Throne Hunters Book 3, Chapter 34

Lord Gorkin eyed Lady Sabatina and grinned. She was sitting very straight, almost cruelly so - surely it was unnatural to be so stiff? But her attention was fixed with obsessive focus on the stage below, on the operatic performance, the yelling that the lead star was insisting on calling singing.

Almost as if she didn’t want to risk meeting his gaze.

To acknowledge his leer.

But the intermezzo was coming up. Even someone as fanatically devoted to the opera as Lady Sabatina wouldn’t insist on staring at the curtains once they’d closed, would she?

Gorkin couldn’t wait to find out.

He reached out for a speared gherkin and sucked it off the toothpick, and then slowly, delightedly, crunched it with his mouth open, watching Lady Sabatina all the while.

Nothing.

Not even a tremor.

Oh, but she was self-disciplined.

What would it take to make her crack? Perhaps revealing how her father’s debts were so towering, so monstruous, that Lord Sabatina was willing to proffer his daughter as a sacrifice on Gorkin’s monstruous altar?

That might indeed cause an eyelid to twitch.

No. That would be too crude a reveal. He had to wait for the exact right moment to drop that revelation in her lap. Perhaps once he’d driven her to the point of flight, when even she felt no choice but to quit the private balcony, appearances be damned. And then, as she turned to the door at the rear, he’d let it slip how disappointed her father would be.

She’d freeze.

He’d eat a pickled gherkin, watching the stage, and continue: oh, but how her father would weep if Gorkin were to raise his interest rates. Not that he had any reason to do so. Not when he’d received nothing but the best treatment from tonight’s date.

Oh, how she’d falter, and return trembling to her seat.

Gorkin swallowed the gherkin chunks and grinned at her again, admiring how completely she pretended he wasn’t there. She should have been here with a dashing raider, perhaps, or a duke. Someone handsome and young. Not an old and creepy letch like himself.

Her very sense of the world and how it was supposed to operate, the rules that governed the life of a wealthy, beautiful, young heiress, were in revolt.

Not that she wasn’t safe.

Once all the games were played, every tremor drawn forth, every blush, every humiliating step taken, why, he’d send her home.

Her very rigidity would make her a terrible bedmate. Even if he could coax her to hold the lash, she’d never get beyond a faltering strike or two at his battle-scarred rump before she collapsed in tears.

Ah, well.

He’d enjoy this night as much as he could.

The door to their private balcony opened a crack, revealing Fosso’s broad, bovine face. The man’s expression was placid, but Gorkin knew him well enough to scent important news in the offing.

Gorkin gestured, and his bodyguard entered with demure courtesy, eyes cast low, and handed Gorkin a scroll.

No seal.

Interesting.

Gorkin unrolled it. The ink was partially smeared, so fresh was the writing. A letter from the Night Watchman, Jacek’s feared lieutenant. A commendable man, if given to theatrics. His insistence on masks and anonymity was absolutely hilarious.

Warehouses 2, 4, and 5 have been struck, all staff killed, premises set aflame. The spy in warehouse 2 was slain, the other two have reported back. We have identified the attackers. Will await you at your manse.

Curt and to the point. An admirable employee, the Night Watchman. He’d have to see about stealing him away from Jacek.

Gorkin rolled up the scroll and tapped it against his lips. Sabatina stared with utter fixation at the stage below, her jaw clenched.

Well, well, well.

“You will have to excuse me, my dear,” said Gorkin, leaning forward. “But I must attend to pressing matters. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I shall take my leave, though I do hope you avail yourself of my balcony for the rest of the night.”

The young woman blinked, quickly assimilated the news, then seemed to melt into sudden good humor. “That is terrible news, my lord. I shall stay but only at your insistence. The night will have lost all savor without you.”

“Is that so?” Gorkin felt his pettiest side rear its head. “Then you may call upon me later tonight if you find yourself missing me so much. You know my address?”

Sabatina’s eyes widened and she went still, like a deer at the sound of the hunter’s horn.

Gorkin patted her hand. “Think on it. This night could prove far more educational for you than you anticipated.” And he leered pointedly at her, then rose, unwilling to waste more time on the empty-headed girl.

Fosso preceded him out into the narrow hallway, took the missive from Gorkin, and then folded it carefully into his large mouth and swallowed it whole.

They quit the opera house without ceremony, Gorkin sweeping his dark cloak about his shoulders, and entered his waiting coach where it stood outside the main doors.

Only once they were within the intimate gloom did he look to his massive companion. “Three warehouses. Secret warehouses. Any more details?”

Fosso shook his head. “I only received word myself just now.”

“Hmm. Give me a moment to ponder.”

And Gorkin looked out the window as Flutic began rolling by, through his own ghostly reflection at the streets outside.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since the Red Fist contingent had disappeared from the old Sonora warehouse. The connection between that assault and this were clear; information about warehouses 2, 4, and 5 could be inferred from the information contained within the stolen papers. No coincidence that they’d not struck at any of the other eight.

Two weeks. That spoke of patience, of discipline, but only so much. There was a need for action, to continue their attack. It smacked of youth, of a fiery temper, of a desire to maintain pressure.

Which resonated with his supposition that this was personal. This meant something to someone. Not merely a mercantile power grab, but someone he’d wronged in the past.

That list was long, however.

Gorkin allowed his mind to wander, but he knew more information would soon be his. No need to truly delve into Preliminary Associations yet.

It was ringing Third Bell and the night was in its deepest dark when they rolled onto his grounds, the huge iron gate opening silently, the guard detail saluting. Up the graveled road to the fountain, and there the door was opened and Gorkin emerged, to stride uncaring through the misty rain and into his foyer.

Everyone bowed as he passed them.

Awaiting him in his parlor were Jacek and the Night Watchman. Jacek stood with his arms crossed before the fire, gazing into the leaping flames, while the Night Watchman, with his penchant for the theatrical, stood in the distant corners where the shadows were thickest.

“My lord,” said Jacek, bowing his head respectfully. “You received our missive?”

Dolt. Gorkin swallowed a half-dozen acidic replies, and instead settled for a nod. “I did. What more can you tell me?”

“I have interrogated both spies myself,” whispered the Night Watchman. “Warehouses 4 and 5 were struck simultaneously just before Second Bell. The flames were set just after, so the hour was coordinated. Warehouse 2 was attacked and destroyed perhaps ten minutes after Second Bell, so it would seem both teams converged on it thereafter.”

“Hmm,” said Gorkin. “Continue.”

“Warehouse 4 was attacked by a small group of hooded raiders. Our spy described the team being comprised of two female humans, a male human, and a male dwarf. They were powerful, overwhelming our guards easily.”

“Those were hardly our best,” said Jacek with false heartiness. “Let’s not leap to assumptions.”

The Night Watchman bowed his head a fraction. “As you say, Commander. But the spy reports that our guards were demolished without being able to strike back. I have notes as to the style of their attacks, but they were quite capable. Warehouse 5, however, was attacked by a single hooded male human with twin floating gold axes.”

“Twin floating gold axes,” said Fosso, rubbing at his chin.

“He was also able to easily defeat our guards, executing them without any difficulty.”

“You have more precise descriptions about these individuals?” asked Gorkin.

“I do. And have already identified two of them, despite the hoods. The man with the gold hatchets caused quite a stir a month ago when he was singled out in the Gazette for achieving almost 1000% increase in his scale count on the 4th Level. Harald Darrowdelve.”

“Darrowdelve,” murmured Gorkin, and looked over to Fosso, who nodded lugubriously.

“Harald Darrowdelve. Word is he joined Countess Sonora’s household. Heard it from a friend who keeps tabs on Lord Draken’s court. He was a wanted item for a few weeks there. Talk of the town. A fancy auction attended by Lady Hammerfell and other notables.”

“Countess Sonora,” said Gorkin with burgeoning glee. “You don’t say. How delightful. I didn’t think she had it in her. And the second?”

“A Vic Carmine, low-level thug and duelist from the Shambles. Half the whores know his name, it seems,” said the Night Watchman, his sneer audible through the mask. “Also an employee of Countess Sonora. He removed his hood to wipe his face in plain view of our agent. An amateur mistake.”

“My, my.” Gorkin tapped his chin and smiled. “I thought her declawed and defanged years ago, but it seems she’s only been biding her time. The others must belong to that pathetic little team of raiders that have been scavenging scales for her these past couple of years. Everyone be quiet. I must think.”

Gorkin closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

The fire crackled. Fosso breathed loudly, but the sound was comforting.

Two teams. Harald Darrowdelve. Darrowdelve. There had been a more impressive Darrowdelve before, hadn’t there?

Darius.

Oh, yes. That fiery comet of uncouth manners and sudden wealth. A Nightshard, hadn’t it been? Something about his wife. Then he’d disappeared, lost, everyone presumed, in the depths of the dungeon.

Darius. Harald. Now working for Countess Sonora. Why House Sonora? 1000% meant he could have picked any House. But his father had disdained politics. Had preferred to revel with lowlifes in his manor home. Like father, like son?

Something more, there. Something he was missing.

Darrowdelve. A force of nature, it seemed, capable of stirring Countess Sonora to action. Now there was a woman who could wield a whip. She’d flay the hide of his back in seconds.

Gorkin shivered pleasurably.

But Harald had caused Countess Sonora to act. He must have been the entirety of her acquisition, otherwise they’d have attacked all three warehouses simultaneously. A small group, then, talented, yes, but only moderately so; they were the best that little Anna could afford. Enough to be efficient, to burn down his warehouses, and yes, that did sting, that would make things awkward for a good while, but oh, this was the pretext he needed.

Yes.

“Very well,” said Gorkin. “This won’t be a problem for much longer.”

“My men are ready to provide written statements and swear to them, sir,” said Jacek.

“Why on earth would they do that?”

Jacek hesitated. “Sworn affidavits. For you to present in court?”

“Court?”

Jacek all but wheeled about to look for support from his lieutenant, but managed to catch himself in time. “I… ah…”

“Oh, no. This is a private manner. A personal manner. I been afforded by those in power with sufficient leeway to take care of my own affairs. There’s no need to bother the courts with this matter.”

“Then…” Jacek licked his dry lips. “You intend to attack the countess?”

“Attack? Please. What do you think I am, a rabble rouser? Oh, no. But I am going to pay the countess a visit and invite her, most courteously, to come visit me. I’m sure we can discuss this matter and come to an agreement that will please us both immensely.”

Jacek nodded slowly, clearly confounded.

“Yes.” Gorkin slapped the arms of his chair and stood. “It’s time we settled this unpleasantness like the nobility we’re meant to be.” He shook his head in mock dismay. “Honestly, what have we come to, when we go about murdering innocent guards and torching valuable imports just to indicate our displeasure?”

Jacek frowned and nodded in agreement.

“Await me here, gentlemen.” And he strode into the entrance hall, Fosso trailing after. Entered his library, and there turned to the shadow of a manservant who stood beside the door. “Send for Eklark.”

Fosso took the seat across from Gorkin with a sigh. “So here we are at last, just like you predicted.”

“She was always too spiteful and fiery a little bitch to accept the new reality.” Gorkin moved to the sideboard where he poured himself a whisky. “Pride, dear Fosso. It’s the undoing of us all. Her insistence on remaining a naked countess told us everything we needed to know. But what a poor move on her part. I’m almost moved to pity.”

“Pity?”

“To assemble a ragtag band of little heroes, and then move against my dark empire as if this were an operatic tale of righteous revenge.” Gorkin sat with a sigh. “Already she’s exposed her role in this sordid affair. But will she go to ground and disappear before I can strike back? No. She’s not alive to the real dangers of this world. She no doubt still places some stock in the strength of her manor walls, the sanctity of her own noble personage. Foolish, really, seeing as how her father disappeared.”

“Hmm,” rumbled Fosso in agreement.

“No, she played her hand too soon, and without enough strength. Granted, her little band is quite intrepid and talented. This Harald in particular is noteworthy, but he’s - what - still Copper-ranked?”

Fosso nodded.

“And there are a five of them. Even if dear little Anna has come into some scales, she’s not had time to hire a sufficiently impressive military force. It’s just her and her heroes. Which means…”

“She’s fucked.”

“That she is well and truly fucked. All of them, actually.” Gorkin smiled. “Can I confess that I’m quite excited? Do we have space in the cells?”

“For five? I can make space.”

“Good, good. But I want the cells well-furnished. I want them comfortable. Pampered. I want fresh clothing, quality viands and wine, I want them confused, I want them angry, I want them thinking they still have a chance. Hmm. Let’s begin with the double agent, a guard that they think is willing to be bribed. And let’s give one of them - I’ll let you pick - a hearty dose of noctilshade.”

Fosso let loose a bark of laughter. “A hearty dose? They’ll be shitting out their lungs.”

“Yes, precisely. Just the one, though. And see what else you can learn about the others. I want them to be delicately, lovingly pried apart at the seams. See if any of them are drug addicts, or alcoholics. If they have wives or sons, old grandmothers or whatever else. Once they’re below, I want to take our time with them, to really see what it takes to make them crack.”

Fosso nodded agreeably.

“But not Anna, however. No. She’ll be feeling terribly responsible. Her I will personally see to. I want to see to just what distances she’s willing to go, what personal moral absolutes she’s willing to compromise in exchange for my freeing her people, one at a time.”

“We’ll move them to the second location?”

“Of course. We’ll need to bring them back later to show her how all her sacrifices were in vain. But, oh, I think she’ll be my star plaything for quite some time.” Gorkin considered. “We’ll have to recompense Draken. I want to be overly generous so there’s absolutely no trouble.”

Fosso considered. “We could pledge military support to his city watch. He really likes his little soldiers.”

“Yes, that’ll do fine. And perhaps a few of our Artifacts to soften the sting. He’s too damned honorable for his own good.”

There was a knock at the door, and Eklark, the captain of the Ebon Wolves, stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an unnaturally dignified air and absolute lack of humor, he was everything Gorkin had wanted in a personal hireling. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes. We’re making a strike at Sonora Manor tonight. They have five talented Copper-ranked raiders in their employ, but nobody else, so we’ll be wanting to take them down by surprise and from a distance.”

“Very well. How large a detachment do you believe will be necessary?”

“Everybody. I want all hundred Ebon Wolves, and I’m going to pull every Red Fist from guard patrol as backup. You don’t have to worry about them, they’ll simply be the cordon around the property as you and your men move in.”

“These are Copper-ranked raiders?”

“Yes, but I want absolutely no risks. We’re also going to be taking Countess Sonora into custody, but she’s to be treated with kid gloves. When she tries to fight, simply disarm and bind her most apologetically. Have… yes. Have one of your men cop a feel when it seems nobody is looking, something crass and invasive. I want her to feel outraged, violated, but for it to feel accidental, as if it weren’t meant to happen. Everyone is to be brought to our basement.”

“Of course.” Eklark considered. “The Copper-ranked raiders?”

“Alive if possible. But if one or two die in the process, that’s fine. We’ve eyewitnesses as to their Abilities, and will do further research over the course of the day.”

Fosso raised a hand. “Should we give it more time? Let them lower their guard? We could place watchers on the manor, ensure that everyone is present when we strike.”

“Yes, yes, I know that’s the wise move, but honestly, they’re just Copper-ranked, and I want them now.” Gorkin heard his tone grow peevish and forced himself to stop. Closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then sighed. “All right. No. You’re right. They waited two weeks last time. They’ll probably wait as long again, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. Let’s give them a week. They’re amateurs. After five or six days of nothing, they’ll relax. But let’s place our spy in the kitchens on high alert. Tell her we want to know the second they betray any suspicious behavior. Eklark, I want your best watchers on the property. I want them to learn their habits. Present Fosso with what you think is the best method to round everyone up. If that means snatching them one by one on the same night, or attacking them all simultaneously while they’re at dinner, I’ll let you and Fosso decide.”

“Very well, sir. Are the eyewitnesses here?”

“Yes. Speak with the Night Watchmen from the Red Fists in the first parlor. They’ll take you to them. And be patient with Jacek, their leader. He’s an idiot, but we need his strength.”

“Very well. If I may be excused?”

Gorkin waved his hand.

Eklark bowed and departed.

“He’s very good, that Eklark,” said Fosso, reaching out for grapes from a central platter.

“It’s why I pay him so much. And I do pay him a lot.” Gorkin let go of his need for immediate gratification. “Twice what they’d pay him back in Marheim, but that’s why he’s here. That’s why we can keep him isolated, on task, and without any local entanglements.”

“He’s not the sort for entanglements,” said Fosso. “Very serious. Obsessive.”

“Everyone’s the type for some manner of entanglement. But yes. He’ll present you with an excellent plan. And this will allow me to prepare Draken just before it happens. Yes, this is for the better.”

“But,” said Fosso.

“But…” Gorkin wriggled in his seat. “I’m all hot and bothered now by the thought of Anna Sonora standing over me with a whip. By the angels, can you imagine the fire in her eyes?”

“Hmm,” said Fosso noncommittally. “Shall I send for some of your favorites?”

“Yes. Send for… let’s have Lady Grevine tonight. And send for that young strumpet, Sabatina. Insist that she attend, but tell her she’ll not have to take her clothes off. We can have Grevine teach her the ropes.”

“She won’t be any good at it.”

“Oh, you think I don’t know? But Grevine can handle the lashings. Sabatina’s mortification at my unabashed squealing will be the seasoning that helps me forget Sonora. For tonight at least.”

Fosso rose from his chair. “I’ll see to it now.”

“Thank you.” Gorkin stared off into the distance as he tapped his lips. Anna Sonora. Daring to rise against him. Hiring little heroes. Thinking she could reverse the tides of fortune.

Ah, what a world.

Finally it had given him what he most desired. Soon. Soon he’d finish the affair that had begun with her father.

Gorkin wriggled in his seat and tittered with delight.

Soon.