“What do you think it is?” asked Urro, pointing towards the top of the district wall. There were tendrils of smoke rising from the Norzeen District. There was not an overly concerning number, but more than normal.
Renado looked over his shoulder at Virn and Asar, trailing him side-by-side. Virn saw the look and patted the sword at his hip. The injured warrior was continuing his recovery, but he would be ready for what lay beyond. Ren glanced back at Captain Urro. “I think there has been some fighting,” he said.
They passed under the tall, jagged archway through the enormous stone wall and entered a world of dwindling chaos. There had been fighting here recently, but it was over. As soon as they walked down the first street of Norzeen, Renado spotted townsfolk hurrying to the safety of their ajar home door. Past them, at the opening of a town square, he watched a man wearing a rough leather tunic picking through the pockets of a slain city watchman. Another man with a linen waistcoat called to the looter and raised a bottle of whiskey over his head. The first man pocketed a few coins, cheered, and followed his comrade.
The body was still warm, Renado noted, when they reached the corner of that city square. The watchman was wearing a spotty robe of chainmail, shattered in four places into bloody holes, and had a pool of blood above his collarbone.
“Ren, look,” Asar breathed, behind Ren. He was facing the other way, his eyes focused up on the stone wall through which they had entered.
A dozen dead guards hung from the wall, either by ropes or by stakes driven into the windswept stone surface. Streaks of red dripped down below several, while others might still have been alive, or had been killed without bloodshed. The grisly sight was not complete yet—a few other bandits were lifting another guard up on a tall wooden ladder.
“What should we do?” Captain Urro asked.
“Continue on,” Renado replied. He looked at Virn and the mighty warrior nodded to him. They crossed the ghostly town square. The meeting with Domeran was scheduled for today, nearly two weeks after Ren’s meeting with Jayza. He hoped the gang leader would be more pleasant to speak with, and, despite the gruesome scene surrounding Ren, he was impressed.
Domeran had taken the Norzeen District from the City Watch.
They arrived at a different crossroads, one where they had been guided by Domeran’s contacts. To Ren’s surprise, there were men waiting for them there. One stood in the middle of the square, sipping from a small pewter flask. Around him stood four others, each armed to the teeth with an array of metal knuckles, short swords, knives, and one crossbow.
As Ren’s group approached, the man corked his drink and stepped forward. “You’re Renado, right? I was wondering if you would still come and meet today.”
“We set it up, didn’t we?” Renado asked.
The man, who must have been Domeran, had sandy brown hair, brighter in tone than his tanned Raderan skin. He had a perfect smile, but a thin scar on his cheek, following the angle of his cheekbone, caused an uneven shape to his scruffy beard. “Yes, you did. But many people are avoiding this district. We’ve just taken it.”
Ren chuckled. He followed the wave of the crook’s hand to the crudely adorned city wall. This man was a no-nonsense fellow. Right to the point. Like Ren’s father… before he had started to fray in his later years. “Yes, we saw them on the way in.”
“And? You still want to meet?” Domeran asked. He smiled. “It certainly tells me something about you.”
Ren laughed again. He felt at ease, despite their circumstances. Perhaps it was confidence in Virn’s ability to protect him. “What’s in the flask?”
“Nothing good,” Domeran smirked. He uncorked it for another drink, but grimaced.
Ren held out his hand to Urro. The Captain looked at him pleadingly, but at a nodded order from his boss, he removed his canteen of rum from his belt. Ren palmed it, took a sip, and then tossed it through the air to the gangster. “Here. Try this,” he said.
Domeran eyed it cautiously. “Who are you folks?” he asked. He passed the drink to one of his guards. The man took a sip, even though Ren had already proved it not to be poison. The henchman nodded approvingly and passed it to Domeran, who followed suit. “This is good,” he said, and did not toss it back to Ren.
“We’re just another party that is interested in the city,” the brother of Lerran replied.
“Where are you from?” Domeran asked.
“All over.”
Domeran shrugged. “I don’t blame you for not sharing,” he said, taking another sip of the rum. “But games aside, I know you’re many miles from your home, Ren. Should I be concerned about another faction popping up?”
“No, no,” Ren said. “We’re here to help your group, and keep the mages out of the city.” Ren blinked—that phrase should almost have contradicted his oath with the Tether, but his words were spoken uninhibited. He glanced to the side and noticed Virn’s disapproving glance.
“ ‘Help us….’ ” Domeran trailed off. “Do you mean the Mage Kings, or are there more mages coming to Ith?”
“I don’t know; there might be,” Ren said. “There’s a void here in the city that three groups are trying to fill.”
“So, you want me to fulfill that?”
Renado nodded. “I would like to help you fulfill it,” he told the crime boss. He was already far more impressed with Domeran than he had been with Jayza.
Domeran considered it for a moment, but then passed the canteen of rum back. “I’m not interested in ruling over the cattle or implementing some new system. As long as there are no Kings in Ith, I can do any damn thing I want to do. Serves me just fine.” He spread his muscular arms to either side.
“Gods, Gravagan…” Ren muttered. The damned mages that had sent Ren here didn’t even care who took over, he realized. There was no master plan after the ordered downfall of the Mage Kings. There was just chaos, and Gravagan didn’t care. Ren turned on his heel and called to the side, “Then I hope you will at least let my people know before you attack another district?”
Domeran chuckled. “Advanced warning helps your group, certainly, but what do I get out of that deal?” he questioned. A group of half-drunk thugs came down the street to Ren’s right; they glimpsed their boss standing in the middle, and quickly stumbled out of sight.
“If we had time to prepare, we could provide assistance,” Ren said.
Domeran considered it, but then nodded. “It would be appreciated,” he decided. “Though we’ll be consolidating our hold on the Norzeen District for a while, I’m certain.”
Ren turned back to his fellow criminal. “Even if you need help elsewhere in the city, let me know.”
“I thought you were only interested if I was going to take control,” Domeran said, repeating Ren’s earlier words. The man ran a finger along the scar on his cheek, as though by instinct, and then scratched his beard.
Ren shrugged and held up the rum again. “I drank on it,” he said. They both chuckled. As their laughter faded, Ren explained himself: “No. I suppose I would be willing to work with you a little even if control of the city isn’t the endgame.”
“And your force is formidable, is it not?” Domeran asked, looked at Ren slyly.
Ren smiled and said nothing.
The gangster returned his look. “I’m certain you’ll hear from me soon,” he said. He uncorked his own bottle, held it close to his lips, grimaced, and put it away again.
“I really could use a longer drink,” Ren told Captain Urro as he tossed back the rum canteen. A scream rang out over the district. The fighting wasn’t all over, but the noise didn’t raise any alarm for Domeran.
“We’re drinking at Miko’s Pub tonight,” Domeran said, running a hand through his hair. His glistening forehead dimmed its gleam as he did so. “Best alehouse in the district—you’re welcome to attend, though without some of those weapons on account of our recent acquaintance.”
Renado looked at Virn inquisitively, while Asar grinned at the prospect. Virn begrudgingly gave him a nod. Ren glanced back at his new ally. It had been a long time since he went drinking with proper crooks. “I’ll just go fetch a few others,” he said, and Domeran gave him a permissive wave.
Ren’s men started their march back through the smoky district; the stone-sundered gateway was guarded now, but they were not stopped. As they climbed the slope back into Pranan’s Hill, Ren realized that he could now identify the fearful atmosphere lingering among the townspeople. Their tyrannical dictators had fallen, but their homes were still under threat of war. For some, it would be a very profitable war.