat? What’re you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that pretty things like you are fragile but bring a lot of coin in the black markets of the under city.”
Honor insulted, Azarin moved one hand toward the copper rods on her belt. “Those are big words backed by so few bodies.”
In response, several Latros opened their coats to display pistols and daggers on their belts. Rade was a braggart, and possibly delusional, but he was no coward, as he immediately moved to Azarin’s side and readied his sword.
“And the black-eyed, corpse-looking swordsman must be Mr. Tartaros.”
“That’s Lord Tartaros to you.”
“You mistake the Slumps for a place where birth titles mean something. The only titles that matter here are the ones we earn.” Joran chuckled. “I’ve seen one of your gladiator bouts. You’re an entertaining amateur at best, giving them a bit of a show. But in that field, I’m what’s known as a professional.”
“I recognize you now.” Normally, Rade was a cocky bastard, but his voice broke just a little bit. That squeak told me a lot about the manner of man we were dealing with, because I’d seen Rade rather fight a Death Elemental than lose face. “You’re Cutter Joran.”
“That’s right. Now,Cutter, that’s a title that means something in these parts.”
“I heard you retired from the arena.”
“Expanded my career horizons is more like it. I fought for twenty years a gladiator before Master Carcalla retained my services. Now the whole of the Slumps is my arena.” Joran spread his hands wide, and when he did so, his fur coat openedenough to reveal a nasty cleaver of a sword at his side. “And this my adoring crowd.”
There wasn’t much of a crowd, since the locals had all gone into hiding to keep from catching a stray bullet or spell. Krachma probably didn’t understand most of what was being said here, but our lob seemed ready to beat someone with his stolen board anyway. He looked to Rade, confused, but our usually confident duelist shook his head in the negative.
“Alas, I didn’t come searching for conflict today. What you see before you is but a small welcoming committee. Carcalla has an army the likes of which makes the City Watch sweat. What’re all of you, rank ones? Perhaps a two?” He pointed at one of his wizards. “Rank three.” Then he pointed at another. “Rank four. And I’ve got fifty more just like them and better to call upon to seed these haunted grounds with even more ghosts, should it be required.”
