“He’s the biggest man in the place. Head enforcer for the Daggers. They run this town.”
“What about the nobleman that lives in the mansion?”
“Ha! The Lord Mayor? The Daggers pay him off with gold and young girls. His soldiers won’t lift a finger to stop them.”
Damien’s anger rose. When he finished with the barons he’d have to visit the Lord Mayor as well. That sort of behavior couldn’t be tolerated in the kingdom.
But first Bonzo.
Damien spun around and scanned the room. It didn’t take long to spot the brute leaning against the wall near the end of the bar, his gaze following Lane’s every move. He stood nearly seven feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a raw-boned, weathered face. Made Sig look like a midget.
Damien looked closer. Bonzo had weak internal soul force he used to augment his strength and toughness. His technique was sloppy. Probably self taught rather than Citadel trained. Bonzo wasn’t strong enough to be a threat to a real warlord, much less a sorcerer, but his ability would give him a huge advantage over a normal person.
Bonzo pushed away from the wall and sauntered across the common room toward Lane. Everyone rushed to move out of his way. Lane had her back to him as she chatted up a painted whore whose best days had come and gone before Damien was born. Maybe Bonzo would do the job of convincing her to stay somewhere else for him.
“You’re pretty.” Bonzo patted her ass.
Lane spun around and craned her neck to look up at him. “Watch where you touch.”
Bonzo leered at her and reached for her chest.
Lane slapped his hand away and raised a fist. “Try that once more and I’ll deck you.”
Bonzo laughed and stuck his chin out. “Take your best shot.”
Lane reared back. Quick as thought Damien wrapped her in a full-body shield and anchored her to the floor. Next he added a sphere of soul force at the end of her fist.
She swung. The sphere hit Bonzo’s chin and released the stored energy.
He flew across the common room and slammed into the wall.
Lane blinked and stared at her fist. “Asshole.”
Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to stand up.
They’d be waiting a while. He’d put enough energy into the blast to kill a normal person. Even someone like Bonzo wouldn’t shake that off any time soon.
When it became clear the giant wouldn’t be getting up again a cheer rose from the crowd. Damien reabsorbed all the energy he’d wrapped Lane in and smiled.
Damien turned back to the bartender who shook his head. “What does she need you for?”
“She keeps asking me that very same question. Truth is I work for her mother. The old lady worries and pays well. Who am I to argue?”
The bartender laughed. “Words to live by, my friend.”
Chapter 23
When Lane finally finished chatting Damien waved her over. Scowling, she stalked to the bar. What was she pissed about now?
“What?” Lane asked.
“They don’t have a stable in this part of town. My new best friend”—Damien nodded toward the bartender—“assures me that any horse we leave outside will find its way to the meat market in short order.”
“Fine. Take the horses back up the street and find a stable. I’ll wait here.”
“If you think I’m leaving you alone in this place you’re nuts. And if your mother found out she’d kill me. We go together and walk back together, if you insist on returning.”
“It’s for the best, miss.” The bartender flinched when Lane turned her angry gaze on him. “Bonzo’s got a lot of friends. You don’t want to be here when they find out you flattened him.”
Lane turned back to Damien. “What’s a Bonzo?”
“The gentleman lying by the wall over yonder.”
She pursed her lips. “I think I have a good feel for what the people in this part of town think. Maybe it would be useful to talk to the other side.”
Thank Bonzo and all the heavens.
Lane headed for the door and Damien slipped the bartender a silver crown before he followed. He doubted it would stop the man from telling the Daggers which way they went, but he had provided some useful information.
Damien dissolved his invisible barrier before Lane reached it. He detected no sign that anyone had tried to bother their horses. Lane swung up into her saddle and Damien followed her example.
They’d gone as far back as the cedar-sided buildings before Lane said, “You used your powers back there. No way I knocked that goon out myself.”
“Yeah, I sure did. Would you have preferred to break your hand on his jaw?”
“I told you not to use your powers. I know how to throw a punch.”
Damien shook his head at the woman’s stubbornness. “I’m sure you do, but have you ever punched a warlord? Bones as hard as steel tend to be hard on the knuckles.”
Lane laughed. “If he was a warlord then I’m a princess.”
“He wasn’t Citadel trained, but Bonzo did have a weak internal soul force. He’s what’s called an instinctive user. You’ll run into one now and then. The point is, trained or not, you still would have broken your hand on his jaw. After that I would have had to do something drastic to stop him from raping you on one of the tables while the whole place watched.”
That shut her up.
They reached the crossroads and turned in the direction the guards had suggested. The effect on the buildings was exactly the opposite of their ride toward the first inn.
Houses became nicer. Fresh coats of paint covered everything. Single-story buildings gave way to two stories. Windows got wider and more numerous.
The Golden Stag stood two stories high and sprawled over half a block. An iron fence surrounded manicured grounds. Warm light from the windows lit the yard. Three steps led up to dark wood doors, inset with colored glass.
Damien guided his mount through the open gate. Beside him Lane groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate places like
