70

  The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon when Rufi stumbled back to the Pool Hall. How they had managed to get home, he wasn't entirely sure. After the fight on the boat, Chuch and Rufi were battered and thrown around by the raging torrent of the river until finally the ship banked and almost broke in half. The two Goblins had fled the boat and stumbled across the muddy riverbank, clinging to each other for support.

  Rufi was barely conscious. He had lost so much blood and was so exhausted that he could hardly think straight. Fortunately, as always, Chuch was the Goblin you wanted by your side in a crisis. He hauled Rufi up under his arm and dragged him up the muddy bank, pausing only long enough for them to look over their shoulders and see the raging inferno of the warehouse on the opposite side of the bank. Nothing would survive that blaze. There would be no bodies and no evidence of the Gnommish civil war that almost tore Valderia in two.

  Rufi had fallen in and out of consciousness not long after that. He awakened long enough to know that Chuch had somehow commandeered a horse and cart, and then they were back at the Pool Hall, stinking of blood and smoke. Rufi stumbled through the doorway, barely being held up by Chuch. He was so tired, Rufi could feel him quivering and shaking underneath his bulk.

  They stumbled through the door and Rufi looked up bleary eyed, with just enough senses to register that something was wrong. He felt Chuch suddenly grab him and push him behind him, shielding his friend with his body. Rufi stumbled against the wall and grabbed hold of the coat rack to keep himself standing. He blinked again and as his vision cleared he saw two dark suited Gnomes standing guard over three battered and bloody Goblins. His Goblins! Pauli was laid on a table with his eyes closed, Mikkel held a bloody rag to his cheek, and Pug simply sat staring into nothingness while blood dried on his scalp.

  “What the fuck is this?” Chuch snarled, a dagger appearing in his hand.

  “That is a question I would like an answer to,” a sonorous voice rumbled from a booth to the right of the room.

  Rufi, with tremendous effort, turned his head and saw Uncle Sam squeezed into a booth. He was dressed in a brown, rough spun cloth that was tossed across one shoulder and belted at the waist, and looked as out of place as he did anywhere that wasn’t his own Hall. Opposite him in the booth was the Yano. He was dressed as elegantly as always in a crisp black suit with an immaculate white shirt and deep purple coloured tie.

  “Come Nephew,” Sam’Sun said.

  Rufi swallowed and reached out a shaky hand to pat Chuch on the shoulder.

  “Check on the boys,” he growled in Chuch’s ear.

  Chuch, with great reluctance, sheathed his dagger and limped over to his friends, stopping briefly to stare down both Triad Gnomes, who returned his challenge with cool disinterested eyes. Rufi heaved himself from the wall. His vision swam but he forced one foot in front of the other. His body was a ruined husk at this point, only his own determination to save face in front of his Uncle stopped him from collapsing. He slipped into the booth, muscle memory stopping him from stumbling over the table, and unconsciously tried to make himself look presentable. Sam’Sun cast an appraising eye over Rufi, noting the dishevelled bloody state of him with cold detachment before going back to the bowl of olives he was picking over. The Yano watched Sam’Sun and then looked at Rufi. If he had any interest in the success of Rufi’s mission, his face didn’t give it away. He sipped the glass of water in front of him and then placed it down in the dead centre of the coaster.

  “You’ve had much adventures this night, Nephew.” It wasn’t quite a question nor a statement of fact. “Were you successful?”

  Rufi hesitated for a moment. How much did his Uncle know? Had the Yano told him everything? Rufi’s head hurt too badly for him to bother with subterfuge. He’d almost died too many times in the last 48 hours for him to care anymore. Lying and politicking is what got him into this mess in the first place.

  “They’re all dead,” Rufi said bluntly.

  “You’re sure?” the Yano replied quickly.

  “Their warehouse has been burned to the ground. It was a bloodbath. You’ll find the bodies of their leaders on their boat. We wrecked downriver maybe half a mile on the opposite bank.” Rufi grimaced as pain lanced through his body. His vision swam and the overwhelming urge to lay his head down on the table and never get up again gripped him.

  The Yano let out a deep breath through his nose and allowed himself the minutest smile of satisfaction which was little more than a twitch at the corners of his mouth.

  “Congratulations,” Sam’Sun said jovially, an uncharacteristic grin breaking out across his usually taciturn face. “Let us drink to your success!”

  Sam’Sun waved a hand and the old barman shuffled over with a tray of glasses and a bottle. Rufi blinked in surprise as his Uncle poured drinks and placed them in front of the Yano and Rufi. He filled his own glass and raised it. The Yano hadn’t touched his.

  “Let us toast to you turning my Nephew into your own personal catspaw.”

  “I wouldn’t say that Sam’Sun,” The Yano began.

  “No? He’s carried out your wet work has he not?” Sam’Sun’s voice became hard and immovable, the fake smile tumbling from his thick lips. “What was the agreed price for his work? Will he receive a tip for the speed of his service?” Sam’Sun’s voice echoed around the empty Pool Hall.

  “Uncle…” Rufi began.

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  “No!” Sam’Sun’s fist crashed into the table almost buckling it the glass smashing in his hands.

  The Yano blinked but did not react otherwise.

  “You have been too bold Yano,” Sam’Sun growled, his eyes smoldering.

  “Sam’Sun, your nephew came to me with this plan,” The Yano said, lifting a single finger to stay his guards who had been quickly advancing towards the booth. “I assure you…”

  “And this is how we operate now?” Sam’Sun said cutting him off. “The next time one of your Gnomes comes to me with a foolish scheme I acquiesce without hesitation? I scheme behind your back?”

  “Uncle…” Rufi tried again.

  “Quiet your foolish mouth before I silence you!” Sam’Sun grunted at Rufi in Kittei. “You have been playing games,” Sam’Sun said, turning back to the Yano. “You recognised that package. You knew from the start about that tainted product and where it came from. You have allowed your toxic Gnommish politics to interfere with my business in Valderia. You drag my Nephew into your mess! And him being the damn foolish wet behind the ears child he is, actually thought the only way for him to undo his own mistakes was by dancing on the end of your strings!”

  “Sam’Sun…”

  “You sent the blood of my eldest brother to fight and kill in your war!” Sam’Sun roared. With barely an effort, Sam’Sun tore the table from between them and sent it flying.

  Rufi had never seen his Uncle lose his temper before but it was a terrifying sight. He radiated power and destruction. The two Gnome bodyguards came forward again.

  “Move another step and I’ll hang your guts from the ceiling!” Sam’Sun barked at them and the Triads froze in place.

  “I’d be glad to decorate this place with ‘em,” Chuch said from behind the Gnomes, he had two long knives in his hands, pressed against the spines of the two guards.

  “I would think very carefully about this, Sam’Sun.” The Yano said, his voice steely.

  He hadn’t moved when the table was flipped, but Rufi noticed he had dropped one of his hands to his hip where he likely concealed a blade.

  “Advice you should have taken,” Sam’Sun said, his voice returning to its normal level. “It seems Valderia has forgotten just how sharp the tusks of Sam’Sun Chaw’Drak are.”

  “Wasn’t it once you who told me a creature that must remind others of his power has no power,” Yano replied coolly.

  “I also told you to keep my Goblins out of your games,” Sam’Sun replied. “And now it seems you need a reminder of the hierarchy, Yano.”

  Sam’Sun nodded his head at Chuch. Before any creature could move Chuch stabbed one of the Gnomes in the back. The long knife punched out of his stomach spraying blood and viscera across the Pool Hall. The Gnome wheezed a single dying breath. The second Gnome reacted quicker. He threw himself forward and was only sliced by Chuch’s knife. The Triad Gnome sprung to his feet, produced a dagger and then leapt at Sam’Sun, his blade raised and a furious scream on his lips.

  Rufi sprang from his seat, all pain forgotten as adrenaline burst through his system. He caught the Gnome around the throat, plucking him from mid air, his dagger only inches from Sam’Sun. He ragdoll the Gnome, slamming him against the broken table and then buried his tusk through the Gnome’s eye. Blood splattered across the wall and The Yano’s fine white shirt. The creature screamed. He clawed at Rufi. Then his body convulsed and he died while Rufi gazed into the eyes of the Yano. Wrenching his tusks free, Rufi spat gore from his mouth and tossed the body aside.

  The Yano stared in horror for a moment at the destroyed skull of his bodyguard. Then, with a very careful and considered movement, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small white cloth. He wiped splatters of blood from his face, looked at Sam’Sun, and blinked slowly.

  “Have I made myself understood?” Sam’Sun asked. He was sitting again, his face impassive, his voice steady.

  The Yano folded his white cloth and straightened his tie.

  “That was a mistake, Sam’Sun,” he said slowly.

  “No Yano, that was a consequence,” Sam’Sun replied. “The mistake was allowing your politics to bleed into Valderia. The mistake was not only to put my nephew at risk, but to make him party to your incompetence. But the Gnomes and the Goblins have long had peace in Valderia, and I expect that to remain so.”

  “You do?” The Yano said, his voice still remarkably steady for a creature dripping in blood.

  “Of course,” Sam’Sun replied. “I keep my friends’ secrets and I imagine you would not want the other Kings to find out that all of their lost revenue was due to Gnommish games. Besides, you’ve just survived a war… do you think you could live through another?”

  The Yano took a deep breath through his nose. Now it made sense.

  “Then our business here is concluded?” The Yano asked.

  “And long may our friendship continue,” Sam’Sun said without a hint of mirth.

  He rose and kicked the destroyed table out of the Yano’s way. The corpse of his bodyguard rolled across the floor leaving a trail of dark crimson blood behind him. The Yano stood and nodded to Sam’Sun, then to Rufi, before stepping out of the booth. He stopped for a moment to look down at the corpse.

  “I knew Lathwey for almost two decades,” he said dispassionately while looking at the body.

  “It is good for us to be reminded of consequences,” Sam’Sun replied. “Creatures in our position often forget ourselves.”

  The Yano straightened his back and walked out of the Pool Hall leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.

  When the door swung shut Rufi collapsed back on to the booth’s chair and dry heaved, spewing bile and blood onto the floor. Sam’Sun and wiped a hand across his own face. He rose imperiously and stepped out of the booth, stopping to pat his Nephew on the shoulder.

  “Uncle…” Rufi said. “I’m sorry… I thought…”

  Sam’Sun shushed him and patted his shoulder.

  “You have made many great blunders, Nephew.” Sam’Sun said. “And if you were not the last remaining son of my blood brother, your corpse would be decorating this floor as well. You allowed yourself to be played for a fool. The Yano manoeuvred you into killing and wasting the lives of our Kith to keep his own hands clean. It will be a long time before you sit in my circle.”

  Sam’Sun strode away leaving Rufi behind, bile and blood dripping down the side of his mouth. Uncle Sam stopped to pat Chuch on the shoulder.

  “Clean this mess up,” he said gently. “And get him to a doctor.”

  With that Sam’Sun walked out of the Pool Hall. There was silence for a few seconds. Then Pug wretched and vomited.

  “Fuck sake Pug!” Mikkel cried out.

  Rufi sighed and leaned his head back against the booth. He was alive, but he didn’t know how happy he was about that. He stared at the ruined face of the Triad, one eye completely caved in, the other staring in unliving horror.

  On the streets of Valderia, sometimes just waking up the next day was a victory.