“Naw, I know what ratlet meat looks like. I live with Trax, remember.” I happily took another bite. “You want this or would you prefer to be self-righteous and starve?”
Dathka relented and took the stick from me. “If I die of dysentery, my ghost will haunt you.”
I sat next to her. “We’ve got so many ghosts in the Tube, what’s one more?”
We ate and watched the crowd. I didn’t spot any watchmen. Occasionally, a paladin would pass through, wearing different colors and heraldry to mark their order. There were a lot of priests going up and down the lift, each roundtrip of which took about ten minutes. Carriages rolled through, both magical and pulled by animals. If Gerzog arrived in one of those, we’d have a problem, unless we got lucky and caught sight of his ugly green face through a window.
I decided to try and make conversation with the surly deadlander. “When I showed you that molten bullet spell—which you stole like a rotten thief—you mentioned having a bunch of people you intended to kill. Anybody in particular you feel like telling me about?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Keep your secrets, then. I’m plotting a great and terrible revenge myself, against a real bastard of a pirate. He’s an elf actually. I heard Carcalla’s only half elf. How’s that work?”
“How do you think it works?”
“Assuming elf parts match up to humans, the actual workings of the endeavor seem straightforward and aren’t reallyin question. I mean, how does that kind of existence fit into the grand scheme of things? With the elves being near immortal string pullers in all the positions of authority, do they accept your dad? Or do they treat him like he seems to treat you?”
Oh, that drew her ire. “Go to hell, Carnavon.”
“I grew up in Fogo, which by most accounts is pretty similar to Hell. Except we’re still alive upon our lake of fire and not quite as damned for eternity.”
“I lived on the literal doorstep of Hell. You know nothing of the place. Now be silent so I can end this orc and get my property back.”
“Yeah, he took all your stuff. Does that include your shadow-walking charm? Because that’s a potent spell. If he’s learned to use it…”
“It’s a higher-level enchantment. I doubt it.”
I didn’t care for how she dismissed my reasonable concern. “How’d you wind up with a charm that powerful anyway?”
She paused for way too long before replying, “It was a gift.”
“Did your dad give it to you?”
“No. It doesn’t matter who gave it to me, only that it’s unlikely Gerzog’s figured out how to use it already. Even with my affinity being shadow magic, it took me far more than a single day to make it work at all.”
“Only morons underestimate their enemies, Dathka. If what Gerzog told me is true, and I’ve got no reason to doubt this part, he’s a rank higher than me, and I beat you even when you had that charm. I wouldn’t be so arrogant.”
She gritted her teeth.
That attempt at conversation ended rather poorly. It made me thankful the Outcast’s deadlander wasn’t a stuck-up sour-puss. Though, to be fair, Dathka was a lot nicer to look at than Rade. It was unfortunate she had the personality of gurgler.
Time passed with no sign of the orc. The sun sank behind the mountains, but it didn’t really matter because this district had more light charms hanging everywhere than the Collegium did. It was so bright, it might as well have been noon time, except the charms here were set to give off a warm, rosy glow. Combined with the echoing hymns, it gave the district a very peaceful feel… Which we would likely be ruining very soon.
With a belly full of mystery meat, it took everything in my power to not nod off to sleep. I actually might have for a bit, but I didn’t know for how long, because Dathka elbowing me in the arm brought me right back.
Gerzog the Marauder had arrived.
Forty-Two
Five mercenaries entered from the opposite side of the lift plaza. Knowing what I knew now about the Tooth and Claw mercenary company, seeing them dressed in priestly robes was amusing. They must have stolen their outfits from the same place, because they were all the same grey color, and bore the symbol of some saint I wasn’t familiar with. The robes didn’t fit right, especially on Gerzog, who was so big, his barely went over his shoulders and he couldn’t close the front at all. Beneath that, he still wore the same rugged adventuring clothes as before. He carried a wooden box, which was the perfect size to hold Korthican’s lamp. This container was sealed better than the old, rusted one we’d found it in, since we weren’t all getting blinded by leaking light.
The other mercs were a goblin, another orc, and two humans, one of which was female. They were all armed, but whatever church they were impersonating must have been a militant one, because nobody batted an eye at the sword and gun belts. The woman had a lump under her robes like she was hiding a big backpack.
The two of us stayed seated and watched from beneath the shadows of our hoods.
“How do you want to play this?” Dathka asked.
“I haven’t seen any paladins for a minute, but I don’t think they’re going to like us starting a fight here.”
