If there was one thing that was good for business, it was continuity. And for Wyrmwood Way and the Sixways Gang, everything was about business.
The young gang leader and the exiled assassin regarded each other across the booth table for a while, the bottle of Serkonan rum half gone. Daud kept his expression set as Jack regarded him with a tilted head.
Daud ran a gloved hand over his beard. He liked the sensation. It helped him think.
Finally she spoke. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Daud pursed his lips. “About what?”
“I don’t want just one good reason why I shouldn’t exsanguinate you on the doorstep.”
“Oh?”
Daud’s gloved hand found the bottle. Jack leaned forward across the table and draped her own hand over Daud’s. She had long, delicate fingers, the nails trimmed short. For fighting, Daud thought. He looked into her eyes, and she gently pulled the bottle away from him.
“No,” said Jack. “I think I’m going to need at least four good reasons.”
Daud chuckled, the low, gravelly sound rising from somewhere deep in his chest. Oh, why does this have to get complicated?
“Is that so?”
“Make it five,” she said.
Daud sat back and sighed. “I said I wasn’t here for a fight. And I can only give you one reason not to kill me, but you’ll like it.”
At that, he reached inside his jerkin and pulled out a small leather pouch, then tipped out a single circular ingot of pinkish-white metal onto the table. It was about the same size as a coin of ten, but twice as thick—it wasninety-eight percent pure platinum, and a small part of the cache he had taken years to accumulate, the money hidden in safe houses scattered across the Empire. In terms of theoretical value, it made Daud a rich man. Practically speaking, it was a difficult form of currency to cash—but useful in situations like this.
Jack’s eyes flicked to the ingot, then back to Daud. She picked it up, weighed it in her hand, then turned it over. A semicircle and a pitchfork were stamped on the back.
Jack let the ingot drop back onto the table. “Stealing from the Overseers?”
Daud shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“It does if they want it back.”
“Then melt it. I don’t care. I’m here for business.” Leaving the ingot where it was, he pulled the drawstring of the pouch tight, then pushed it across the table toward Jack. “That’s more than enough payment for your services.”
Jack cocked her head again. “You want something moved?”
“Actually, no. I’m looking for something. An artifact.” Daud glanced at Jack and saw her forehead crease in confusion.
“That’s not how we work,” she said. “You want to spend your stolen money on bonecharms, go right ahead. The storekeepers of Wyrmwood Way will be more than happy to assist.”
“All I want,” said Daud, “is information. There was an artifact in Dunwall recently. It was brought in to the city, but then taken out again. I need to know where it went.”
Jack didn’t speak.
“It’s a knife. Bronze, twin blades. Could be big or small, I don’t know. Might look ordinary. Might look like nothing you’ve seen before. It was brought to the city maybe eight—”
That was when Jack laughed, and the laughter spread across the room. Daud turned in his seat, and saw the members of her gang joining in with their leader.
Daud turned back around and nudged the ingot and the pouch toward Jack. “Nine ingots. Consider this a down payment. Name your price.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, my friend from the south. The Sixways operates a very particular kind of business. Our services have been employed by the good people of Dunwall for a long, long time—services that are not discussed outside of this room.” She sat back against the booth, the leather creaking under her. “Now, a stranger comes in, with Overseer money, and says he’s looking for something he thinks we moved for someone else? I’m sure there is a quicker way to die, but I haven’t heard of it myself.”
Daud turned to the window. “Do you know what’s going on out there, beyond the walls of your little empire?”
Jack shrugged. “Word is there was a coup at the Tower. The Duke of Serkonos has dug up a skeleton from the Kaldwin family closet, apparently. Good for him.”
Daud looked at her. “You really think you’re that untouchable?”
“They won’t come here.”
He curled his hand into a fist and resisted the urge to slam it down on the table between them. “Listen to me, Jack. You may think you’re safe in here with your own private army, but they will come for you. Believe me, they will come.” He jerked a thumb at the window. “You think the Duke of Serkonos doesn’t know about Wyrmwood Way and the Sixways Gang? Maybe you’re too young to realize, but a coup like this takes planning. Months of it. He’s got it all laid out. Marching his men into Dunwall Tower is just the start. And it wouldn’t have been possible in the first placewithout collaborators working on the inside.” Daud leaned forward across the table. “They will be here by nightfall. On that you have my word. And they won’t be scared by the Sixways Gang.” Daud leaned back. “It’s happened before. The Overseers have come in, time and time again, to burn the place out, to clear it of vermin—and that includes the Sixways. You may think that the Wyrmwood is special, and it is, but it’s also a part of Dunwall. And whoever sits on the throne in the Tower owns this city—and they own you.”
Jack frowned. She slowly reached for the bottle, took
