58

  Rufi groaned and spat the now spent lump of the parcel out of his mouth. He instantly regretted it as pain shot through the drug-addled fog of his mind. His jaw had been so swollen he hadn’t eaten properly for what felt like days. His body, now recovering, still ached from his battle with the Troll. Dozens and dozens of stitches laced through his body. His neck was so stiff he could barely look left and right. Even his teeth hurt. It was only a regular diet of strong spirits and a medley of drugs that kept him sane as he recuperated. To make matters worse, he had effectively been put under house arrest by his uncle and was rarely left alone by his own kith. They had begun to mistrust him due to his tendency to disappear and return, beaten bloody, from his solo adventures. At least one of them was always posted near him under the guise of looking after him, but he knew they were keeping an eye on him, potentially at the behest of Uncle Sam. Rufi was snared in a web of his own deceit.

  Fortunately, he hadn't been physically able to go anywhere anyway. He had spent days rotting away in the back of the pool hall, his hunger and pain making him bad tempered and irritable. Reports from the street kept coming back to him, and it was never good. Tensions between Gnomes and Goblins had been flaring up across the city. Despite Yano accepting that Rufi hadn't committed the Golden Bowl Massacre, street level Villains and the Triad weren't so easily assuaged of his guilt. Rumours flew through the city on verminous wings, carrying all sorts of insane theories with them. Some said that this was a power move by the Goblins to take over the Gnomish territories. Others said that Rufi had gone into business for himself and murdered all of those in the Golden Bowl over some petty debt between him and Tiko. Rufi had even heard a rumour that Tiko slept with a woman of Rufi’s and as revenge, he had butchered and eaten Tiko. Whichever one of the stories you believed, it had made Goblins in general and Rufi’s kith specifically untrustworthy in the seedy underbelly of Valderia. With four dominant gangs with such a strict code of rules, it meant those independents working in that underbelly had to operate on tiptoes, careful never to tread on someone important’s feet. If they believed that doing business with the Goblins meant they may upset the Gnomes, it just wasn't worth the hassle. Therefore, those North of the houses, regardless of loyalties, would no longer do business with the Goblins and the smaller Triads made it known that anybody who did would mark themselves out as no longer a friend of the Triad, which was tantamount to a death sentence in certain areas of Valderia. That meant Rufi was costing people gold, and that meant that other Goblins were now starting to turn their ire towards him and his. He knew full well that it was only the weight of his uncle's name stopping them from taking that anger out in blood. Even so, he was markedly unpopular on the streets of Valderia, so perhaps it was better for him that he was currently under house arrest while his uncle tried to clean up the mess that he had made.

  These thoughts of self-reproach, frustration, anger, and pain were all Rufi had, and they spun round and round in his drug-addled brain. The worst thing was he couldn’t even remember what he had done with the gold from the burn deal that started all this. Had he wasted it? Did he spend it on lavish meals? Did he buy himself a new suit? Maybe he paid his tribute to his uncle in full? He couldn't remember. The gold was gone, and here he was still cleaning up this pile of shit it caused. And Tiko had gone and got himself murdered, so the whole pile had landed squarely on Rufi. Only then did Rufi remember there was still the mystery to solve of who had killed Tiko. Whoever it was, they were the same people that set that Troll on Rufi, and if he had to bet, they were the same people selling the Bad Batch. He'd been played this whole time. And now that Tiko was dead, he had to think that the Gnome had also been played. Had Tiko figured it out? Had he unearthed who had been pulling their strings, and that was why he had to go? Is that why they also decided to kill Rufi, just in case?

  Rufi groaned, his body curling over as he mashed the heel of his hands into his eyes, rubbing them furiously. He had blundered from one mistake to another. Every time he tried to fix things, he seemed to make them worse somehow. Now half the city distrusted him, and half the city hated him, and he was still no closer to finding out whose strings he was dancing on. Who had played puppetmaster? Who brought in the burn? Who murdered Tiko? Who set Rufi up to take the fall?

  “Who is fucking with me!” Rufi growled, slamming the heel of his hand on the table in front of him.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Shoya?” A voice called through the door.

  Rufi took a deep breath and tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. After all, it wasn't Pug's fault that he had been stuck on babysitting duty. As the most junior member of the circle, Pug followed orders and did as he was told.

  “Yeah, what's up, Pug?” Rufi said warily.

  “Brought some boar’s head soup,” Pug said from the other side of the door. “And some smokes!”

  “Come.”

  Pug opened the door and came in laden with a tray. A hot, steaming bowl of something brown and meaty sat on the tray next to a packet of smokes and another bottle of rum.

  “Here Shoya, get this in you, and you’ll feel fresh and fit again,” he said, busying himself clearing away the old plates and emptying the ashtray.

  Rufi looked at the bowl, and his stomach growled. He felt acid rising up in the back of his throat. He was hungry, but the last thing he wanted to do was eat, so instead he cracked open the bottle and poured himself a shot. He downed that, growled, snorted, and poured another one and downed that.

  “Chuch said you should eat before you start drinking again," Pug said, this time slightly reproachful yet embarrassed.

  “And since when did Chuch become a fucking doctor?” Rufi growled.

  Pug gave him half a shrug as if to say, ‘what do I know.’

  Rufi poured another shot and slid it to Pug, motioning for him to sit down. Pug did as he was bid. He sat and downed the shot, coughing and blinking wetly as the rum burnt his throat.

  Rufi tore a thick slab of bread and chucked it at Pug, pushing the bowl into the middle of the table so they could both eat. Rufi had never seen a day, hour, or minute where Pug wasn't hungry, but the young Goblin sat respectfully waiting for Rufi to eat first. Rufi tore a smaller chunk from his half of the bread, dipped it into the rich gravy and carefully placed it into his swollen mouth, chewing gingerly. Pug watched him and then dove at the bowl with a gusto, happily munching away, careful to not eat any of the meat, however, as tradition dictated that was Rufi's. They ate silently, Rufi slowly masticating each bit of bread, his jaw grinding and clicking with every chew.

  “So what’s happening out there?” Rufi asked Pug.

  “I dunno… the usual,” Pug said slowly in the way that he always did when he was lying.

  “Lemme guess, Doctor Chuch told you that I'm not supposed to hear about anything that's going on in the streets?”

  “Actually Mikkel said not to tell you nothing. He said it would only annoy you,” Pug said earnestly.

  “Come on Pug, I’m a big boy.” Rufi wasn't about to pull rank on Pug, but Pug knew better than to deny him more than once.

  Pug wiped his mouth and shrugged, looking down into the bowl.

  “It's not good Shoya," he said. “Business is hurting right now. No one wants to do any deals with us in case it upsets the Gnomes. Add to that, the cobbles are starting to light up. Couple street crews have had a few dust ups and some blood's dropped between friends of ours and friends of theirs. No one important has been touched so far. Although it’s only a matter of time before someone's blood boils and we end up in a full-scale street war with the Triad, at least that's what Mikkel says. Everyone thinks we killed that Gnome Tiko, well actually they think we killed all of ‘em. I’ve even heard some people think we ate him.”

  “Yeah, I've heard about that one,” Rufi snorted.

  “It’ll calm down, you know what it's like out there. People are just getting their blood up, but it’ll all settle down before it gets too serious.”

  “Does Mikkel say that as well?”

  “Naa Chuch does. Actually, he reckons everyone's just beating their chests, but they ain’t got the balls to do something about it. As for the street gangs, who really cares about them, right?”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Chuch,” Rufi said, sitting back, his stomach turning sour again.

  He pulled a smoke from the fresh packet, lit it, and blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air.

  “This ain't good Pug, you know that, right?”

  Pug nodded and frowned into the bowl of soup.

  “In this city, reputation is all you've got. As soon as people stop doing business with you, then they stop paying what they owe. Then you better be ready to spill blood or you’ll lose your tusks. I can’t let that happen, not with all the shit we done to build our names, we can't just let ‘em bury it in the mud.”

  “There's not much we can do right now Shoya,” Pug said, shrugging his round shoulders. “I mean, we got no way of proving that you didn't kill those Gnomes and the rumours are already everywhere. Not like you can just make the whole city stop talking.”

  “No.”

  “But it's just a rumour, right? No one really listens to those things too much,” Pug said hopefully.

  “Rumours have brought down empires before kid,” Rufi said, blowing a cloud of smoke. “What really gets me, is that someone's pulled my strings here. Someone’s played me for a fucking fool and I got no clue who it is or even why.”

  Pug looked back down at the bowl and didn't say anything. One of Pug's better qualities is that when he didn't know what to say, he stayed quiet.

  “Someone's done this to us, Pug. Someone tried to kill me... twice. Some cunt’s thrown our reputation and name in the dirt, and the worst thing is I think we’re just collateral damage. We just got caught up in some bullshit, and now we're the ones left holding all the mess while whoever it is just skips away laughing at me.”

  Rufi's anger began to build again. Flashes of his life and death struggle with the Troll came back to him. Someone had tried to kill him and all he could do was sit in on his arse and stew about it.

  “Ain’t no good thinking about it too much, Shoya. Here, I’ll wrap you a fresh packet, and you can put your feet up,” Pug said, pushing the bowl away and cleaning his fingertips. “Couple wedges of Madraa will do you, something to take the edge off right, Ruf?”

  “Yeah, that's about all I'm good for right now, sitting here getting spun off my nut.” Rufi clenched his jaw and then regretted it as pain kicked him in the teeth, making him more angry. He had been outsmarted the whole way, and the feeling burnt him. And now he was just going to sit here and take it? Rufi looked at Pug's hopeful little face, and he'd finally had enough.

  “Pug, get my coat and tool me up.”

  Pug's eyes went wide.

  “Oh wait Shoya, you're not supposed to…”

  “Pug, I go wherever I want, and your job is to stay with me, right?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Then I'm leaving, you coming?”

  “But you're not supposed to leave.”

  “But I am.”

  Pug looked at him wordlessly.

  “And you need tools?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Rufi said emphatically, his eyes dark and angry.

  “Maybe I should call Chuch or Mikkel at least, they should go with you.”

  “No Pug, you're coming with me.”

  “Umm… okay,” Pug said nervously. “Where are we going?”

  “The Foundries.”

  “The Foundries?”

  “The Foundries,” Rufi repeated.

  “Right. Of course. I'll get your coat.”

  “And something sharp and heavy,” Rufi growled.

  Pug jumped up and hurried away looking lost. Rufi pulled himself to his feet, groaning as he did, feeling a little lightheaded as he managed to stand. He straightened his back, hating how it clicked and crunched. He had probably broken a few ribs and bruised half a dozen bones, maybe even torn a muscle, but he couldn't sit on the sofa anymore feeling sorry for himself while the creatures that had done this to him got away with it. He was Rufi Chaw’Drak and it was time to get some answers.

  *

  Their carriage rattled into the Foundries under thick grey skies the colour of ash. The constant drizzle had driven the smoke and ash from the air that pasted the entire area in thick, dark, charcoal sludge that dripped from the buildings. Rufi alighted gingerly from the carriage and pulled the collars of his long coat up around his face. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gripped the knuckle duster in one hand and a blade in the other. He threw a quick look over both shoulders and then began stomping through the marketplace. His presence was noticed immediately. A Goblin heavy appeared from his right and another to his left. At first they didn't recognise him and approached him with hostility. Rufi un-hunched his shoulders to reveal his face, and the two Goblins stopped dead in their tracks. After a hesitant second, they paused and bowed their heads.

  “Shoya, what are you doing here?” The one on the right asked.

  He was a completely balding, sickly looking Goblin with the yellow tusks and a physique that had turned more to fat than muscle a long time ago. Rufi eyed him up and down.

  “I'm here on business,” Rufi replied curtly.

  “Then let us escort you to where you are going Shoya,” the Goblin on the left said.

  Rufi turned his withering gaze on him.

  “I don’t need an escort, and if I did, you would have been told so. Come on, Pug.” Rufi nodded over his shoulder as Pug caught up to him.

  They continued marching through the marketplace, leaving the two Goblins behind. They watched Rufi go with sour looks on their faces. As he wound his way through the labyrinthine maze of the market, Rufi noted more and more eyes on him, but they did not approach him. Whether they kept their distance out of respect or anger, he wasn't sure, and he didn’t care. Rufi made his way to a familiar apothecary door, and this time he didn’t knock respectfully. He raised his foot and kicked in the door. The elderly Gnome matron behind the counter squawked in surprise. She threw her arms up to protect herself, her eyes opened alarmingly wide when she saw the figure of Rufi pouring through the door, taking up almost the entire space, the tips of his ears brushing the ceiling.

  “What do you want?” she cried out.

  “Where is he?” Rufi growled.

  “Who?”

  Rufi let loose a snarl of irritation and kicked open the counter door, his hand still buried in his pockets, and marched past the old Gnome as she flapped and screamed. He barged his way through the door that led down the stairs, and with every agonising step, his bones jolted and crunched, but he made his way down the steps without even so much as a flinch of pain as anger fueled him. He barged into the underground garden of the Warlock Gnome and made a beeline for the centre. He pushed his way through the jungle, not even noting the beauty of the place this time, snapping branches and stepping on pots and flowers as he went. Pug trailed nervously in his wake, two blades in either hand as he looked left and right for anything that might hurt his Shoya.

  “Where are you, Shabaaz?” Rufi roared into the jungle. “Come out before I put fire to this entire place!”

  Rufi heard a noise to his left, and there was a rustling of tall, ivy-like plants. He saw the tips of the Warlock’s furry ears disappear in the bushes.

  “He's making a run for it!” Rufi snapped at Pug.

  Pug sprinted into the bushes, wildly hacking away at them. It wasn't but ten feet before he tripped and went face first into a pile of spiked dandelions. He leapt to his feet, extricating himself from the gripping vines around him, and then charged headlong into a tall bed of what looked like sunflowers, but they were purple in colour rather than yellow. Pug was about as subtle as a cannonball. He hurtled headlong into them, snapping and breaking them as he charged wildly in the approximate direction of the fleeing Gnome. Rufi tried to cut the Gnome off, but his body ached so much he knew that he wouldn't be able to force his way through the jungle, and if he fell, he might not get back up. Instead, he made his way to the centre of the garden. As he reached the clearing where the Shabaaz's workstation was, he looked over the tips of the bristling plants and flowers and vines and bushes and saw there was a rustling off in the distance. There were two separate disturbances in the fauna. Rufi guessed the big one was Pug and the small one was the Shabaaz. Pug was gaining on the ancient Gnome Warlock and suddenly the two converged. Rufi heard a lot of snapping and tearing of vines and cursing back and forth as Pug wrestled with the old Warlock. After a few seconds, Pug appeared out of the jungle, dragging the Gnome behind him by the hood of his long brown cloak. Pug dropped him at Rufi’s feet, breathing heavily as he did. He had several nasty looking spots and red bumps coming up on his flesh where he'd obviously been stung by something in his chase.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Shabaaz wheezed, sweat pouring down his face as his scrawny chest billowed in and out.

  Rufi looked down at the Warlock, his face thunderous.

  “I think it's time for you to give me some straight answers,” Rufi growled at him.

  “I told you then, Rufi, that I did not want to be involved in this madness! Why have you dragged me back…”

  Before he could finish speaking, Rufi snatched him up in one hand and threw him bodily down onto his own workstation. The Warlock wheezed as the air was driven from his frail body. Rufi pinned him down with one hand on his chest and grabbed hold of a pair of garden shears from the rack. He held them up to the light and inspected them. The Shabaaz's eyes widened in fear as he looked at the light glinting from those cruel, curved blades.

  “I have no involvement in this,” the Warlock cried out. “Please, I have done nothing!”

  “You've lied,” Rufi said.

  “I have not!”

  “You haven't told me the whole truth, have you?” Rufi growled.

  The Gnome's mouth flapped open wordlessly as he gulped for breath, sheer terror making his breathing fast and shallow.

  “I've told you as much as I know!” he choked out.

  “You're full of shit!” Rufi snarled. “There's never been a time that a Gnome has freely told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But that's okay,” Rufi said to him, snapping open forceps and bringing them closer to the Gnome’s face. “I'm gonna start chopping bits of you off, and once I'm done turning you into a nub, only then will I believe everything you say.” Rufi's voice was so cold it made Pug shiver.

  The Warlock struggled and beat at Rufi’s hand as he fought desperately to free himself.

  “Grab his arm,” Rufi snapped at Pug.

  Pug jumped and grabbed the Shabaaz's arm pulling up his robe and exposing his scrawny little arm.

  “Hold out his hand,” Rufi commanded.

  Pug, with only the slightest hesitation, did as he was ordered.

  “No! Wait!” the Warlock screamed.

  Rufi brought the shears down to his fingers. He picked out the smallest one. The Gnome struggled. Rufi slid the shears to the very tip of the little finger, looked the Gnome in the eye and then cut. The shares pinged shut, taking the tip of the Shabaaz's little finger clean off. The Warlock screamed in pain, his eyes going wide as they rolled into the back of his head, his little body bucking against Rufi's immovable grip.

  “Tell me what is going on in your little Gnomish world, and every second you don't, I’ll take more of your digits.” Rufi breathed in his face.

  The Gnome howled and writhed, sweat pouring down his face and tears dripped from the sides of his eyes. He opened his mouth but whether it was to tell the truth, to scream or just to gulp air, Rufi didn't give him a chance. He snapped the shears shut again, taking half of the little digit this time. The Warlock screamed and kicked his little legs.

  “Someone tried to kill me! Someone set me up! They killed a friend of mine! And it's all related to that Bad Batch, and I'm guessing you know exactly who I'm talking about!” Rufi roared into his face. “Who is it! Who is fucking with me!”

  The Warlock continued to cry and whimper, snot running down his nose and his eyes rolled blindly around the room, but he did not speak anything intelligible.

  “I’m bored with this,” Rufi said to Pug offhandedly. “You reckon I could take his whole hand in one clean cut?” Rufi asked as if he was questioning whether he should bring an umbrella out today or not.

  Pug's eyes widened, and his face had become almost bloodless.

  No, wait! Wait!” Shabaaz howled. “I don't know who! I only know ru-rumours and whispers!”

  “I dunno if I would risk my right hand on rumours,” Rufi said to him dryly.

  “It's a war! It's a war!” the Warlock spluttered. “The rebels... the rebel Gnomes have gone to war with the Triad and the Emperor! Please! Please! I beg you!”

  Rufi looked at him for a long time and then slowly withdrew the shears from his wrist.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “The rebels have been becoming more aggressive at home. There is some sort of strategy. I don't know what it is. I don't know what is going on. But there are rumours! Rumours that they have infiltrated Valderia!” the Warlock said, his tone sickeningly earnest, desperate for Rufi to believe him. “And if they're in Valderia, it has to be because they're making a move against the Triad. They know how much gold they produce for the Emperor and his wars. Cutting them off means cutting off influence and power within this city.”

  “No one is taking Valderia from the Triads,” Rufi snorted. “We can't even take the North from them, you think someone else is coming in and taking over?”

  “They've done it before!” “In the city of Mahsh, the rebels took over the Triad there. No one even knew! They infested like a growth on the Triad, replacing the key figures with their own people and ran it from the shadows. Only they would be able to create this burn that has been killing people. Only they would brutalise and kill the way they have been. It's a calling card of theirs; they use brutality as a weapon to drive fear into people.”

  Rufi thought again, trying to figure out whether the Warlock was lying to him. But he knew someone in his line of business couldn't risk losing any more fingers, let alone a hand.

  “Does the Yano know about this?”

  “I know not! I'm not part of the Triad. But he must have his suspicions. No fool becomes the Yano. And after that massacre at the Golden Bowl, there are whispers all across the Gnommish community that the rebels are in the city. Many Gnomes that live here moved out of fear of the rebels and their barbarous tactics. Many of them are refugees, the last surviving members of villages and towns that were butchered and set fire to by the rebels. We know they're calling cards, and we know what they do, and so does the Yano.”

  Rufi nodded, trying to absorb this new information. He relented his pressure on the Warlock's chest and let him up gently.

  “You better get someone to have a look at that,” Rufi said coldly, nodding at the Gnome's bleeding hand. “You don't want it getting infected.” Rufi threw the shears onto the worktop and limped out of the jungle laboratory with Pug close behind him, the whimpers of the Warlock echoing as they left.

  “What now, Shoya?” Pug asked shakily.

  Rufi stopped at the top of the stairs and sighed.

  “Sorry about this,” he said.

  “What?” Pug said.

  “Come on.” Rufi hauled his broken up the last couple of stairs.

  The shop was empty, the door flapping open on its broken hinges. Rufi took a deep breath and walked back out into the rain. On either side of the door, lined up facing each other, weapons bared, were a group of Goblins and Triad Gnomes. When they saw Rufi, the Gnomes rounded on him, only for the Goblin to move in between Rufi and the Gnomes. They bayed and cursed at one another until Rufi held his hand up for silence.

  “This time you fuck up, Rufi!” One of the Triads spat at him in a thick Gnommish accent, pointing his rapier at Rufi.

  “You can’t come here and do this!” Another screamed.

  “Says who?” One of the Goblins barked. “We run the Foundries! Not you little fuckers!”

  “Let’s see about that!”

  The Gnomes and Goblins were about to charge when Rufi barked at the Goblins. They fell into begrudging silence. Rufi stepped between the Goblins and looked imperiously down at the lead Triad.

  “We got a problem, shorty?” Rufi asked him.

  “Big fucka problem,” the Gnome spat back at him, completely undaunted.

  “Good. Take me to your boss then.”

  “Shoya!” One of the Goblins said to him.

  Rufi held up his hand.

  “Don’t worry about it. Go on, go about your business, this ain’t no concern of yours.” Rufi said to him, not taking his eyes off the Gnome.

  “But…”

  “Go!”

  The Goblins slowly dispersed, muttering curses and spitting in the direction of the Triads.

  “You coming with us!” the lead Triad said, jabbing his rapier at Rufi. “The Yano gonna cut your dick off!”

  “He’ll have to buy me dinner first,” Rufi said as the Gnomes surrounded him and Pug. “My man stays here.”

  “Like hell I am,” Pug said, jutting his chin out, even though sweat beaded down his brow.

  Rufi grinned and nodded approvingly. The Gnomes led them roughly to a waiting carriage and slammed the doors behind them and Rufi distinctly heard a lock clicking into place.

  “Are we really going to see the Yano?” Pug whispered to him.

  “Yeah.”

  “He ain’t gonna be happy.”

  “Fuck him. The lying prick.”

  “Yeah…” Pug mumbled. “Fuck him…”