The muscular orcir smiled, his lips red around his protruding lower canines. A memory of why surged forth from the depths from whence Ashe had buried it. Blood upon the redhead’s shirt collar, freckled, green-skinned face flushed, smashed nose flaring. His hands, too, were stained red. There was no mistaking Red Tulio’s aura, even with her jumbly head messing about. It was a dangerous crimson. Memories of hanged members of Slag’s End, bodies desecrated. Blood all about The Colosseum.
“You bastard,” she hissed. “You did kill them!” Red Tulio shrugged matter-of-factly. But how? When? He hadn’t been covered in blood when she saw him the day’s turn prior, when she attacked him, and he had buffeted her Shard Form like she was a gnat. Maybe after she fled? He liked to bathe in the blood of his victims, she recalled. Godsdamn him. “Why?”
Elian’s face showed no emotion but this time he began to glow a shaded pine, a greedy green. Around his fat neck hung a black crystal pendant with a reddish rune engraved upon it. Ashe had seen that pendant before. She glanced toward Red Tulio and saw he wore the same one. As did Quick Fingers.
“They grew weak,” Elian said. “Fat and useless. Even Olaf. The war that is coming is not going to be kind to the Mistlands. It will not suffer the weak. Ness is gone, so are all his grunts. Bar Stock has been wiped clean. The time of Drenth’s gangs is at an end. Only those who side with the Fallen will survive. I tried to warn them but not many listened, even though they claimed allegiance to me.”
“I’m going to wipe that smile from your face!” She struggled against her bonds. That tremor of rage bubbled under the surface. The inked runes along her arm started to itch. Only a fingernail’s worth of mist cowered beside her, not enough to bring her aether to life. Her magic just out of reach.
“My, but you have fire,” Elian said. “It’s no wonder the Fallen wants you. But I’ve had eyes on you for a long time.”
‘Many know only Church sprat have tattoos like yours.’ Ashe wanted to scream. But she wanted blood more. His blood.
“I told you, girl, many know what your runes mean. Would hurt my investments if you were free to roam at your whim. Wasn’t hard to fathom what would finally break you down. Drink was too easy, too simple for you. All it took to corner you was a bit of tits and leg. Good thing that I had the foresight to keep you cowed. Add more quadrans to my stable once the Fallen gets you.”
“Wren was a scourge. Did you know that as well? Sent to spy on you for your beloved Solanine.”
“Was?”
“I killed her.”
Elian’s lips curled upward. “My, my, girl, aren’t you the perfect lover. Such a shame. Wren was useful, at least. More than my brother, that is. Wherever he might be hiding.”
“Bugger a centaur’s prick.” Elian didn’t know Evander had joined Solanine, what did that mean? Or that he was on Gargantua at the same time? Were the brothers going separate ways? Maybe she could use this information to her advantage.
“Shortsighted you are,” Elian said, ignoring her comment, for people like him, centaur sex wasn’t as frowned upon as it was up in Kanja where it was considered most taboo. Which meant she needed to get more personal. “To answer your query, yes, I knew that harlot was a spy for Solanine. Wasn’t hard to pick out that girl for a scourge the moment she first walked into my tavern showing off her goods to anyone willing to look. I’ve been at this game a long time, girl. Solanine chose the wrong gang leader to try and swindle. And the wench’ll pay for it.”
Time to take her chance. “Bet you didn’t know Evander’s in Solanine’s pink pocket then, eh?”
Elian’s normally flushed face went pallid, a glimmer of anger simmering below that scraggly beard of his in fiery maroon. “What my brother does is of his own devices. If he wants to sell his soul to that wench, then so be.”
“Maybe he just prefers Solanine’s privy over your asshole.” O now she’d done it, she realized right away her folly.
A meaty hand slapped the chair’s arm audibly loud. Elian surged forward as best his bulk could. He reached for her face, grabbing her cheeks between sausage-thick fingers. “Careful, girl. You may be key to my rise, but that doesn’t mean I have to play gentle with you before I take you to them.” He released her face, but his nails had dug deep as her face stung.
Ashe tested the ropes as she tried to get comfortable, tied tight they were. And yet, she let her tongue continue its assault, falling back into older insults. “You got me now. What’s next? A treatise on philosophy? Maybe a race around the track. Though with this busted knee, I fathom you’d win. Even with that bovine gut of yours. Wait, I know, how about a spelling contest?”
“I’d be more wary with that tongue of yours,” Elian chuckled, the previous anger fully subsided. She must have struck a nerve over Evander, which might come in handy again. “The Fallen may rip it out.”
“I left all my fucks to give with Wren right up until the point she tried to stab me. In the back, I might add. What a cu—”
“Be careful what you wish for, girl,” Elian said, cutting her off as he stood, the chair giving a sigh of relief. “Luckily for you, they want you alive. Otherwise, I’d have given you over to the dogs long ago.”
“And here I thought you cared for me,” she said with a false pout. “Shame you have to turn me over to Solanine. Here I was trying to flee from them…”
Quick Fingers put his knobby hand to his rodent-like ear, listening to something as if he had a radio. Then he leaned toward Elian, whispering something low enough that Ashe couldn’t hear. Elian nodded and then waved the shrewkin off. Back to Ashe. “Solanine isn’t going to lay those grimy hands on you, girl. In fact, that wench’s rule here in Drenth is at an end. No, I’ll take you straight to the Fallen myself. And when he’s got his hands on you, you’ll rue the day you were whelped.”
“Don’t worry, I already do.”
“Suppose being the daughter of the Gutter King’ll do that.”
“You knew?”
“Actually, just found that out,” Elian conceded. “A tad shocked with that knowledge, me. Knew you were special the moment you came into my operation, but never did know you were the daughter of Emre Benld. That was a twist I could’ve used had I known.”
“The only twist you care about are the ones made of dough and coated in cinnamon.”
Elian let out a girthy laugh, his jowls and belly jiggling. “You coulda been something in my rank. That tongue does amuse me so.”
“What, leaving this reunion so soon? I thought we’d reminisce about all the good things we’ve done over the last year. You know, like me making you rich. Now you’re kicking me to the curb. What am I, Evzen?”
Elian’s aura blazed crimson. “My bastard did it to himself. You remind me of him, sometimes. Especially the fact I’d like to slap that mouth of yours clear off your face.”
Evzen was Elian’s bastard, birthed by a street worker. The boy was maybe fourteen summers old when Ashe had joined Slag’s End but had left a few months later. Ashe had no idea why, but she knew Elian was quite angry about it still.
Elian said something to Red Tulio and waddled toward the door. “Do behave, girl, my reputation has high standing still within this city. I am to take over once the Fallen gives me my due. Perhaps even gift me Gargantua for bringing you on a platter.” Ashe mumbled under her breath. “What’s that?”
“I said, I heard Lu Har likes his pigs all greased up, so you might want to forgo your shower today. Not that you even know what a shower is.”
Elian shook his head. “You try too hard sometimes, girl. Not all of them hit like you want. That one needed work.”
“So,” she said defensively, would have crossed her arms if they weren’t tied. “You expect me to talk sweetly to the Fallen then?”
“No, girl, I expect you to die.”
“Could you at least allow me a drink? I seem to have lost my flask and, well, you know, I’m sort of tied up.”
Elian procured her small golden flask from one of his pockets. “You know, I’m going to keep this and add it to my collection. To remember you by.” He shoved the container back into his waistband.
