When did I lose control of this situation? “Okay, so you’re joking about me bootblacking, but my boss isn’t a mere bread muncher. She’s got black market ties, even if she stays out of the nastier businesses. Mostly, she does smuggling, blackmail, protection rackets. Never more than the traffic can bear, usually a tithe, which nobody in the slums has paid to the Church since the civil war started. They’re just not organized or brave enough to come through on any kind of regular basis.”
“That’s not why the Church hasn’t come through the… poorer districts,” Zidrist said firmly.
“Whatever you say, preacher. You’re up on the fifth ring, do you even know what it looks like down in the swamps?” I mean, I’m up on the fifth ring. Fourth, actually, is where my parents live. Am I included in this? Except I come down to the swamps all the time. I know what—except I don’t ever try to claim that. Drexl set down that rule early. Until I’m not living off my pin money I don’t get to say I have any clue what it is to root for mallow and burdock.
Zidrist turned to Darka. “Not personally. I attended seminary in a respectable neighborhood. But my wife…” Right. She’s married. Lucky. Neither of them are going to be interested, which makes them less interesting, but she’s not coming along to be interesting, she’s coming along as spiritual insurance and to identify Izkarzon’s heir.
“I’m staying out of this.” Darka put up her hands. “I haven’t had to farm the swamps like… Drexl here. And I got a scholarship and live with Zidrist; I don’t even have a garden except for flowers and herbs.”
Drexl pooched her lips and cocked her head. “I can respect a willingness to stay out of what isn’t your business. Zia accepted that compromise a long time ago.”
“She didn’t say,” Zidrist made a circle with a loose wrist, “how did she meet you? She just promised muscle and now it’s looking like you’ll be the one leading us on this errand. Which I’m not entirely certain I’m comfortable with.” Oh come on now!
“It doesn’t matter how we met!” Zia protested. “I know her and she’s trustworthy. If her boss’ boss can get us in with the right people, she can. And you’ve got no place to judge bread, considering you married a wane.”
Zidrist raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t on my list of objections, Zia.” Oh. Sarx. I just made myself look real bad then. “This boss that we’re entailing carries out criminal activities. There’s muscle and there’s dishonorable muscle.”
“Say that to Madame Krask’s face!” Drexl’s hand was on her club. “She may not be all shine like you lot but she’s honorable! Gave me a right decent job, where I was ready—she gave me work I could take pride in! Sure, I take a bit of their income, but they get quiet streets where everybody goes about their business. Not like the Eyes, impressing people, extorting favors, and getting worse all the time!” This cannot end up anywhere good.
“The Eyes of Izkarzon are a time-honored establishment,” Zidrist sniffed. “If some of their number are corrupt, well, of course they’re assigned to the district where—” Oop, yeah.
“Zidrist, perhaps we should concern ourselves with business?” Zia asked.
“Speaking of business, you said this would net a lot of money, how much are we talking, split four ways?”
Zidrist sniffed again. “Five ways, we need the symbolic fifth member. And if you won’t stand for it… I’ll forfeit my cut. I just want the well-being of my flock.”
“Oh, so quiet streets are okay for you to pursue, but not me?”
“I don’t pursue them with a club. I am not what you would describe as ‘muscle.’”
“Oh, but you’ll bludgeon with words, with your bible.”
“She doesn’t bludgeon people! She builds them up! We sing praises to Izkarzon, we get people up and moving to the hymns, and-and-and if some muddy wane comes into her congregation, she cleans the tile instead of escorting them out, and gets them a wash besides!”
Drexl put her hands on her hips and swayed forwards. “Alright, Darka, so your deacon, so she’s virtuous.” She held up an abeying hand. “As are all the priests of Izkarzon, I’m sure. You gonna work with a sinner like me?”
Zidrist raised an eyebrow. “Darka is refusing to speak against you. That speaks volumes, she’s an excellent judge of character.” Oh really. What’s she say about me then? “Drexl, what kind of ties are we talking here?”
Drexl shrugged with her whole body. “Beats the tar out of me. I’m just talking, we could ask Madame Krask and see. I’d think you priests would keep a closer eye on the succession of your God-King.” She waved off Zidrist’s outraged intake of breath, “Our God-King.”
This could be my chance to take back the reins. “What say you make introductions and we see if we can’t convince Madame Krask to support our cause?”
“You got silver?” Not much. Enough, maybe, for one bribe. I’ll see if I can’t get out of paying. She’s a crime boss, I’ll just flame anyone who comes collecting, or hide out at the country estate.
Zia patted her coin belt. “I got it.”
Drexl shrugged again. “Then follow me, dudettes, to the illustrious Madame Krask.” I appreciate her specifying -ettes. With that declaration, Drexl sauntered off downhill. Zidrist twined her fingers through Darka’s and matched the pace effortlessly. Zia brought up the rear, somewhat irritably. Sarx it, this is my adventure! My idea! I should be leading!
The neighborhood got worse by degrees. First there were sediment lines on the slate roofs of the buildings, then the buildings were slowly decaying wood, shoring up stone construction, giving over in turn to mildewed wood in and of itself. And then somehow—somehow! Izkarzon preserve me!—it got worse and the buildings were holes in the ground made from mud and sticks like beaver dams. The smell of decay and marsh gas was nearly overwhelming, and Zia wished for a kerchief to cover her face. Unfortunately, she was in her Dad’s leathers, mercifully already modified to lend the appearance of some figure, but lacking in pockets. I hadn’t thought we’d be heading straight out. But hey, maybe we’ll get this meeting over with and find out the heir is just down a river. Quick raft ride, notify the lucky dragon of her fortune, and back to how things should be! Zidrist seemed unbothered, though Darka was looking a touch uneasy. Looking around, Zia realized they were attracting attention. Zidstrist was in her black and green vestments, Darka in her white and green chorister’s robes, Zia herself in boiled leathers… just to reassure herself, Zia conjured some fire in her hand, reassuring herself that two of them were armed. Ouch, hot! Drat it all I always do that! It’s the Dragonslayer’s fault, back when my parents had more money I was getting tutored in fire sorcery. After all, it’s the element of the Mother, it was only proper I get some more feminine magic tutoring.
Rising out of the water, disguised to blend in with the trees and detritus, suddenly there was what was either a small mansion or a large house. Several people, armed with actual axes rather than the spiked club Drexl carried, stood leaning against trees, one of them looking on with amusement as Zia waved her burnt hand. From somewhere there carried on the wind the notes of a hymn. “Gonna serve Izkarzon, it is all that we could wish! Serve him gladly, like a meal on a golden dish!” Zia realized she was humming along and had missed Drexl saying something. Zia nodded fervently, not wanting to admit her mistake. Drexl pulled on the bole of a tree and it swung outwards, revealing an interior gleaming with polished wood and only slightly worn carpets. Standing in the doorway was a man, of all the things, holding a wickedly curved and serrated knife. Oh my. That’s a lot of muscle. Come on Drexl, please know this guy.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“We got business with Madame Krask. Silver business for not a lot of work. I thought her ladyship would like it.” Why’d you have to go and mention silver again? Zia asked silently as her hand flew to her coin belt.
“Madame’s busy. Meeting with Dear Born.”
Drexl glanced back at Zia. “All the better. Lady here’s got business with him, we just wanted to go through proper channels.” She leaned over to Zia. “Pass him some silver. Make it clear we’re not wasting his time.” But I only have… I have no idea how much to hand over. I’ll stick Drexl’s hand in my coin belt. Oh, if only that were innuendo. Drexl drew out a few coins, a distressed pang running though Zia’s chest, and handed them over.
The man in the doorway regarded them, nodded, and secreted them somewhere on his person. “I’ll let Madame and Born know there’s business if they want it. No promises.”
The trunk of the tree slammed shut, and Zia mouthed to Drexl, “No promises?!”
“It’s the way of business. Dear Born doesn’t want to talk to you, he doesn’t have to talk to you.”
“How long do we wait?”
“If it’s anything like a royal audience,” Zidrist said, “we wait until we get an answer.” Well, that’s just charming. Standing here, surrounded by thugs, waiting until we get an answer. And now they know who has the silver.
But after a few minutes, the trunk of the tree swung wide and the burly guard admitted them. Drexl looked over her shoulder at Zia and raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly at Zia’s belt. Inside the tree—the mansion, I guess it is—the singing was louder, having carried on to another hymn to Izkarzon, not one Zia knew as well. The interior was understated, it wouldn’t have done as a noble’s estate, but it was at least clean and incense masked the neighborhood’s scent of decay.
Inside a decently-appointed office, there were three figures. One was presumably Madame Krask, sitting behind a desk, a black woman in perhaps her fifties. Across from her, seated in a comfortable-looking chair, was—ulp. Even I haven’t mixed with one of those!—a draconic nephilim, quite possibly descended of Izkarzon Himself, with green scaled skin and no hair. The influence presumably wielded by such a man, alive after this much civil war, was even more terrifying than the presence of his minder, a small, slender woman wearing an abundance of runed sorcerer’s gear. The man, presumably Dear Born, wore gloves, but Zia had no doubt that anyone who could claim draconic spirit was ouroboros. Krask looked curious, while Born looked bored. The large, muscled man who had seen them in closed the door behind them, presumably returning to his post, which only attested further to the presumable lethality of Born’s bodyguard.
“Virten Krask’s butler—” Okay, if that was a butler I’d hate to see what muscle looks like in this neighborhood. I am… in over my head. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should emulate a duck. Look calm and paddle like mad under the water. “—said you had business for us. For me, which is curious, because I am quite certain we’ve never met.”
Darka spoke up. “Drexl was hoping to become your bootblack.” Drexl and Zia both blanched, while Zidrist’s face quirked in an amused expression. “And Zia here was wondering if you wore gloves because you’re ouroboros or because you’re foreign.” I… that didn’t occur to me. He could be from outside Dragold and hiding that fact. Casteless can aspire to leadership in the criminal underworld? Maybe I’m better off not liaising with Drexl. It would explain the name. Definitely a foreign name, we use Draconic words here, not Loon.
Born looked amused. “You’re insolent. It’s been a while since someone was insolent to me. Krask, what happened to the last person who was insolent to me?”
Krask grinned. “You wanted plausible deniability, so I never told you.”
“Ah, but humor me.”
“I had them dumped in a tub of leeches. The spirit mages used the little blighters as foci for days.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re insolent, but we do have coin,” Zia offered. “And we’re very sorry to have been insolent, aren’t we, Darka?”
“Ah, but if Mister Born lets me feed you to something, we can keep our coin and punish you. Drexl, what are you doing keeping such high-in-the-instep company? They clearly don’t know the rules of engagement.”
“Oh, so this is Drexl? She’s been… you must be Zia then.” Ulp. He knows my name. “Very well, what business have you to discuss?”
“We want to find the heir to Izkarzon’s throne, ending the civil war.”
“And securing yourself a bountiful reward, I’m sure you imagine.” I don’t imagine, I know. What’s he know that I don’t? He’s a foreign-born nephilim criminal. I know all about Izkarzon, I’ve been a dutiful servant since I was yea high. “What makes you think I can help with that?”
”It was suggested,” Zidrist said circumspectly, “that as the preeminent crime boss in the region, you might have some underworld contacts to obtain such proscribed tomes as the lineages of dragons dating back to the Age of Loss.”
“I might. It would be expensive, of course. Zia, your family has only a few entailed estates left, which one will pay for the tome?”
“Estate? I mean. I have silver to pay for an introduction, an estate would be a matter to discuss with the seller.” Sarx. I fumbled that. Oh, dear Izkarzon let me get through this alive.
“Bah. Silver is common. I have plenty.”
Aren’t favors currency in these circles? They are in ouroboros circles. “I am an accomplished fire sorcerer, Drexl is, well, you’ve heard of her, surely that speaks for itself. Zidrist here brings all manner of lore and wisdom to the table, and Darka… Darka…”
“Is insolent.” Born smiled a feral grin. “You bluster, Zia. But I will admit, I had been looking for some deniables.” What does that mean?! Am I going to commit a crime? I don’t want to be a criminal! “A ranking thug has gotten ideas above his station. I was going to ask Krask to handle him, but you’re at another remove. Steal his regalia he has had fashioned for himself, and turn them over to Krask, and I will provide you with a letter of introduction to a thief-lord in Fief. That’s the land to the east, Zia. It being a larger nation… well, you’ll get to read the letter if you earn it, and it will explain what you might hope to secure.” He wants me to steal something? From a criminal. Is it a crime to steal from a criminal? I don’t think it is? It’s not like he can say, “Zia stole my stolen diadem from me,” so I’m probably fine. And Drexl knows criminal things, surely she can help with this. Wait, oh sarx, I’m not just dealing with Drexl, I have to convince Zidrist. Zia shot a panicked look at Zidrist, and her lack of subtlety was remarked upon by Born’s barking laugh.
“What do you say, Zidrist?” Zia asked weakly.
“I say come get me when you’re headed for Fief.”
“Come on Zidrist. Even you were about to say the poorer districts deserved a little bending of morality. You’d be stealing from criminals—no offense,” Zia hurried to add. Both Krask and Born nodded, looking entertained. “You could be the distraction, while Darka was the lookout, you wouldn’t have to… to…” Izkarzon help me, what did I just sign myself up for?
Serve Izkarzon
We are led by a dragon.
We are so fortunate it’s true.
There’s no other way to be
Than in kingdom under you~
We need you, yes we truly do, and you,
You have graced us by
Sticking to us like glue~!
Yeah you stuck to us
Just like glue!
Serve Izkarzon,
Our divinely ordained lord!
Serve the dragon Izkarzon!
There is no other, that comes before,
Gonna serve Izkarzon
It is all that we could wish
Serve him gladly like a meal on golden dish
Spiritually delish.
He’s so great, somehow relates
To our mortal lives, yeah shows us mercy and grace
Yeah he shows us so much mercy and grace~!
There’s just one thing to do
Serve Izkarzon,
Our divinely ordained lord!
Serve the dragon Izkarzon!
There is no other, that comes before,
Whoa whoa whoa
Whoa whoa whoa
Whoa whoa whoa
It is all we could wish
A sumptuous feast on a golden dish
Yeah the finest of feast is service to Izkarzon~!
Serve Izkarzon,
Ooh-ooh serve Izkarzon
A ruler so benign!
We love to serve him, got to serve him, yeah we love him.
Please Izkarzon let us serve you day and night!
