Gerzog understood too late what was happening, and the edge of his blade dulled against skin that was temporarily as impenetrable as stone. Even the statue version of Azarin had a mischievous expression.
The merc looked up just in time to see the muzzle flash of my gun. A shimmering distortion appeared in the air as the bullet smacked harmlessly into the protective spell in front of his face.
“Fool!” And Gerzog vanished into the night.
Except when he stepped out of the shadows, twenty yards away, I spotted him thanks to the magic bullet still stuck to his face that was beginning to glow orange.
The lead continued heating up, burning through his remaining protections, and Gerzog roared his fury as it seared through his flesh. Skin blackened and split. Blood hissed into steam. He clawed desperately at his face, but the bullet had turned into molten spall, and the droplets rolled down his arms, burning to the bone as they went.
The defiant roars of Gerzog the Marauder turned to squeals of pain as his thrashing caused one of those drops to get in his eye. And trust me, having worked with fire most of my life, molten metal really doesn’t give a shit how tough you are.
It took ten seconds for the shadow-walking charm to recharge. It took me a third of that to reload my gun. I was out of enchanted rounds, but that didn’t matter, because with his protections being temporarily used up, my bullet plowed a hole right through his chest.
He took a few halting steps back, bumped into a chimney, and slowly sank down it until he was seated, confusion written all over his face. I’d gotten him in the heart.
I turned back to make sure Azarin was unhurt, and as theImperviousturned to dust around her, she exclaimed, “I told you all I was getting the hang of Krachma’s spells!”
Krachma walked up next to her and poked her in the neck with one thick finger to make sure she wasn’t lying. Seeing no wound on her, he nodded, satisfied. “Krachma is best teacher.”
I turned back to Gerzog. I’ll give the orc credit. Even mortally wounded, he still had the determination to reach into his vest to pull out what I assumed was another healing potion. He even managed to free the stopper with his teeth and began to drink it, before Dathka walked up and smacked the vial out of his hands.
I’d expected her to say something, to get in some last words of victory, but she must have been in too much pain to bother, because she just stabbed him in the neck and chest with my knife a couple dozen times. When she finally stopped, she was breathing hard from the exertion, and Gerzog was very much undoubtedly dead.
Only after she was certain he was done for, Dathka gloated, “I will warn my sisters to watch for the ghost of Gerzog the Marauder as you wander past Surnod Lin on your way to eternal torment, so my family may mock and spit on you one last time. Enjoy hell, you bastard.”
“That’s nice. Can I eat him now?”
“Sorry.” I patted our loyal Squalo on the shoulder. “Loot first,theneat. You need to stop eating magical items, Trax. That can’t be good for you. But loot fast, guys. Somebody surely heard that and called for the paladins.”
Rade inspected the gnawed and gooey goblin, then gagged. “I’m not touching that one’s pockets!”
Once we’d gathered up all the Tooth and Claw’s magical items, element, and coins, the Outcasts fled the Cantor’s district and ran for the Slumps.
Forty-Six
Since the last couple of days had been a nearly nonstop sprint, I was so exhausted that I slept until late in the afternoon. I woke up halfway through Waterday, the sundown of which was the deadline that Carcalla imposed upon us. Rising early wouldn’t have done me any good, as I’d done all I could. If the Latrocinium still wanted to evict us, and most likely kill me as an example of what they did to debtors, at least I’d go to my public execution well rested.
I woke up to find the Tube was so busy that the activity was even drowning out the wails of the ghosts. Big Bognar had returned from the healers, and in an attempt to repay Azarin for her bartering an expensive wand to save his life, he’d vowed to fix the place up. He was a terrible wizard, but he was a good carpenter. The constant hammering did give me a headache though.
It was also surprising to learn that while I’d been out, we’d attracted a few more new recruits, and unlike Gerzog and friends, these were legitimate students. Though Rade had told them to come back tomorrow so they wouldn’t be in the crossfire should Carcalla throw us out tonight. Worst-case, they’d comeback to find the Tube abandoned. Best-case, our numbers would grow.
If our landlord was merciful—however unlikely that might be—things were really looking up for the Academy of Outcasts. Word of our existence was spreading. We now had access to a tester, so our students had a real opportunity for official advancement. The mercenaries had lots of coin on them, probably scooped hurriedly off the floor after the priest of Saint Violence burst their money chest, and it was more than enough for us to live off of for a few months. As for the future beyond that, some of us were making a good bit of money from the arena, and Azarin and Morton now had a contract to train the flying animals at Smorp Brothers. All that would hopefully be enough to keep us stocked up on practice element.
If you do things different than everybody else but still win, they’ll hail you as a genius. If you do things different than everybody else but you lose, then you’re just an idiot.
I discovered that Sifuso had set up a strange little memorial shrine in the big training room. I don’t know what odd saints the lizard people followed, but he’d constructed little dolls out of rags, clay, and sticks, and set them on the floor amid a bunch of candles and small animal bones. Oddly enough, the faces he’d carved bore an obvious resemblance to Rufus and Danny. I would never have guessed Sifuso was so artistic.
“What’re you doing?” I asked him.
“This is the way of my people, to remember the fallen of the tribe.”
“Rufus, I get. Respect to the great war mage of Clan Rudnik, may he rest in peace. But Danny was a no good, two-faced, rotten traitor, who sold us out the first chance he got. And you especially nearly got killed for it.”
Sifuso licked his eyeball with his forked tongue as he thought that over. “Outcasts have formed a tribe. Not a good tribe. Morelike the leftovers and garbage none of the real tribes wanted. But that garbage became a tribe. Even real tribes have scum. Some scum is worse than others, but they were still part of the tribe. I did not say this is to honor them. It is to remember them. The elders of a tribe tell the stories of those who came before, so the hatchlings can learn from them, both good and bad.”
That was surprisingly wise for the weird lizard. “I guess your shrine can stay, though we should probably do something nicer and more respectable, and less… creepy.” I waved toward the pile of mouse skulls. “But what’ll you do with those dolls if we get evicted?”
“Then the tribe is dead, there is no one to teach, and these can go in the canal with the rest of the trash.”
