They split the party, p.6
They Split the Party, page 6
Angel’s eyes went wide for a moment, genuinely caught off guard. After the incident at Rockshore and Edelfric’s appearance at the bridge, she’d already assumed there’d been a slip up at Oblivion. But she hadn’t expected it to be on a scale like this. The others wore similar expressions. The only exception was Brass, who looked less stunned and more quietly excited.
“How many?” Phoenix asked. His voice shook.
“Until we’ve tracked down every inmate loose on the island, we don’t know,” Lupolt said. “All we have are assumptions and scattered reports from places where escapees have been spotted.”
“What kind of prison island can’t get a headcount?” Angel asked.
“It’s not so simple,” Lupolt defended. “Several inmates are experts at avoiding detection. One was already found in the walls. The island itself is so shielded against scrying and divination that the guards’ only option is to physically search every inch.”
“Tried using dogs?” Elizabeth asked.
“At my suggestion,” Lupolt said, bitterly. “They went two days without thinking to.”
“Wizards,” Phoenix scoffed. If there was one thing mages were absolutely terrible at, it was thinking up solutions to problems that didn’t involve magic. He suspected there were students at the Academy who couldn’t open a jar without casting a spell.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Ink retorted.
“Some of the escapees could cause crises all on their own. And there may be dozens of them at large,” Lupolt said. “The Order of Saint Ricard is refusing to leave their post in the mountains. Seven Gates are the only knights left in the kingdom qualified to face this. And they are not enough. If we’re going to resolve this before any lasting harm is done, we need help from people who have already proven they can handle the kind of monsters locked in Oblivion. We need all of you.”
Silence gripped the room. Phoenix surprised himself by being the one to break it.
“Why didn’t you lead with that instead of a right cross?”
“I was waiting to discuss it in a secure location,” Lupolt said. “Which would have been this room before the mess at the gates.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because of your fight, hundreds of people saw you and Angel outside the city gates. Because you were arrested for defying your exile, I had to issue orders for your release. And all of that means it’s only a matter of time before Roland finds out that all of you are in the city and that I’m the one who brought you here.”
“Wait. You didn’t tell Roland you were bringing us here?” Church asked.
“No. He didn’t.” The clack of crutches may as well have been a strike to the back of Lupolt’s head for how much he flinched. The doors of their impromptu meeting room were pushed apart by a pair of royal guardsmen, who made way for the man they escorted.
Roland II looked tired. Permanent dark circles hung under his eyes, accompanied by lines in his face that had no business on the skin of a man only just entering his thirties. His clothes were new, still brightly colored, stiff, and spotlessly clean, but for how he wore them, they looked like a fresh coat of paint on a derelict house. His head slumped, as if the crown on his head were made of lead.
He bore nearly all that weight on a pair of crutches strapped to his arms. He didn’t wear the braces Phoenix had made for him.
He hadn’t for seven years.
Roland didn’t so much as glance at anyone else in the room, focused purely on Lupolt.
“Who told you?” Lupolt asked.
“Who refused your order to lie to me?” Roland retorted. “McCarter.”
“She’s fired.”
“She’s promoted. Good soldier. Organized. Loyal to her king.” Roland stressed the last point. Lupolt winced.
“Roland—”
“No.” The single syllable matched the punch Lupolt had given Phoenix for its measured brutality. Roland’s voice held almost no emotion, save for flat, simmering anger. “I don’t want excuses. I don’t want an explanation. I want them,” he pointed to the four former Starbreakers, “gone.”
“Well how’s that for royal hospitality?” Brass said, immediately making Phoenix and Church both cringe and making Angel want to punch him through a wall.
Roland finally looked at them and glowered. “My hospitality is not having you thrown back in prison for violating your exile. My hospitality is letting you leave this palace, now, and go back to whatever holes the lot of you were hiding in.”
“Hey, he’s the one who asked us to come!” Brass pointed a finger at Lupolt.
“In defiance of the law . . . and me,” Roland said, eyes back on Lupolt. “If you were anyone else, you would be going to jail with them.”
“I’m not,” Lupolt said.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not anyone else,” Lupolt repeated. “I am your most loyal and faithful servant. Everything I do, I do for you and for this kingdom. You know that. And you know that I am not a puppet either. Whether you like it or not, I brought them here because we need help.”
“Not their help! Not again.”
“Okay, fuck you,” Angel interrupted.
The entire room sucked in a breath.
Roland blinked. “What?”
Angel held her head even higher.
“Fuck you, you ungrateful sack of shit,” Angel said. “I didn’t even know if I wanted to help with your bullshit, but I was at least going to let your lapdog finish talking before I flipped the bird and went home. But I’ll be damned if I stand around listening to one more second of you trying to get up in arms about ‘our help’ like it’s the fucking shit you scraped off your shoe.”
“Angel . . .” Church tried to talk her down, but she was on a roll now.
“‘Our help’ is why you still have a castellan in Olwin instead of a Clocktower patsy. ‘Our help’ is why the Servitor didn’t carve an end-to-end canyon into this country. ‘Our help’ is why you’re still fucking breathing. The crown wasn’t too good for our help for years. You were fine with it, risks and bent rules all included. You gave us medals for it. But we make one mistake—we lose one time—and you throw us to the fucking wolves.”
“My father’s home died!” Roland nearly fell as he stamped one of his crutches. His voice reverberated off the walls. “Every soul in it, gone! I owed my kingdom due diligence for what happened. The council wanted your heads, but I gave you all a fair trial that still found you innocent even though half of you never bothered to show up!”
“Innocent of mass murder,” Angel corrected. “Guilty of endangering the kingdom. Stripped of all holdings, banished from the city, and blamed for everything that happened and the shit laws you threw up to act like you were doing something. That was our thanks for seven years of saving your collective asses. Forgive me for not falling over myself in gratitude, Your Magnanimousness.”
“Get out,” Roland repeated. His voice was lower but shaking now. Angel was already walking away. The other Starbreakers swiftly followed. “All of you, get out.”
Ink raised a finger. “Does that include—”
“OUT!”
Lupolt was the last to leave, hovering in the doorway for a moment. He looked about to apologize, then thought better of it.
When the last person had gone and the doors had shut behind them, Roland collapsed into the closest seat, completely drained of his strength and will to stand.
10
THE CASK
“Well, that went well.”
Brass broke the silence before it could settle onto their table, and for once, everybody was grateful for it. Angel had gotten everything she’d needed off her chest, but the rest of them remained tense for the entire exchange with Roland. They needed time to talk, to relax.
They needed to drink.
The Broken Cask was one of the few taverns in Sasel that didn’t use lightstone, instead making do with lanterns and the light of its twin fireplaces. It gave the place a warm glow, accentuated by the deep, rustic hues of its wood paneled construction. Fiddle music and raucous laughter filled its dining hall as the working people of the city gathered to drink and sing away the worries of the day.
“Sorry,” Angel muttered insincerely into her beer. “Someone had to say something, and you were all just sitting there taking it like Sicaran whores.”
“Hey now,” Brass protested. “I’ve known plenty of Sicarans that were very active participants.”
“He’s just hurting,” Church said, choosing to ignore Brass. “This whole situation has to be stressful for him, and his best friend went behind his back.”
“He’s king, of course he’s stressed. That’s the job,” Angel said. “No excuse to act like a dick.”
“You’re one to talk,” Phoenix said without thinking. He practically spit out his drink when he registered his own words. “I didn’t mean—you know, sometimes you just . . . shit.”
He scanned Angel’s face, trying to work out if he just needed to shut up or if ducking and covering was in order. One of her eyebrows twitched, and he flinched.
And then she laughed.
“Probably right,” Angel admitted, taking another drink. “Still. Fuck him if he thinks I’m just gonna let him talk about me like that after all the shit we’ve done for him. For the whole country. Whole world.”
“We could’ve used you at the trial,” Phoenix said. “When we were in there, we just . . .”
“Took it like Sicaran whores?”
“. . . yeah.”
The Cask’s beer always did have a way of making things better. It had been a natural choice to come here. After leaving the Pearl Palace, the four former companions and accompanying knight of the crown had been in the mood for a good drink and whinge, and none of them had felt much like walking all the way out of the city back to the Rusted Star to get it.
It was the first tavern the Starbreakers had ever stayed in when they’d come to Sasel as a company, when they were still five idiot teenagers. Since that first night, the tavern had played host to some of their best bar fights, one-night stands, and drunken song renditions.
There were a lot of memories in this place.
Given their reputation these days, it was also probably the only place they wouldn’t be kicked out of if they got recognized. Which they were, almost immediately after Brass and Phoenix called for another round.
A short boy dressed in grubby wools and carrying a serving tray, who could have passed for twelve, spotted them, did a double take when recognition dawned on his face, and immediately abandoned his attempts at flirting with two women at another table to come over.
“Avelina’s ass, if it isn’t the Starbreakers!” the boy swore. Phoenix reflexively winced at their name being shouted in a crowded place since it was still a crime for them to be in the city. He needn’t have worried. The sounds of gambling, arguments, and off-key singing drowned out any chance of recognition from the surrounding tables. “Wow, you guys got old. I thought you all were dead or something.”
“Or something,” Angel said.
“Also, technically, we’re not here, and you definitely never saw us,” Brass added.
The child gave a conspiratorial nod as Brass slid him a few extra glint. “Not hide nor hair of ya. Shame too. You were always my favorites.”
His gaze settled on Elizabeth. “Hang on. You look different. What happened to the ice and the knives?”
“Snow’s not here,” Phoenix said.
“Oh. Well then. Are you gonna introduce me to your new friend?” the boy asked, winking at Elizabeth.
“Simon, this is Elizabeth. My wife.” Phoenix took extra care to stress that part. “Elizabeth, this is Simon.”
Simon’s face fell immediately. “Fucking save some for the rest of us, jackass. Most of us are lucky to pull one beautiful woman in our life. How the hells you . . .”
Simon trailed off as he reexamined Elizabeth and recognition slowly dawned. The green armor with a knight’s emblem on the shoulder. The quiver of arrows. Eyes you could see a hurricane in if you dared to look. “Sweet blistering saints’ asses, the Winged Lady’s in my bar.”
He paused, a new wave of realization following the first. “You married the dragon-pegging Winged Lady?”
“Got quite a vocabulary for a kid your age,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, hang on now. Don’t go getting cute with me Little Miss Feathers,” Simon said, jabbing a finger at her. “Just because you’re a town hero doesn’t mean I won’t deck ya.”
Elizabeth suppressed a laugh. “Sorry?”
“Simon was cursed by a witch to age in reverse,” Church supplied. “It was eleven years ago? It actually got worse when we went after her too.”
“That’s a funny way of saying they pissed her off, and I started shrinking by the hour. If they’d been any slower about killing that old bag and breaking the curse, I’d have had to go back to sucking on my mom’s tits,” Simon said.
“Oh. Wow,” Elizabeth said, immediately banishing every mental image that story created. “So how old are you, actually?”
“Old enough to be some of these young people’s father,” Simon spat. “Most men my age are buying things they don’t need or sleeping with somebody half their age to make themselves feel young. Me, I’d kill to have hair anywhere besides my head.”
“Look on the bright side,” Brass offered. “Once you get through second puberty, you’re gonna be back to that handsome devil you always said you were when you were younger.”
“There is that.” Simon chuckled, rubbing his bare chin. “Still can’t believe you’re actually here. Knew all that bullshit the crown said about you wasn’t true.”
An uncomfortable silence fell on the group as Brass and Elizabeth both flashed awkward smiles.
A restrained, professional voice saved them from having to disappoint Simon.
“Excuse me. Could we get two more chairs for this table?”
Simon cast a confused eye at two new arrivals who approached the table, which changed to suspicion when he saw the surprised looks on everyone’s faces.
Lupolt pulled back his hood to reveal his face, which was full of barely disguised contempt for the bar’s unruly atmosphere. Behind him, smiling from beneath her own hood, Ink looked right at home.
“You know these two?” Simon asked, offering to have them kicked out with a raised eyebrow.
“We do,” Elizabeth said. “They’re . . .”
Brass cut in as she searched for an appropriate word.
“Also not here,” he said.
Simon looked from the table to the new arrivals and cocked his head. “You know you fuckers can meet somewhere other than taverns, right? Especially if you want to be discreet.”
Brass tossed another stack of glint on the table.
Simon shook his head but took the money and sauntered off, muttering under his breath, “Glintchasers.”
“I’m glad you’re all still here,” Lupolt said once the boy was out of earshot.
“Does your father know where you are, young man?” Brass mocked.
“His Majesty’s time is more than occupied for the day, and I have no shortage of duties to explain my absence if and when it’s noticed,” Lupolt said, pulling up a seat. “Try not to make a scene here as well. We have a lot to discuss, and moving this conversation again is going to waste time we don’t have.”
Five pairs of eyes exchanged glances. Elizabeth spoke first.
“Lupolt, this is—”
“Defiance. Insubordination. Possibly treason, if you wanted to be liberal with your interpretation of the word,” Lupolt finished for her.
Next to him, Ink’s smirk only grew. “I tried to tell him. But he’s like a dog with a bone.”
“I know exactly how serious a crime I’m committing even coming here to talk to all of you, let alone conspiring to bring you into this,” Lupolt said. “I also know my king is waging a war against the worst thieves, murderers, monsters, and warlords the kingdom has ever faced, and he cannot win it with the forces he has, especially not when he is due in Parthica in only a few weeks.”
“The fuck is he doing leaving the country in the middle of a crisis?” Angel asked.
“The first ever international summit of Asher is occurring in two weeks in the Parthican capital of Nikos,” Lupolt stated flatly. “It’s the first move toward multinational, global cooperation in modern history, years in the making. Leaders and representatives of Iandra, Gypten, and Parthica are all confirmed for attendance. Cooperation on that scale could completely revitalize this kingdom and help us truly begin rebuilding what we’ve lost in these last years. Patrols for the roads. Protection for the fringe settlements. Advancement in arcane studies. The escapees could kill thousands. But the summit could save hundreds of thousands. Roland has to go.”
“That’s a pretty good reason,” Church said.
“And it is all the more reason for the escapees to be dealt with swiftly,” Lupolt said. “If the rest of the world learned of our crisis and that we couldn’t respond to it—”
“You’d be really embarrassed at the next dinner party,” Angel surmised.
“Essentially, yes. Which is not to discount the damage the escapees themselves will do if left unchecked,” Lupolt said. He splayed his hands out across the table. “I will say it as much as I have to: We need you. For the sake of the world, the kingdom, the people. For Roland’s sake and mine.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”
Contemplative silence fell on the table as the five original occupants exchanged looks. Worried, wordless conversation passed between husband and wife. Eager anticipation on Brass’s face met admonishment and trepidation from Church’s. Angel’s typical frown deepened, threatening to become a full scowl.
Brass answered first.
“A job offer from the crown to chase down the worst of the worst? That is top-tier money and exposure. Couldn’t ask for a better comeback.”
