'You don't make friends easy, do you Kell?'
'Shut up. Well, my men took the kids back to Gilrak and I went down the tunnels after these rats. I followed them all night, caught up with two who were injured, killed them easy enough, then another two tried to spring a trap on me in the dark. Well, Kell doesn't die easy, and I gave them a few things to think about – delivered courtesy of the butterfly blades of Ilanna. Then I chased Jagor Mad all damn night, but the bastard got away. He might look like a big brute, but he ran faster than any frightened schoolgirl, I can tell you.'
'How did he end up here?'
'Some of Leanoric's soldiers caught him a week later, north in Fawkrin, heading there with all his ill-gotten gains. I reckon he was going to set himself up as a bandit in Vorgeth Forest, live like a woodland lord. Anyway, because the soldiers had him, he was delivered to the Chief Lord Justice in Vor. Meant he got a trial. Hah! I had to stand there, and them bastards with their fancy words and stupid wigs, they tried to make it sound like I was some bloodthirsty killer, or something…'
'And of course, they'd be right.'
'And I pointed out I wasn't the one selling children to dirty bastards from across the sea, and that's when we went into the woods, it was six of us and forty of them. Still.'
Kell rubbed his chin. 'They had to put him in prison. Too many families weeping and wailing in the courts. Would have looked bad on the Chief Lord Justice. Not even he could have stomached a mass public retribution for his bad comedy court system.' Kell chuckled. 'I'll never forget, all those judges giving me their dirty looks from under powdered wigs. Gods! Enough to make a man puke, it was.'
'So… Jagor Mad came here?'
'Yeah. Scowling at me all the way through the courtroom, mouth uttering threats. He was the lucky one; the others got a taste of my axe. And they fucking deserved it.'
Saark looked out from behind bars. He tested them, tugging gently, as he had a hundred times that day. 'And now they'll give you your own trial, to satisfy Jagor Mad's sense of revenge.'
'Looks that way.'
'What about the others? Dandall and Grey Tail? You put them both here?'
'Aye, lad.'
'And what did they do?'
'Dandall killed people. Lots of people. Used to wait down on Port of Gollothrim docks for drunks, men, women, didn't matter to him. He used to use a long stiletto dagger, get them down a back alley and push it through their necks. I reckon he thought he was doing somebody a favour, although it was probably himself. He was lucky there were seargents with me when I brought him in. He'd just done a drunk prostitute, killed her then cut out her eyes. If I'd been on my own, well, he would have got Ilanna in the back of the head.'
Saark considered this. 'Is there anybody you don't try to kill?'
'Yeah. People who mind their own business.'
'So Jagor Mad kidnapped children for the sex trade, Dandall was an out and out murderer, what lovely crime did Grey Tail commit? Don't tell me, he was arrested for stealing sugar?'
'No. He used to eat people. Before he was a Blacklipper. Must have picked up that dirty stinking vachine habit – no offence – when he came to this wonderful shit-hole. Grey Tail lived in Vor, our illustrious capital city, quite a rich man by all accounts. Worked as a physician, tending the wounded arses of those too rich to get off them. It took the authorities years to realise that occasionally his rich clients would vanish. He had a big house on a very well-to-do street in Merchant's Quarter. Four storeys it was, very nice stone, big cellar below street level. Used to take the odd client, one who wouldn't be missed too much, take them down there, strap 'em to a chair and then, well then he'd begin.'
'There he is now,' said Saark, and they stared out at the small, wiry man with the round face. He was directing a group of carpenters, who were hammering planks in place as a makeshift floor. If you looked past the evidence of him being a Blacklipper, he was a modest-looking man who could have quite easily, in the eye of the imagination, been a respectable surgeon. 'What exactly did he do to his patients?'
'Used to cut them up, piece by piece, and cook them in a little pan. Used to eat their flesh first, he'd gag 'em, slice off a chunk, fry it, eat it. Keep them alive for a few weeks whilst he feasted on their flesh. It was the neighbours who complained; I reckon they got sick of the stench of frying human fat.'
'We live in a decadent world,' said Saark.
'Aye. Sometimes, laddie, it makes me wonder if the vachine have the right idea.'
'Hey, I can always bite you?' He grinned. 'You'd become one of us.'
Kell stared at him. 'The day you bite me, Saark, is the day I rip off your skull.'
'As I said, is there anybody you've met who you didn't try and kill?'
'No. I don't have it in me.'
'That's what I thought you'd say. Oh, look Kell, up go the gallows. Hurrah!' Ten men laboured to erect a huge post, which was then strapped into position and secured with cross-struts. The sound of hammering echoed across the flat ground. Kell's face was grim.
'No need to be so happy about it.'
'Hey, I'm pretty sure it's designed for me as well, mate. You're not the only one with the honour of being an enemy of the new Black Pike Mine Governors.'
'Yeah. Well. We should rest. Going to need all our strength, later, aren't we.'
'You really think you can convince them?'
'I hope so,' said Kell. 'All our lives depend on it.'
'Wake up, you fucking bastards.' It was Jagor Mad, growling through the evening gloom and between the bars. Snow was falling. Both Kell and Saark awoke, weary, groggy, as if they had been drugged. 'Come on, quick, before I call a man with a crossbow.'
Kell stood, and stretched languorously, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. 'Yeah. Well, lad, that would be your way now, wouldn't it? Shoot us through the bars, in the fucking back, just like the coward piece of sliced horse dick you really are. But look, out there. All your pussy lickers are waiting, watching you. And you know you have to play the game, or some bastard will stick you in your sleep. Not that you don't get that every night, eh Saark?' Kell nudged Saark, who gave a nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the pure hate and rage that filled the trembling Jagor Mad standing before them.
'You will eat those words, Axeman,' spat Jagor.
'Show me!'
'Your time will come, soon enough! On the end of a fucking rope!'
'Like that'll stop me,' snarled Kell, moving close. Suddenly, he grabbed Jagor through the bars and dragged the huge bear close. Jagor Mad struggled, but despite his prodigious strength Kell was his match. Jagor's face slammed the bars, and Kell pushed his nose against his enemey's as his hands flapped and slapped, and grappled for his sword. When Kell spoke, his words were a low growl, so only he, Jagor and Saark could hear. 'I could kill you, Big Man, right here, right now, bite off your fucking nose, put out your fucking eyes and you'd be screaming and then you'd be dead, and you fucking know it, you worthless worm.' He pushed Jagor roughly back, just as sword cleared scabbard. The blade rang against the bars, and Jagor was in an uncontrollable rage.
'Wise?' enquired Saark, backing away as Jagor Mad fumbled with the locks.
'Is anything in this world?' snapped Kell. 'Or would you rather dance on the end of a rope?'
'Calm,' said Dandall, and a hand appeared on Jagor Mad's shoulder, and there were muttered words and the huge Governor strode away, face scarlet. Dandall opened the locks, and behind him were ten crossbow men, all grinning.
'Give up the tricks now, Kell. You're going on trial for your crimes. Either that, or ten bolts in your belly. You decide.'
'I'll come quiet,' said Kell, 'although it isn't my way.'
'Oh yes. The Legend.' Dandall gave a slick sneer. 'Well, it won't get you far in these parts. Not with these men. They like a good hanging, y'see? They like a bit of entertainment to pass away the long, cold winter evenings.'
Kell and Saark stepped from their cage. Wind caught them, chilled them, thrilled them. It ruffled Kell's hair and beard, and he flexed his powerful fingers and looked around, like a wild beast in its first few seconds of release. Then he looked down, to where three thousand convicts crowded at the front of the now finished stage and
