Up ahead in the darkness of the tunnel, the torch light of their guide illuminated an ancient-looking iron gate set into a thick stone wall that looked even older. Mitchell blinked to clear his eyes of what he hoped was just water that was dripping constantly from the rough stone ceiling and coughed as he caught a breath of the smoke coming from the torch carried by their guide.

  “This is it,” the young man named Jonan said, as he looked back at his charges.

  “How many passages like this are there into the city?” Allora asked as her violet eyes took in the sight before them.

  “Just this one,” Jonan replied with a grin.

  “Just the one?” Allora said, her disbelief obvious.

  “You don’t really expect him to tell you the other ones, do you?” Lethelin said, rolling her eyes.

  Mitchell also shook his head a bit and smiled. Allora, for all her talents and knowledge, seemed completely naive about how criminal activity was conducted.

  The knight looked from Lethelin to Jonan and back again. Rather than argue, she chose to keep her mouth shut.

  “Where will this take us?” Mitchell asked. The cart with their crate of deadly cargo that he had been pulling behind him for the last hour and a half was starting to make his shoulders ache. He could feel the knots forming already.

  “This lone passage,” he said with extra emphasis and a wink to Allora, “cuts under the outer wall near the Opal gate and into the Dregs.”

  “The Dregs?” Mitchell interrupted.

  “Old part of the city,” Jonan said.

  You’ll be coming out in an old warehouse that’s rarely used these days. The gang that used to control it ran into a bit of trouble a little while back and no one has stepped up to claim it just yet. Officially, at any rate.”

  “How much farther?” Mitchell asked.

  “Maybe another thirty minutes once we’re through the gate,” he told Mitchell as he produced a large key from inside his pocket and forced the old lock open. “We’d move faster but your cart will make it harder to navigate some of the twisting passages. Are you sure it’s necessary?”

  Mitchell nodded and set it down briefly to work his shoulders and then picked it back up to follow the others through the entrance.

  Lethelin had returned just before sundown and informed them that she’d made contact and had instructions on where to meet the man who would see them into the city. Compared to the work of convincing Vras to get into the crate, making contact had been the easy part.

  The shadow cat hadn’t gotten violent exactly, but the ordeal of calming him down had maybe been the first real time where he thought Vras might attack him. The creature had scared him plenty and his body seemed to have an instinctive response to hearing him growl a warning, but Mitchell never really felt like his companion would hurt him. Still, when Mitchell had told him he needed to get into the box and let them close the lid on him, he thought the animal was going to lunge for his throat.

  The shadow cat had immediately lowered itself to the ground, ears flat, fangs bared, and tentacles open. Allora had stepped back like she was spring loaded and it was only a quick command from Mitchell that stopped her from drawing her blade.

  “Vras, this is how we are going to get you into the two-leg city. I don’t want to leave you out here alone, I need you in there with me, but you can’t be seen.”

  “I am gratha!” he snarled. “I am only seen if I want to be seen!”

  “In the forest, yes. In the wilds,” Mitchell said in as calm a voice as he could. “But this is a city. There are two-legs beyond counting and any one of them would scream and raise the alarm if they saw you. If that happens, we might fail. There will be too many two-leg enemies and you won’t be able to protect me.”

  This gave the animal pause. Mitchell knew that Vras considered it his job to protect him but protecting him from what was still vague. Vras only ever said it was for a great hunt, but when asked if that was what they were doing now, the shadow cat seemed to feel it was not, that the great hunt was later.

  Mitchell went on to demonstrate that the lid would not be secured, that Vras could escape if he needed to, but that he should only do so if there were sounds of battle. They’d also taken the liberty of drilling several small holes into the bottom and a few around the top to ensure he had plenty of air.

  Finally, with an unceasing growl of anger and fear—although Mitchell would never let Vras know he’d heard that—the shadow cat went into the crate. He tested the lid immediately and saw that he could push it open with his head without any difficulty. This mollified him somewhat, but his hackles were still raised as the lid settled into place once more. Mitchell felt guilty but there really was no other way.

  Up ahead Mitchell watched as their guide, Jonan, followed signs apparently only he could see and understand. His pace was steady and confident. Mitchell found his quick smile and easy confidence a little slimy, if he was being honest. His hands were a little too smooth, his eyes a little too observant. He reminded Mitchell of some sort of smooth-talking salesman that was always working an angle, always hustling someone. Lethelin had said he was the man who could get them inside, though and that he was with the guild, so they had little choice but to follow.

  After several more minutes moving through dank passages, stepping over pools of who knows what, and choking on the stench of things Mitchell would rather not imagine, Jonan suddenly stopped at a black section of stone wall that was indistinguishable from all the other damp, algae-covered stone walls they’d passed over the last half hour or so. With a gloved hand he scraped away some of the slimy growth and located a small hole in the stone. He blew on it to clear away any vestiges plant life that might linger, and then Mitchell saw the glitter of a small gemstone being placed into the newly-cleared hole. With his ungloved hand, he touched the stone and immediately something inside the wall clicked. The wall slid into a recess and then opened to the right revealing a dark room on the other side.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “This is it,” he said, a little too enthusiastically.

  Allora peered in, her eyes just as good as Mitchell’s in the gloom and, not finding anything she disagreed with, stepped inside. Lethelin followed, and then Mitchell brought up the rear, dragging the cart over the lip, and then Jonan stepped inside behind them, popping out the stone as he did so. Once it was free, the wall began grinding closed and, in just a couple of seconds, had resealed itself. As Mitchell turned to examine the wall, he once again could find no sign that anything was out of place. There weren’t even scuff marks on the floor.

  The room they now found themselves in was dusty and a little bit rank. There were empty shelves on the wall, almost all either listing or missing pieces. A few odd bits of furniture were also scattered about with some broken glassware, rusted out tools, and a few barrels with missing staves. The dust of years was over everything. No one had been down here in quite some time. On the far side of the room were a set of steep rickety wooden stairs that led up about three or four meters to a door that Mitchell could just make out at the top.

  “That’s the warehouse up there,” Jonan said, noticing Mitchell’s focus while he set the half-burned torch into a rusted out sconce bolted into the wall. “The old gang that ran it used it for smuggling, mostly. Anything of value was cleaned out and now it’s empty. But there’s space aplenty for you all to rest up.”

  “Thank you, Jonan,” Lethelin said.

  “Least I could do for someone that was friends with my old uncle,” he told her with a slight bow. “And my other uncle is looking forward to meeting you.”

  “You knew his uncle?” Mitchell said, looking at her curiously.

  “In a manner of speaking,” she said in that tone she had of saying she wouldn’t say any more about it. Focusing her attention back on Jonan, she added, “I will contact you as soon as I can to arrange a meeting with him.”

  “About that,” Jonan said slowly. “I actually expect he’ll be along shortly. Until then, just sit tight. The building is being watched, so they’ll know if you leave. Uncle wouldn’t like that.”

  “Lethelin, what is this?” Allora said, her voice growing hard.

  Ignoring Allora, Lethelin turned to Jonan.

  “That wasn’t part of our deal. I said we would meet him when we could make arrangements.”

  Jonan gave her that too-quick smile, showing a lot of teeth.

  “Don’t feed me to the dragon, here, m’lady. I’m just the messenger,” he said, spreading his hands in supplication. “I relayed your wishes to my uncle but he had other ideas. He’s eager to see the gifts you brought him.”

  Allora’s sword was out in a flash and at the man’s throat. For all his oily speed, Mitchell thought even he looked startled by how fast she had moved.

  Jonan froze and his grin faltered. He swallowed and Mitchell saw the tip of Allora’s blade nick his Adam’s apple, causing the man to jerk at the sharp sensation. Mitchell knew that feeling. It wasn’t pleasant.

  “We have no intention of staying here to wait for your uncle, thief!” Allora hissed. “If you wish to see the sun again, you will let us leave unmolested.”

  “Ah…” Jonan said, his voice trembling but his body stone still. “My uncle thought that might be the case. The people watching the building expect me to come out alone. If I don’t…”

  He let the word hang there and Lethelin cursed at him.

  “You lying pile of jivi shit! Is this how the guild behaves in Lorivin? If word gets back to my uncle, he will not be pleased. You risk open conflict.”

  That put some steel in the man’s spine.

  “You’re in the city, aren’t you?” Jonan shot back. “I kept my word. Safe and unseen! But he’s got questions and people who don’t answer them to his liking have a way of disappearing. Answer his questions and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Mitchell walked up to the man. He placed a finger on Allora’s sword and, with a gentle push, she lowered it. Then Mitchell stepped in front of him and he practically loomed.

  Jonan wasn’t tall, maybe only 5’ 9” or so, and Mitchell had several inches on him. Not to mention being significantly more muscular. This close, even in the dark, Mitchell could see the beads of sweat dripping down from his dark, slicked back hair.

  “Who is your uncle?” Mitchell said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “Edrokii Sereg,” Jonan said.

  “Sereg?” Allora asked.

  “You know him?” Mitchell half turned to ask her.

  “No, but the name is Waivian. It means blade or knife.”

  “What is edrokii?” Mitchell asked, since it had the feel of a title.

  “That I am not sure,” Allora told him, her voice thoughtful. “It sounds like the old draconic word for slaver, ‘edirokin’.”

  “It’s what we call a gang boss who’s gotten enough power to lay claim to the title,” Lethelin offered. “Generally, they have claimed a portion of a district and run their operations from there. They can have anywhere from twenty to a hundred people working for them. Maybe more in Lorivin.”

  Mitchell turned back to the trembling Jonan.

  “Even if you kept your word, Jonan, you brought us here under false pretenses. I could kill you or have you killed in any number of ways. Convince me not to.”

  “You… You would be making a powerful enemy,” Jonan said in a rush. “Edrokii Sereg would come after you. I’m protected. I’m in the guild! Killing me without a declaration would put you at odds with every edrokii in the city!”

  Mitchell glanced at Lethelin.

  “Is this true?”

  The thief grimaced.

  “Yes. I’m in the guild and if we killed him that would break open a net full of razor fish all over our deck. That’s trouble we don’t want.”

  “That’s right!” Jonan said. “Trouble you don’t want!”

  Mitchell found he was tired of the man’s sniveling. They’d come too far and too much was at stake to tolerate being double-crossed this close to the goal. His hand shot forward and grabbed the shorter man by the collar of his purple shirt and shoved him against the wall, then lifted him up bodily until his feet were dangling several inches off the ground.

  “Stollar’s fucking taint!” Jonan squealed as his hands clutched Mitchell’s wrist and his legs kicked over open air.

  “Whatever happens with your uncle, Jonan, I want you to know that you’ve made an enemy today. You could have been honest with us, but you weren’t. If we cross paths again and I catch you lying a second time, being in the guild won’t save you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes!” Jonan said, his voice straining as he began to choke on the fabric of the shirt closing around his neck.

  “Good. Now go tell your uncle we’re waiting.”

  Mitchell released him, and he fell to the floor gasping. Once he’d caught his breath, he stood and, without another word, bolted for the stairs. He threw open the door at the top and they heard his footsteps echo across what sounded like a large room above, and then another door opened and closed.

  Mitchell sighed.

  “It would have been nice for one thing to go easy,” he said to the ladies.

  “It would have,” Allora agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” Lethelin said, her face chagrined. “The guild has a way of operating that keeps the peace between the different gangs. Mostly. If this were Varset it never would have went down this way. If I get a chance to get word back to the edrokii in my city, there will be consequences.”

  “Is that normally a bad thing?” Mitchell asked her as he put his arm around here. She slumped into him. “Like do they worry about it?”

  “It can be. There have been secret wars before between edrokii in different cities, and even between different nations. It’s almost always done in the shadows, with assassinations, arson, small skirmishes that don’t usually draw much attention. But it can get bloody and go on for years. Jonan and this Edrokii Sereg are taking a pretty big risk.”

  “Why would he do that?” Allora asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lethelin answered. “I didn’t have time to try and get a sense of what was going on in the city. We’re on a schedule, after all.”

  “We’ll just have to deal with him when he gets here,” Mitchell told them.

  “His name is curious,” Allora said.

  “Why?” Mitchell asked as he went over to let Vras out of the crate.

  “Waivian is not a common language. Few know it. I would not expect a thief or gang boss, or whatever he is, to know it.”

  Lethelin shrugged.

  “It’s pretty common for an Edrokii to pick some name they think makes them sound more sinister or imposing,” she said.

  Mitchell lifted the lid and Vras bounded out and began to scout the room. He sneezed several times at all the dust.

  “I guess we should head upstairs and see what plans we can make before our host arrives,” Mitchell said.

  The girls agreed and they made their way up to the main floor of the abandoned warehouse. To everyone’s surprise, the rickety steps held them.