The Howling Delve

Johnson Jaleigh

"Bad luck, that's how, but we'll fix it. . . maybe." He wasn't any sort of healer, after all. She could die on the way to the camp. But what in the Hells else was he going to do for fun?

Talal tossed away the rock so he could get an arm under her legs. He hauled her up, grunting as blood soaked into his breeches. "If I drop you, Lady, I'm taking it as a sign from the gods this was a bad idea."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Keczulla, Amn

2 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Kall passed through a wide stone archway crowned by a sapphire keystone. The gem inset on the opposite side of the arch, a lighter agate, was not nearly as impressive or flawless, but then again, the difference between districts in Keczulla often hinged upon the worth of a gemstone.

The Keczull clan first gave the city life when it struck iron and gold along the Ridge arm of the Cloud Peaks to the north. Unfortunately for all, the mines didn't last, and a little over a century and a half later, the city was abandoned. It took Pulth Tanislove and his gem mines to bring Keczulla back in 1355 DR. The city had come twice from ruin to prosper in metals and gems, so naturally every aspect of its growth had followed suit, from the four districts: Emerald, Sapphire, Jade, and Agate, to their corresponding wards. The most prosperous families made their homes and businesses in the Mithral and Platinum Wards, and the hierarchy descended from there. Harbor Moon Ward was last in line and made no attempt to put a false sheen on itself. Kall appreciated that, and he suspected Rays Bladesmile did as well.

Traffic flowed around Kall, merchants bearing carts or wagons of goods packed wheel to wheel on the narrow streets. The ones loaded down with sacks dealt in grain or textiles. Those stacked with chests and lockboxes, their drivers' furtive gazes darting all around—they were jewelers, like Kall. They carried identical bulging rings of tiny keys—one for every box—like the gleaming teeth of a hundred exotic creatures. The jostle of their carts on the pitted streets evoked a discordant jangle that echoed throughout the ward.

The Thirsty Gnome sat just on the other side of the archway. Kall waited in the shade of the building, his eyes straying to a particular set of towers nestled in the center of the Gold Ward. He'd been to his father's house once, just after he arrived in the city, but seeing the structure from a distance like this was equally unnerving.

His father had had the house in Keczulla built identical to the one in Esmeltaran. The gods alone knew why. It certainly wasn't in keeping with the fashions of Amn, which Amnians themselves freely admitted tended to change like light off a gem facet.

"S'only piss an' ale if you try and sell it for three coppers!" shouted a voice from inside the tavern. Kall pushed away from the arch. Lord Rays was right on schedule.

The door to the tavern burst open, and Rays Bladesmile stormed out, the aforementioned ale streaming from his chin.

His eyes barely cleared the depths of their sockets, Kall noted, in a face that more resembled a skull, emaciated and paste white from too much time spent indoors licking the bottom of a tankard. Bladesmile stared angrily around the street as if searching for a fight. When none materialized, he tottered toward an alley, pulling at his breeches' strings as he went.

Kall followed at a discreet distance. He didn't want the inebriated Bladesmile's wrath turned on him.

The roofs of the adjacent buildings overhung the alley in a crooked arch that swallowed light. Aromas of piss and garbage filled the air. Kall stopped at the alley's mouth, waiting in amused silence as Lord Rays added his own offering to the bouquet.

"You wanting to hold it for me, lad?" Rays muttered without looking up.

"Ah, no, thank you," said Kall.

"Hmph. Then what does Lord Morel want here, at the height of a business day? Yes, I know you," he said, at Kall's surprised look. "You can expect all the Bladesmiles to mark your face."

"Actually, I was looking for Rays Bladesmile."

Rays retied his breeches, adjusted himself, and spread his hands in a ready swagger. "Well, you've found him, lad, in all his glory. What can I do for the last scion of Morel house?"

"Just Kall, I think, for meetings in back alleys," Kall said with a laugh. "I sought you out to discuss the debt my father owes the Bladesmiles."

"If that's so, you should have known you'd need to speak to Lord Rhor. The debt was substantial enough that accounting for it and any interest accrued—trust that there'll be plenty to spread around—will fall to him and those immediately under his eye."

"Yes, but I'm most interested in the sums already transferred to your family, the debt repaid in the form of mercenaries," Kall said. "I understand you are still considered the master armsman for the Bladesmile family."

"Gods, you want to talk true business." Rays gave a mock shudder. "Good thing I've already begun drinking. Yes, I'm still head of Rhor's companies, for as long as he deigns to put up with me." He nodded at the inn. "Join me in a bottle, and I might even tell you how much I despise the arrogant bastard."

"Another time, I'd like to hear it." Kall smiled. "Today I'm expected to return to Morel house. I'm hosting a gathering tomorrow evening for some old friends of my father's. Hopefully, by night's end, they will be my friends."

"By that, you mean you hope they won't foreclose on you in the manner of Shilmistan wolves. They're all coming for you, one way or another, and not just the Bladesmiles. Plenty of other families'll turn up claiming 'old' or 'half-forgotten' debts that are neither. They wouldn't mind taking those markers out of a former adventurer turned man of business."

"Then it's fortunate I'm more the adventurer and less the businessman," Kall said. His smile had steel in it.