upon the roof, he could pick any direction he desired to escape. But the plan was worthless without Thren there. Without Thren, he’d accomplish nothing.
As he neared the back of the mansion he heard the sound of a scuffle. Curious, Senke pushed open a door leading into a small but well-lit dining hall. One serpent member lay dead on the floor, another bleeding as he fought a boy with a dirty gray cloak and torn mask over his face. Senke felt his jaw drop at the sight.
“Impossible,” he said.
His voice drew the Serpent’s attention for the briefest moment, and that was all the boy needed. He slipped closer, jammed his dagger through ribs, and then slashed to the side. His opponent dead, the boy turned and dropped into a combat stance Senke recognized well, considering he’d taught it to him.
“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Senke asked, not at all fooled by the mask.
“Not Aaron,” the boy said. “I’m Haern. Aaron is dead.”
Senke shook his head, hardly able to believe it.
“How many have you killed?” Senke asked as he shut the door.
“Five,” said Haern.
“Five?” Senke laughed. “You’re out of your mind, Aaron. Sorry. Haern. I thought you were with the priests?”
“I escaped,” Haern said. He dropped his smaller knives and took a larger pair from the bodies. Cleaning the blood off, he tucked them into his belt and tightened the mask over his face. “I’ve come to stop this, Senke. Will you help me? Or must I kill you too?”
Senke shook his head, torn between horror and hysterics at the boy’s audacity.
“I won’t help you,” he told him. “But I won’t stop you either. I’m getting out, Haern. Tonight.”
“Out?” asked Haern. “How?”
Senke shrugged.
“In about an hour the king’s soldiers will surround the estate. I’ve told them of your father’s plan. If there’s a god, Thren will be here when they arrive. I’ll be just one of the many bodies that’ll get consumed by the fire.”
The way Haern stood, he clearly was not prepared to hear of such betrayal from as close a friend as Senke.
“Why would you betray him?” he asked.
Senke chuckled.
“Actually, because of you. You got me thinking. I’ve collected plenty of money, far more than you can imagine. I could buy a home, some land, and plenty of women. I joined the Spider Guild to escape from the life I was living, yet the life I have now seems no better. Watching what Thren was doing to you, slowly, methodically killing everything good in his own son…”
He shook his head.
“I’m done. I don’t expect much in the way of eternity, but maybe Ashhur will forgive me if I get myself out while there’s still time. Looks like I wasn’t alone in thinking that, too.”
Haern’s cheeks lifted, and Senke could tell the boy was smiling.
“I survived the priests,” he said, clearly proud. “They can’t defeat me. No one can.”
“Don’t get cocky; I could still whoop you with one hand…”
He stopped. A dozen men had begun shouting from the main entrance, Oligart’s voice the loudest.
“Stay here,” Senke told Haern. “Lock the door. I’ll go see what’s going on.”
Senke closed the door behind him, waited until he heard Haern lock it, then hurried toward the entrance. He saw a few thieves dashing around the corner, too far ahead for him to ask questions. Oligart’s shouts were the only ones that he could understand above the throng, and what he heard filled his gut with lead.
“Guards, guards!” shouted Oligart. “We got guards to smash!”
Senke dashed through a dining room, turned left down a hallway, then hooked toward the main entrance. Over a hundred thieves lined up along the windows facing the front of the house. Oligart towered among them, staring and pointing.
“What is going on here?” Senke shouted.
“Soldiers!” Oligart shouted, spinning to greet Senke. “Royal soldiers, too! They showed up and started surrounding the place. I count at least five-hundred. We got heads to smash, boys, and lots of them!”
While Oligart might have been enthused, Senke’s face paled. The soldiers had arrived too soon. Thren wasn’t even there yet. What was wrong with them? Why had Gerand not waited?
“We need to delay them,” Senke said. “Hold the doors as best we can.”
“They got armor,” one rogue beside them argued. “Platemail, for cripes sake. Helmets, shields, swords…we got daggers and leather. What the fuck you think we can do against that?”
“I expect you to kill them,” Senke shouted, a bit of his hardness returning. “Or do you really think they’ll let you live if you run out the door with your hands up and your tail between your legs?”
Oligart pulled Senke aside and lowered his voice.
“We got a traitor,” Oligart said. “You know who?”
“Not a clue,” Senke lied. “We need to hold. Perhaps once the fire is set, we can escape during the commotion.”
“Or we’ll roast like roaches.”
The two leaders stared eye to eye.
“I don’t see any other way,” Senke said.
“Then we fight,” Oligart grumbled. “And we hope for Thren.”
“They’re coming,” several shouted at once. The soldiers rushed through the gates, swarming like metallic ants. They surrounded the complex, this time within the gate instead of without. Most wielded longswords and shields, though some held halberds, spears, and giant mauls. Four carried a thick log with metal handles bolted into the wood.
The men with the log approached the door, a squad of ten protecting them.
“Hold the door,” Senke said, taking a step back. “I’ll guard the back.”
“Better hurry,” Oligart said. “And you better hope Norris hasn’t lost his spine and run!”
Senke had barely left before the surrounding soldiers with mauls smashed in the windows all throughout the lower level. Soldiers poured inside, through far more windows and places than there were thieves to guard. Senke drew his sword and cut down the first to come near. A second soldier tried to use his shield to block, but Senke rolled atop it, over his head, and then thrust his sword through the shoulder blade. The sounds of battle erupted throughout the mansion.
When he reached the room he found the door open. Haern was gone.
T he proceedings bored Torgar tremendously. The sheer amount of revelry around him only worsened his torture. A thousand gallons of alcohol flowed throughout the crowd, the sound of cheers, sex, and fighting roared for miles, yet he was separated from it all.
“Sit up,” Taras whispered next to him. “You’re slouching.”
Torgar straightened, cracking his back as he did. Sometimes he wondered if boredom was more dangerous than actual combat. Certainly seemed as deadly an opponent. He sat at the incredibly long table set up in the pavilion atop the larger of the two hills chosen for the Kensgold. Members of all three families of the Trifect sat in the hundreds of chairs. He saw ugly cousins, distant relatives, soldiers and merchants of all kinds. They bickered among themselves, hoping to achieve a higher appearance through the sparring of their tongues or the collaborative wealth of their name.
Nonsense, all of it. Torgar knew he could kill every one of them to a man, yet they’d peer down at him as if their noses were a mile long and he were hard to see. At the head of the table, Laurie, Leon, and Maynard talked, sometimes openly, sometimes quiet and hunched together. Taras sat beside his father, listening when it seemed appropriate. Torgar gave the boy credit; he seemed to understand most, and he even chipped in once or twice without earning scorn from any of the three. Leon and Maynard seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Laurie was clearly upset. The empty seat beside Torgar was the reason.
Stupid bitch, thought Torgar. Just had to go running off for her precious walls. Babes in diapers are tougher to scare than that broad.
He might have said it out loud, but he’d been denied the amount of alcohol he’d wanted. Still, his master wanted him at Taras’ side, to serve as protection to both the boy and the father. Judging by the haughty grumbling
